Make You Mine

by Macy Beckett

  Her breaths came in pants, her nerve endings glowing impossibly hotter while he ground a hard rotation against her, then another. Pleasure mounting, she whimpered and looked to him for release.

  As always, he knew what she needed. Lazily, he traced her mouth with an index finger and stared at her in wide-eyed wonder. In that infinite moment, something beautiful passed between them. The last bit of Allie’s heart melted in surrender, every piece of her now in Marc’s possession.

  He plunged deep, her lower back pounding the wall with each quick stroke. Marc never released her gaze, and as tension broke into ecstasy, her inner muscles shuddered in wild spasms that coaxed a cry from her lips. With another deep thrust, he held inside her, stiffening in his own climax. Connected as they were, both in flesh and soul, Allie didn’t think it was possible to love him any more than she did right that second.

  A few breaths later, Marc moved his hands to her face and kissed her, soft and slow—the kind of kiss that told her this was more than sex for him. Finally free, she twined her arms around his neck to extend the intimacy.

  “I want to be with you, Allie,” he said, still cradling her between his palms.

  “I want that, too.” She pictured their future together—a thousand exquisite moments just like this one—and she wanted it so badly it hurt. Any other outcome was unthinkable.

  “But I need your help.”

  She listened as Marc recounted the previous days’ events, down to reading his great-great-great-uncle’s letter. She nodded and feigned surprise in all the right places, but her heart sank when he asked for assistance breaking Memère’s hex. No matter how she justified the deception, she was still lying to the man she loved.

  “We’ll have to do some research,” she said, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve never tried anything this powerful.”

  He nuzzled the side of her neck. “Whatever it takes.”

  Those were the words she’d wanted to hear, but Allie had to force a smile. “Don’t worry, baby. We got this.”

  She had to stay strong—she loved Marc too deeply to fail him.

  • • •

  Twenty minutes later, a very satisfied Marc took Allie by the hand and led her downstairs to the bakery shop, where her sister was leaning over the sales counter, using one of those handheld icing bags to draw cartoon dicks onto oblong sugar cookies.

  Never a dull moment around these Mauvais women.

  “Secret hobby?” he asked. Knowing Devyn, she’d probably take a rolling pin to all those innocent schlongs when she was finished. “Or wishful baking?”

  She rolled her eyes while piping a pair of balls beneath a member that hooked a little too far to the left. “We got a last-minute order for a bachelorette party tonight.” She slid a glare at Allie. “And since the owner was taking an extended break, I got stuck with this glamorous job.”

  “Oops,” Allie said with an apologetic grin. “Thanks for being on top of it.”

  “While you were under it,” Devyn muttered. “But no problem. It’s my lifelong dream to sit around all day drawing dicks.”

  “Let me help.” Allie filled another bag with white icing and began frosting the tip of each cookie.

  Marc frowned at the implication. “That’s disturbing.”

  “This is nothing,” Allie said. “Once I had to bake a giant red velvet penis cake—with cream filling inside.”

  “Classy.” Who knew women had such dirty minds? “Why don’t you give me that voodoo book you were talking about so I can research spells while you two give those cookies their happy ending?”

  Allie jerked her head toward the far end of the counter. “Second cabinet from the end. But be careful; it’s older than mummy dust.”

  She was right. The volume of yellowed journal pages was hand-stitched together and bound in something that looked like aged burlap stretched over wood. A chill skittered down his spine when he rested it on the counter and opened the front cover.

  “What am I looking for?” he asked.

  Allie turned to her sister. “What do you think? Lave tet?”

  “Nah, that takes three days.” Devyn focused on her cookie art until she’d finished another wang, then turned a thoughtful gaze to the ceiling. “A smudge stick cleansing with extra gifts for Memère might be enough. We can always try the lave tet if that doesn’t work.”

  It sounded like they knew what they were talking about, so why had Allie asked for his help? “You sure you need me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Allie told him. “I’ve never tried this before. Look under cleansing rituals and make a list of supplies.”

  Marc turned each delicate page with caution while squinting at the inky calligraphy. He flipped past topics like ge-rouge, mange loa, bokors, and zombis. Halfway through the journal, he found an entry for spiritual cleansing, but Allie interrupted him before he had a chance to read it.

  “First you have to do something special,” she said. “Complete a task.”

  Marc tucked an old receipt between the pages to hold his place. “What kind of task?”

  “You have to make things right with your pawpaw.” Allie looked to her sister for affirmation. “We’re basically healing an old family rift, so don’t you think it makes sense to mend that relationship first?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Devyn pointed her icing bag at Marc. “Make nice with your pawpaw.”

  No way Marc would crawl on his knees to that meddling, crotchety old jerk—not after what he did to Allie. “When he’s ready to apologize, he can come to me.”

  “We don’t have time for that kind of stubbornness,” Allie said. “Besides, this will show the spirits you’re worth their help, so suck it up and be the bigger man.”

  Marc grumbled under his breath but didn’t say no. Then, speaking of bigger men, the front door opened with a light ding, and Beau ducked his auburn head, barely clearing the frame as he pushed inside.

  “Hey,” he said to Marc before his gaze drifted to Devyn and caught there. His green eyes flew wide, his giant sneakers pausing midstride, causing him to stumble for balance. All the color drained from his face while he gaped like a suffocating catfish.

  And he had the nerve to call Marc whipped. Beau probably couldn’t talk over the hook in his mouth.

  From farther down the counter, Allie drew a sharp breath, causing her sister to glance up from her tray of cookies. Devyn squeezed her bag so hard it sent spurts of icing clear across the counter. Her lips parted as widely as Beau’s, but no sound escaped.

  “Hey, Beau,” Allie said nervously. “What’re you doing here?”

  Beau spoke to Allie, but never took his eyes off her sister. “Checking on my brother.” Blindly, he pointed at Marc. “Ella-Claire said he seemed off, and when he wouldn’t answer the phone, I figured he was with you.”

  Allie released a tight laugh. “Well, he’s fine.” Her stiff, folded arms added, So you can go now. Then she laid a steadying hand on Devyn, who appeared to have quit breathing.

  Beau didn’t move an inch. Finally, he whispered, “Hi, Dev.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I didn’t know you worked here,” Beau went on. “Otherwise, I would have—”

  “You would’ve what?” she snapped. “Stayed away?”

  “No.” Beau shook his head, then contradicted, “Yes.”

  “Which is it?”

  “Neither,” he said, beads of sweat beginning to collect on his forehead. “I wanted to call on you, but Allie made it sound like you might not want me coming around.”

  “Really?” You could cut a tin can on the razor-sharp edge of her voice. “I can’t imagine why.”

  Marc and Allie shared the same uneasy glance. It was getting awkward in here.

  “Look,” Beau said, curling a muscled arm to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m awful sorry for . . .” He trailed off as his
gaze fell on the tray of cookies; then he tilted his head and took a step closer. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “That depends,” Marc said to lighten the mood. “Do you think it’s a left-leaning peen?”

  “Yeah, and it’s really happy to see me.” Beau’s upper lip hitched in disgust. “Do folks actually eat these?”

  Devyn threw down her icing bag and shouted, “I don’t work here! I’m just helping out!” then ran into the back room without another word. With a sigh, Allie handed her frosting bag to Marc and followed her sister, leaving him with a red-faced Beau and a tray full of half-decorated penis cookies.

  “Real smooth,” Marc said, tossing his brother the bag of white frosting while retrieving the flesh-colored one. “How could she possibly resist you now?” He bent over the counter and picked up where Devyn left off, outlining each member with a steady hand. The task was harder than it looked, no pun intended.

  Beau used the other bag to frost the tips. “When I woke up this morning, I never guessed I’d be doing this.”

  “Or running into your ex, I take it.”

  “No, I definitely didn’t see that coming.” Beau glowered at the white buttercream trickling from the end of each cookie. “No pun intended.”

  Marc snickered. “I know, right?”

  “I always wanted to tell her I was sorry,” Beau said. “Had ten years to cook up a good apology. But my noodle went blank when I saw her.”

  Marc couldn’t deny that his brother had botched it like a boss. “If she means that much to you, try again.”

  Beau made a noncommittal grunt. “Might do more harm than good.”

  “Wait a minute.” Marc lifted his head and stared at his big brother—the same guy who’d flattened the senior fullback at fourteen. “Are you scared?”

  “Psh,” Beau scoffed and cocked his head. “Of Devyn? No.”

  “Liar.”

  “It’s not that,” Beau insisted. “She doesn’t give two figs for me. Probably forgot I was even alive. What’s the point?”

  “I guess it depends on how long you’re sticking around.” As badly as Marc wanted to glance up to gauge his brother’s reaction, he kept his eyes trained on the cookie. “You gonna settle here, or are you just passing through?”

  Beau hesitated for a few beats. “I’ve got a few options. Sure do miss home, though.”

  “Me, too. I’ve got a place here in the city, but I’m thinking of giving it up and moving back to Cedar Bayou.”

  “Not a bad commute,” Beau said. “And you can stay on the Belle during high season.”

  “That’s what I figured.” Marc faked a casual shrug. “You could do the same . . . if you wanted.”

  “You think?”

  “Why not?”

  “Can you use me on board?”

  Marc knew what his brother was really asking: Can we work side by side without tearing out each other’s throats? “It’d be nice to have you around, even if you are a pain in my ass.”

  Beau chuckled quietly. “The feeling’s mutual, little brother.”

  “So you’ll stay?”

  After considering for a moment, Beau nodded. “Yeah, I think I will.” His smile fell as he scrutinized his bag of icing. “But, damn. Did we just bond over penis cookies?”

  Marc considered that for a moment. “Maybe. But no one needs to know.”

  • • •

  Allie followed the sound of sniffles and hiccups until she found her sister in the storage room pretending to inspect a can of baking soda—in the dark. Allie flipped on the lights and approached Devyn, then rested a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her away from the shelf.

  “You okay?” Allie said. “That must’ve been—”

  Her words died when she saw the twin trails leaking down Dev’s cheeks. In disbelief, Allie caught a teardrop on her finger and inspected it to ensure it was real. It was. She hadn’t seen Devyn cry since their parents’ funeral.

  Devyn scrubbed away the tears. Her voice was scratchy when she asked, “You know what I’ve been fantasizing about for the last ten years?”

  Allie wanted to say Channing Tatum and a tub of peanut butter? but it seemed like the wrong time for a joke. So she simply shook her head.

  Devyn jabbed a finger toward the front of the shop. “The day that asshole would come back to town, looking for me.”

  “But I thought—”

  “Not because I wanted him back,” Dev clarified. “To show him what he missed. I imagined I’d be gorgeous and successful with a hot stud on my arm. I’d rub it in Beau’s face, and then he’d be sorry for what he did.” Another tear slipped free as she gestured at her stained apron and her tangled ponytail. “But look at me—no makeup, no degree, lard in my hair, unemployed, and making pecker cookies!”

  “Aw, honey.” Allie tucked a stray curl behind Dev’s ear. “I’m sure that’s not what he’s thinking.” A hitched breath shook Devyn’s chest, making her seem five years old. It broke Allie’s heart.

  “This isn’t how I pictured my life,” Dev whispered. “It’s been ten years, and I’m no better off now than the day he left me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Dev challenged. “What have I accomplished?”

  Allie opened her mouth but drew a blank.

  Since Devyn had dropped out of college, she’d floated like cottonseed on the breeze from one dead-end job to the next—a summer traveling with the circus, three months as a dog walker, a week detailing hot rods, even a brief stint as a “virtual dominatrix.” Allie wasn’t sure what that entailed, and she didn’t intend to ask.

  “You helped me open the Sweet Spot,” Allie said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Dev waved her off. “That’s your baby, not mine.”

  “Technically, it’s our baby,” Allie reminded her. “Silent partner, remember?”

  A weak smile quirked Dev’s lips. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but we both know you’re the real talent here.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with trying new things,” Allie said. “So what if you took some time off to experiment? Don’t discount a whole decade of living because an old flame brought up bad feelings.”

  “It’s more than that,” Devyn insisted. “My high school reunion is in the fall, and I’m already inventing excuses not to go. All my friends have careers and kids and husbands . . . or at least ex-husbands. What am I supposed to say when they ask what I’m doing now?”

  “Maybe don’t mention the penis cookies.”

  That earned a small laugh. “I need to get my shit together—to buckle down and set goals.”

  “You can do it,” Allie said with an encouraging smile. “And I’ll help.”

  Dev took a deep breath as if to steel herself. Then she flashed a palm. “Maybe we should wait until after Vegas, though.”

  “Oh, totally. The road to hell is paved with tequila shots.”

  “And we’re going to travel it well,” Dev said. “But after our wild weekend of sin, I’m turning over a new leaf.” She nodded firmly. “For real this time.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  “And even though you don’t believe in the curse,” Dev said, “I’m going to help you break it. It’ll be the first useful thing I’ve done in years.”

  “Thanks, baby.” Allie squeezed her sister’s hand. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  For both of them—she had a good feeling.

  Chapter 16

  That good feeling was still lifting Allie’s cheeks a few nights later when she passed the WELCOME TO CEDAR BAYOU sign and turned down the pockmarked road leading to the heart of her hometown. The setting sun sluiced through the windshield, blinding her to a new traffic light at the intersection of Fifth and Main that had just flashed from yellow to red.

 
How long had that been there?

  She skidded to a halt halfway through the intersection, then backed up and hoped the deputy wasn’t hiding in his usual spot behind the Frosty Queen drive- thru. Otherwise she’d get the wrong kind of welcome home. The eighty-five-dollar kind. Her voodoo heritage had kept half the town at bay, but it’d never saved her from a ticket.

  Go figure.

  Devyn reached over from the passenger seat and flipped down Allie’s sun visor. “If you keep squinting like that, your crow’s-feet will be as bad as mine.”

  “Only you,” Allie said. “I almost ran a red light and you’re lecturing me about wrinkles.”

  Dev swept a hand toward the adjacent street, populated by a handful of birds scavenging bits of discarded hot dog bun from the sidewalk. “Who would you hit?”

  “With my luck?” Allie asked. “A troop of Girl Scouts. Walking puppies.”

  “Nah. We haven’t had a Girl Scout troop since that unfortunate archery incident in the town square a few years ago.” Devyn grimaced. “Now the mayor walks with a limp and I buy my Thin Mints in the next parish.”

  Allie stifled a laugh. “Poor Mayor Bisbee.”

  “He doesn’t get much sympathy around here these days.” Dev pointed at the traffic light, which had turned green. “Not since he put the kibosh on Tad Miller’s shine operation.”

  “A lot’s happened since I moved away.”

  Allie continued down Main Street, but nothing looked different since her visit at Christmas. The last freestanding video store in the known universe was still in business, a testament to the lack of technology in this tiny parish. Right on cue, Allie’s cell phone beeped to announce an interruption in her signal.

  “Scientists can clone mammals,” she complained, “but they can’t bring cell service to Cedar Bayou. How backward is that?”

  “Preach it, sister.”

  But despite her complaints, Allie turned a loving eye to the honeysuckle bushes lining the St. Mary’s churchyard. She rolled down her window and let the sweet breeze toss her curls as she pulled in a lungful of clean, bayou air—the kind you couldn’t get in the city. She passed other childhood haunts, like the corner grocery, where fifty cents would buy a Drumstick ice-cream cone and two pieces of Dubble Bubble.