by Macy Beckett
She reminded herself of that as she strode into the gym, where the bleachers were folded against the walls and the basketball hoops were cranked toward the ceiling. The decorating committee had covered several rows of cafeteria lunch tables with white linen and a scattering of balloon clusters, transporting her back to a time when her greatest worry was which outfit would make a boy’s jaw drop.
Aside from her financial woes, it would seem she’d come full circle.
Streamers crisscrossed the dimly lit room, and Snoop Dogg’s “Drop It Like It’s Hot” played from someone’s iPod docking station in the corner. It was like prom night all over again, except for the standing bar erected near the floor mats. She made a beeline for the booze, and once she had a lemon drop martini in hand, she scanned the room for a familiar face.
“Dev!”
A woman’s shout drew Devyn’s attention to a small group gathered on the opposite side of the gym. She squinted in the dim lighting and recognized Margo and some of the other cheerleaders who’d moved away from the bayou after graduation. When Devyn waved, Margo bounced with excitement, then cringed and cradled her pregnant belly between both hands.
“Hey,” Devyn said, joining Margo with outstretched arms.
After a long hug, Margo pulled back to look at Devyn. “You’re stunning. I hate you.” But her warm smile promised the opposite.
“Oh, please.” Devyn flapped a hand and patted her friend’s swollen tummy. “You’re absolutely glowing. Congratulations! Is this your first?”
“Our third,” Margo said and introduced her husband. One by one, each woman in the group did the same until they glanced at Devyn and paused expectantly.
She held up her naked left hand. “Still single.” The girls followed with a chorus of Good for you and Nothing wrong with that, but a shadow of pity softened their tone. “My sister, Allie, got married, though,” Devyn said, shamelessly deflecting. “Just a couple of months ago, to Marc Dumont.”
That made eyebrows rise. Until recently, no Dumont man had made it to the altar since the day Memère jinxed their line. Few people believed in the curse, but firsthand experience had shown Devyn it was like thunder—impossible to see, but very real. She still didn’t know how Marc had broken the hex, but for her sister’s sake, she was glad that he did. Allie’s feet hadn’t touched the ground since their Vegas wedding.
“Maybe Beau’s next,” said Margo with a teasing elbow nudge. She nodded toward the gym doors. “He’s been watching you since you walked into the room.”
Devyn glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing there, the top of his head barely clearing the doorway as he leaned against the jamb and folded his muscled arms. He winked at her, and she turned back to Margo with an eye roll. “Don’t hold your breath.”
From there, the discussion turned to careers. Devyn learned that her old cheer squad had gone on to become Web designers, freelance writers, and stay-at-home moms. When her turn came to share, Devyn played it off with a carefree shrug. “I haven’t quite decided what I want to be when I grow up.”
Everyone laughed and Devyn was able to unclench her shoulders. Margo had just pulled out her iPhone to show everyone pictures of her children when she glanced across the room and squealed in delight. “Jenny’s here! And Slade!”
Devyn smoothed the front of her dress, sucked in her tummy, and turned slowly toward the gym entrance to catch a glimpse of her nemesis. Would Jenny’s eyes have grown dull, darkened by circles of exhaustion? Had her golden hair faded with time and too much chemical processing? Would Slade have lost half his hair and gained a hundred pounds?
As it turned out, no.
The pair strutted into view looking better than ever, damn it.
Jenny tossed a curtain of glossy blond hair over one shoulder, rocking a designer halter dress paired with knee-high stiletto boots. Even in the dim lighting, a set of obscenely large diamond studs winked from her earlobes, and she made sure everyone spotted the quilted Chanel bag on her shoulder. Slade was dressed more like a Greek billionaire than the soccer stud that Devyn remembered. Whatever the pair had been up to these past ten years, they had clearly made more money than the Rockefellers.
Those bastards.
After a round of hugs and hellos, Jenny pinned Devyn with a critical gaze. “Well, if it isn’t Devyn Mauvais. Bless your little heart.”
Whatever. Every Southern girl knew that was code for “Go die in a fire.”
Devyn smiled sweetly. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite Hore.”
“Actually, it’s Summers now.” Jenny thrust forward her left hand to display a diamond approximately the size of the moon.
Devyn quietly sipped her martini, but her lack of enthusiasm didn’t stop Jenny from launching into a story about her sunset wedding ceremony on a private beach just outside Cabo San Lucas. For the next ten minutes, she spun a tale of nauseating excess that had the whole group transfixed. Even Beau Dumont had ambled over to hear the details.
Devyn had long since tuned out the prattle, so she was caught off guard when Jenny abruptly stopped and pointed at her.
“What?” Devyn asked.
Jenny covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Nice dress, Dev.”
Devyn stood a bit straighter and smiled. “Thanks. I picked it up for a steal.”
“I know,” Jenny said. “From the Tulane Avenue Goodwill, right? That’s where I donated it.” She leaned down to inspect the side hem. “Yep. There’s the stain I never could get out.”
Devyn stopped breathing.
“It looks cute on you, though,” Jenny added with a shrug that said, But not as good as it looked on me. “One girl’s trash is another girl’s treasure, right?”
At once, Devyn felt the weight of two dozen gazes shifting in her direction. Her upper body went numb, as if she had slept with both arms tucked beneath her pillow and cut off her circulation. Several charged beats passed in silence before she forced a wide grin and toasted her enemy. “Are you calling a Gucci design trash? I do believe that’s blasphemy.”
A few people chuckled, but it was a this is getting awkward kind of laugh.
Jenny smoothed her fingers possessively through Slade’s hair. “You crack me up, Dev. Always have.”
Maybe it was the public humiliation, or maybe it was the martini, but something hijacked Devyn’s vocal cords and forced her to blurt out, “That’s what my boyfriend says.”
Oh, shit. What had she just done?
“Hey.” Margo delivered a good-natured shove. “You didn’t say anything about a boyfriend. Spill! I want to hear all about him.”
“Yes,” Jenny said as if sniffing blood in the water. “Spill.”
It took a moment for Devyn to find her voice. “He’s . . . great. Big and gorgeous and super sweet. We’re crazy about each other.”
“Is he local?” asked Margo.
“Uh . . . kind of.”
“Kind of?” Jenny asked with an arched brow. “What’s his name?”
Yeah, you idiot, Devyn chided herself. What’s his name? “I can’t say. We’re keeping things on the down-low.” Double shit! Who actually said on the down-low anymore?
“What does he do for a living?” asked Margo.
Devyn said the first thing that came to mind. “He owns a business.” When that didn’t seem to satisfy anyone, she fumbled. “I can’t say anything more, or you’ll know who he is.”
The triumphant smile that curled Jenny’s lips said she knew it was a lie. And clearly she would take great pleasure in raking Devyn over the coals. “Oh, come on,” Jenny crooned. “Give us a hint. We won’t tell.” She glanced around at her friends. “Will we?”
Everyone shook their heads and peered at Devyn, waiting for her to speak. Her eyes locked with Beau’s for one interminable moment, the intensity behind his gaze hot enough to tighten her stomach. Why did he have to be here to witness this? She had always hoped to make him sorry one day, but he probably thought he’d dodged a bullet when he ditched her all those yea
rs ago.
“Go on,” Jenny prodded. “Tell us who he is.”
Devyn’s palms began to sweat. This was like a nightmare, only worse. Because she would rather deliver a naked speech in front of the whole school than admit she’d invented a fictitious boyfriend. Just when she opened her mouth to dig herself a deeper hole, Beau crossed through the center of the group and stood by her side.
Slipping an arm around her waist, Beau pulled her hard against him and announced, “It’s me. I’m Dev’s boyfriend—and her boss.”
Chapter 2
Beau kept going and hoped like hell no one realized he was talking out of his ass.
“That’s why we had to keep it quiet,” he said. “Dev’s managing the education center on my riverboat, and I didn’t want anyone thinking she earned the job on those pretty little knees.” He delivered a hard smack to her bottom. “Isn’t that right, Kitten?”
Devyn squeaked at the physical contact, fisting her martini glass almost hard enough to shatter it. When she swiveled her ice-blue gaze to his, he couldn’t tell whether she wanted to kiss him or drive one of those pretty little knees between his legs.
“Mmm-hmm,” she forced out. “Plus, there’s all that bad blood between our families.”
“A hundred years’ worth,” he agreed. “But now that Marc and Allie have tied the knot, why not go public?”
Margo bounced on her toes, pointing a wild finger at them. “I knew it! I could tell from the way you were watching her!”
Beau playfully ruffled Devyn’s curls. “What can I say? The flame never died. I got back to town and we picked up right where we left off,” he said as he waggled his eyebrows. “Except it’s a thousand times hotter. I can’t keep her off me—she’s an animal in the sack.”
The corners of Devyn’s mouth tightened. “I’m just making up for lost time, Sugar Dumplin’. You know, that whole decade we missed out on.”
He ignored the jab and lifted his Sam Adams toward that bitch, Jenny Hore. “I don’t care where her dress came from, it’s going to look great on my bedroom floor tonight.” Then he tipped back his bottle for a deep pull.
Dev pinched his back hard enough to make him yelp. “I can’t wait,” she said. “Did you remember to take your little blue pill?”
Beau coughed and sputtered beer into his fist. She knew damn well he didn’t have any performance issues, and that shit was hitting below the belt. “Come on, baby,” he said as he set down their drinks and nodded toward the dance floor. “They’re playing our song.”
Slade Summers wrinkled his forehead. “Your song is ‘Bump n’ Grind’?”
“Yeah.” Beau thumbed at Devyn. “It’s her stripper jam. She loves to dance for me.”
“Lucky bastard.”
“You said it, man.” Beau went in for a fist bump, but Devyn tugged him away before it connected.
“That’s enough, honey,” she said. “Nobody wants to hear what I have to do to get your Magic Stick to stand—”
“Great seeing you again,” Beau boomed while ushering Dev away from the group. When they were out of earshot, he whispered, “What the hell? I’m trying to help you.”
“My stripper jam?” she hissed. “You had to go there?”
“What about that Viagra comment?” He pulled her into a dance, his hands sliding around her waist while she reluctantly locked both wrists around his neck. “I don’t need a pill to get my Magic Stick standing, which I’m sure you remember all too well.”
She shot him a smile full of poison. “Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much.”
“Yeah?” he asked. “Methinks you weren’t protesting all those times I had you wide open on the riverbank begging for my—”
“Bless your heart, Beau Dumont,” she interrupted, eyes cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. “Bless it right out of your chest.”
He chuckled to himself. “I don’t think you really mean that.”
“Then maybe you’re even more stupid than I thought.”
Ouch. It seemed Kitten had her claws out tonight.
Beau remembered a time when Devyn talked sweetly to him—in the months before graduation, when they were young and head over heels in lust. She had spent countless hours wrapped around him, all softness and light. They’d hiked and fished and skinny-dipped before making love in the tall grass and walking home with chigger bites in some really interesting places.
Those were the best days of his life; so naturally, he’d bolted.
For the first time since leading Devyn to the dance floor, he became aware of her nearness, the way their fused bodies moved in an effortless, synchronized rhythm. It had always been like this with her. They’d had their fair share of problems, but rhythm wasn’t one of them. Of their own volition, his hands slid from her waist to find their favorite resting spot at the base of her spine, right where the curve of her ass began. With her heated skin pressed so close, he realized she still smelled the same, like honeysuckle and sex. He’d missed that scent.
He’d missed her.
Devyn seemed to sense the shift in his mood, because she peered up at him and lifted one eyebrow in warning. “Listen,” she began, then hesitated. “About what happened with Jenny . . .”
“I think the words you’re looking for,” he said, dipping his mouth an inch from hers, “are Thank you, Beau. You’re my hero.”
She pushed him back. “Whatever. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Devyn’s icy mask faltered as she studied him beneath a fringe of thick lashes. “Why’d you do it?”
Beau shrugged. “Jenny’s an asshole. Back in high school, she came on to me in the boys’ locker room, and when I shot her down, she spread an ugly rumor about my mama.”
“Oh, yeah.” Dev sucked a sympathetic breath through her teeth, and for a moment, they were friends again. “I remember that. Nobody believed her, you know.”
“Good.” Beau was used to folks flapping their gums about his daddy. The old dirty bastard had six sons by five different women, including a baby due in December. But Beau’s mama was innocent in the whole mess. The only mistake she’d made was loving the wrong man. “Still pissed me off, though.”
“Not to change the subject,” Dev said, “but when are we going to break up? I need to quit that fake job, too.”
“Whoa, now. Not so fast.” He really did need an educational director for the next cruise. Devyn wasn’t a certified teacher, but she’d spent some time in college training as one. Plus, now that her sister had married Beau’s brother, they were practically family. She would fit right in with the rest of the crew. “You can dump me any time you want, but the job’s not fake. You start next week.”
“Excuse me?” She pulled back and cocked her head. “You can’t be serious.”
“Careful, Kitten,” he said, nodding toward the group. “We’re supposed to be madly in love, remember?”
With an exasperated sigh, she rested her cheek on his chest. The affectionate gesture did nothing to soften the acid in her voice, and in the blink of an eye, their temporary friendship came to an end. “I’m not setting foot aboard that floating garbage heap. Especially not with you.”
“Watch it,” he warned. Trashing the Belle was almost as bad as talking smack about his mama. “I saved your hide back there, and you’re going to repay the favor. Our director’s on maternity leave. I only need you for a couple of weeks.”
“Not happening.”
“What’s the problem?” Beau asked. “Allie told me you lost your job. The salary for this position is more than what your old temp agency paid.” Once again, Devyn should be thanking him, not digging in her heels.
“Maybe I don’t want to work under you.” Then she emphasized, “Or be under you.”
An automatic grin formed on his lips. It sounded an awful lot like she didn’t trust herself around him. To test his theory, Beau lowered his mouth to her right ear, which he recalled was more sensitive than the left. “Afraid you won’t
be able to keep your hands off me?”
She shivered in his arms and said, “You wish,” but her breath hitched, rendering the words powerless.
Beau brushed his lips over her earlobe before taking it gently between his teeth. In response, Devyn released a sigh that sent a jolt of lust straight to his Jockeys. “Then you have no reason to worry,” he murmured. “I’ll see you first thing Monday morning . . . unless you want to admit to your friends that we lied.”
The song ended, and they ceased their lazy sway. Devyn looked up at him, her blue eyes charged with a mingling of desire and loathing, mostly the latter. “All right,” she said. “But only for two weeks, then consider us even.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said, noting that his Magic Stick certainly was. That soldier was all too happy to be back in Dev’s company. Beau gave a slight nod toward her friends. “We can go over there if you want. But I’m warning you, any more mentions of little blue pills and I’ll tell them about your recent spanking fetish.”
“Forget it,” she said, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’m just going home to burn this dress.”
Beau couldn’t blame her. For show, he settled a hand at her lower back. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
She shifted a glare at him. “Not necessary.”
“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t walk you out?”
“Fine.” She sighed, kicking off her high heels and handing them over. “A good boyfriend would hold my stilettos.”
They reached her table and she shoved her purse at him. “And my bag.”
Beau grumbled under his breath. This fake boyfriend thing was for the birds. Here he was holding a purse, and he wasn’t even getting fake lucky tonight. As long as she didn’t ask him to buy a box of tampons. That was where he drew the line.
After a round of good-byes to their old friends, Devyn and Beau walked out the back door and crossed the parking lot. He didn’t know where she was leading him, though. Once they made it to the rear of the lot, it became clear there were no cars out there.
“Oh, no,” Devyn moaned, jogging a full rotation around a Dumpster-sized clothing donation bin before stopping and hanging her head. “It’s gone. He must have followed me here when I left the house.”
