Make You Remember

by Macy Beckett

  “Huh.” Warren didn’t seem to buy her excuse, but he wasn’t complaining. “Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad to have you on the team. Welcome to Larabee Amusements.”

  They said good-bye, and Devyn watched him drive away before she faced her new workplace. Then her heavy stomach sank another inch.

  To anyone else, the Belle of the Bayou would seem like a Mark Twain fantasy come to life. Its wood decks were waxed to a high gloss and lined with oversize rocking chairs. Each outward-facing room was framed by an arch of freshly painted white latticework, which contrasted brilliantly against the massive red paddle wheel anchoring the stern and the dual black smokestacks stretching toward the sky. As historical reproductions went, the Belle was at the top of her class.

  But Devyn saw this boat for what it really was: a lion’s den.

  And the biggest beast of them all was standing on the second-level deck glaring at her as if she’d already let him down. She checked her watch and yelled, “Save the lecture, Dumont. I’m ten minutes early.”

  Wood planks squeaked beneath Beau’s considerable weight as he clomped down the stairs to meet her at the head of the ramp. The way he narrowed those hazel green eyes at her made Devyn wonder if she had dressed inappropriately. She didn’t see a problem with her khaki skirt and floral T-shirt, but what did she know?

  “It’s business casual until the cruise next week, right?” she asked.

  He ignored the question and jutted his chin toward the parking lot. “Who was that?”

  “Who?” She glanced over her shoulder at the vacant asphalt.

  “That guy who drove you here.”

  The mere mention of Warren Larabee had her gaze dropping to the tips of her white canvas sneakers. She wasn’t ready to admit to anyone—not even her sister—that she had accepted a job to lead cemetery tours. It was too shameful. So she returned Beau’s glare and squared her shoulders. “None of your business, that’s who.” Then she skirted his massive body and stepped onto the deck. “Why don’t you just point me in the right direction so I can start my job?”

  He didn’t say anything at first. But when he was done staring her down, he abruptly turned and strode inside without a word. She followed, wondering what had crawled up his butt so early this morning.

  She instantly regretted thinking about his butt.

  Against Devyn’s will, her focus locked onto the rock- hard contours of his backside displayed beneath thin, faded jeans that cupped him in all the right places. From there, she watched his long, powerful legs move through the halls in strides so brisk she scurried to keep up. As spectacular as it was, his lower half paled in comparison to the muscled planes of his back and a pair of shoulders so broad they stretched the fabric of his T-shirt to near transparency.

  Damn it. Why did he have to look so scrumptious?

  Devyn was no angel. She’d partied with her fair share of men over the years, but it would take three standard hotties to equal one Beau Dumont. He had the most strikingly male physique she’d ever seen. It was what had drawn her eye when they’d first met in high school. She’d been a junior varsity cheerleader, and he’d been the captain of the football team. She remembered standing on the sidelines admiring him during one of the games when she should have been doing toe-touches. He had a body that said Don’t worry, baby. You’re safe. Nothing can hurt you while I’m around.

  It was a shame that what was inside didn’t match his outside appearance. Because no girl was safe in Beau Dumont’s presence.

  He led her across a wide lobby to the check-in desk, which was labeled the PURSER’S STATION. A twentysomething brunette with a shoulder-length ponytail stood behind the counter and squinted at her computer. Devyn recognized the girl as Ella-Claire, Marc’s half sister. Their paths had crossed a time or two since the wedding, and she seemed nice enough.

  “Hey, darlin’,” Beau said to Ella. “Can you take care of Miss Mauvais’s paperwork?”

  Ella flicked a glance at Devyn before offering Beau a warm smile. Seriously warm. As in the sufficient temperature to bake an apple pie. “For you?” she chirped. “Anything.”

  Oh, barf.

  Devyn didn’t know why she cared, but the whole exchange left her feeling queasy. Maybe it was all the Bacardi she drank over the weekend. She was pushing thirty now, and she couldn’t hold her liquor like she used to.

  Ella-Claire handed Devyn a clipboard full of papers. “I’ll get you a staff polo. What’s your size?”

  “Medium,” Beau answered for her.

  After a knowing smile and a wink—yes, an actual wink—Ella trotted off to the back room to retrieve a shirt. When she returned, she slid it across the counter and started talking with Beau about onshore excursions in Natchez.

  While filling out her paperwork, Devyn recalled that Marc and Ella-Claire shared the same mom but had different fathers, while Beau and Marc shared the same dad, but had different mothers. Which meant that Beau wasn’t actually related to the pretty young thing. Wonder if he’s nailed her yet, Devyn thought. With his track record, it seemed likely.

  Not that she cared or anything.

  Devyn had just finished signing her second W-9 of the day when blond twins, who both resembled a young Matt Damon, strode behind the counter and began rifling through the cabinets. She’d met the pair at her sister’s wedding reception, but she couldn’t remember their names or tell them apart, so she secretly referred to them as Thing One and Thing Two.

  “Hey there, gorgeous,” said Thing One, making more eye contact with Devyn’s chest than anything else. “Welcome aboard. I’m Nick. If you need anything—and I mean anything—I’m your man.”

  Devyn plastered on a sickly sweet grin. “Hi, Nick. Quit staring at my tits, or you’ll be wearing this clipboard like an enema.”

  Thing Two burst out laughing and slapped his twin brother on the back. “I like her. Good call, Beau.”

  Beau didn’t seem to think Devyn was quite as hilarious, but his lips twitched and his gaze sparkled when it landed on hers. For no reason at all, Devyn’s pulse hitched. Probably that second cup of coffee. Yeah, that had to be it.

  Beau must have completely gotten over whatever was irritating him, because he grinned as he led her away from the lobby and toward the education center at the heart of the boat.

  “You’ll bunk with a roommate once the cruise starts,” he explained as they wound their way through the narrow halls. “There’s not much space, so pack light.”

  “Can I bunk with Allie?”

  “You can try,” he said. “But I don’t think Marc’s bed is big enough for the three of you.”

  Devyn’s cheeks heated. “Sometimes I forget they’re married.”

  “Don’t worry,” Beau said with a hint of sarcasm. “You’ll have plenty of reminders when you’re around them twenty-four seven.”

  She was about to ask if Allie was here today when Beau ushered her inside a room that resembled a day-care center. A few travel cribs lined the far wall with a changing station in the corner. On the opposite side of a movable room partition stood a rectangular classroom table. Squishy foam alphabet tiles carpeted the floor, and a glance at the ceiling revealed paper chains strung from corner to corner.

  Why had he brought her in here?

  “There’s been a small change of plan,” Beau said. “We’re putting you in charge of the oldest group, the eight-to-twelve-year-olds.”

  “Oldest group?” she repeated in a daze.

  “There aren’t many on this trip. You won’t have more than ten, and that’s assuming their parents drop them off every day. Some folks don’t.”

  Devyn swallowed hard. This wasn’t the kind of education center she’d had in mind. She’d pictured a mini museum where she would hand out pamphlets and recite historical facts for passengers who gave a shit about things like that.

  Clearly, she’d been wrong.

  She envisioned the room at full capacity, dozens of shrieking rug rats varying in age from infants to twelve-year-o
lds, each demanding attention for a very specific set of needs. This was a problem. Devyn didn’t even like kids. They were exhausting and selfish and they smelled like peanut butter and warm cheese.

  “I’m a babysitter?” she asked. “For two solid weeks?”

  The way Beau’s mouth dropped open made her think she’d offended him. “There are no babysitters here. We offer more than child care. You’ll be teaching the kids about river travel, everything from the history of steamers in the Civil War to the math and science behind steam engines. We’ve got a collection of lesson plans all ready to go.”

  Okay, so a glorified babysitter. “This isn’t what I expected.”

  “What did you think I was hiring you to do?”

  After she explained it to him, Beau shook his head. “We already have an onboard historian—our pawpaw.”

  “Your grandpa?” They actually let that cantankerous old geezer interact with the public? “The same guy who brews moonshine and sells it in baby food jars at the farmer’s market?”

  Beau scratched the back of his neck and took a sudden interest in his shoes. “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “Isn’t there somewhere else you can use me?”

  When Beau glanced up, a hint of mischief twinkled in his eyes. “I can think of a dozen delightful ways to use you, Kitten. But the only staffer I need is right here in the center.”

  Devyn slumped against the doorjamb and sighed, too deflated to think of a witty comeback. She could barely tolerate two hours in the company of little kids, let alone two weeks. The worst part was that after this assignment lurked an equally soul-sucking job of playing dress-up and leading strangers to her ancestors’ graves. There seemed to be no end in sight to her troubles, no second chances.

  This was her life now.

  “Don’t look so excited,” Beau said, his tone flat.

  “It’s just . . .”

  “This isn’t what you expected,” he finished.

  “Yeah.” She pulled in a fortifying breath. “But don’t worry. I’ll survive. I can handle almost anything for two weeks.”

  “Nice attitude.” Beau’s mood shifted, darkening while he folded both arms across his chest. “Because that’s what every kid wants—to feel like a temporary burden for you to survive.”

  She spun on him. “How dare you try to dump a guilt trip on me! I didn’t ask for this. You strong-armed me into coming here, remember?”

  “Yeah.” He closed the distance between them until they stood an inch apart, with the set of his shoulders every bit as tight as his mouth. Even though she hadn’t done anything wrong, his heated stare made Devyn want to hide her face. “I thought this job would be good for you.”

  He couldn’t be serious. “Good for me, how?”

  Beau pointed at the miniature chairs surrounding the classroom table. “This was your dream once—and you were good at it. Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I haven’t. I was hoping you could reconnect with that old passion and do something with your life.”

  She matched his stubborn stance, folding her arms and refusing to look at him. What Beau didn’t seem to comprehend was that high school was a long time ago. A lot had changed since then. Including herself.

  Beau cupped her chin and turned her to face him. “I know how you bounce from one dead-end job to the next. Allie told me. You’re floundering, Dev.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. And you’re better than that.”

  She pushed away his hand, but she couldn’t refute his words. There was truth in his statement—the kind of raw honesty that settled in her lungs and choked her.

  “Spend the day here,” he said. “Go through the lesson plans. Decide whether this is something you think you could be good at. If it’s not, I’ll let you off the hook.” He lowered his head and used his eyes to deliver an ultimatum. “All or nothing. I won’t let you half-ass it. Are we clear?”

  Devyn nodded.

  “I’ll be in the casino installing some new slots,” he said. “Come find me when you make up your mind.”

  • • •

  “Baking soda?”

  Devyn stepped inside the walk-in pantry and scanned the shelves until she found what she was looking for. She pulled back the industrial-sized plastic lid and peered inside. “Half a can.”

  “I’ll add it to the list.” Allie scribbled on her notepad.

  After an hour of skimming riverboat-themed craft ideas and rolling her eyes at cheesy historical role-playing activities, Devyn had snuck out of the education center to the boat’s galley to help her sister inventory ingredients. The task wasn’t exactly a thrill ride, but at least she was in good company. Besides, she had spent so much time at the Sweet Spot bakery that she felt at home with flour in her hair and Crisco beneath her fingernails.

  “I wish I could work in here with you,” Devyn said. “That makes a hell of a lot more sense than sticking me in the romper room.”

  Instead of weighing in with her opinion, Allie bent over her notepad and pretended to study the list she’d made—the one with only a handful of items on it.

  Something was up.

  “What?” Devyn asked. “Spit it out.”

  Allie bit her lip and glanced up with an apology in her mismatched amber-gray eyes. “I know you’re not happy in the education center, and I can empathize. During the last cruise, I had to serve drinks in the casino because Chef Regale wouldn’t let me in the galley. It was demeaning. But Beau really went to bat for you this morning to get you that position.”

  “What?” That made no sense. Beau had practically forced her into taking the job, which implied that he was desperate. Allie made it sound like there were a swarm of applicants.

  “At the family meeting,” Allie said, “there were a few . . . well . . . concerns about letting you work with the kids. But Beau wouldn’t back down. It caused a fight, and things are still kind of awkward between the brothers.”

  Devyn’s lips parted. “Nobody wants me here?” She sounded hurt, even to her own ears, though she didn’t know why she cared. She didn’t even like the Dumonts.

  “I want you here,” Allie promised. “Beau does, too. But the rest of the family”—she cringed and spoke her next words through her teeth—“they think you’re a little scary.”

  “Me?” Devyn repeated, pointing at herself. “I’m not scary!”

  Allie tipped her head and raised a brow. “Did you or did you not threaten to shove a clipboard up Nicky’s ass?”

  “Psh, that doesn’t count,” Devyn said with a flick of her wrist. “The skeevy bastard had it coming.”

  “Maybe, but you could have handled it like a professional.” Allie tucked her pencil behind one ear. “And Ella-Claire is afraid you don’t like her.”

  Devyn splayed both hands. “But I didn’t do anything!”

  “That’s exactly the point,” Allie said. “You didn’t smile or shake her hand or show any interest in her as a person. What was she supposed to think?”

  Allie was wrong about one thing. Devyn had shown an interest in Ella-Claire, but only as it applied to Beau. She still wanted to know if the two had done the deed. “Okay, so I could have been a little friendlier. But that doesn’t mean I’m a terrifying monster who eats children.”

  “I know that.” Allie’s face broke into a gentle smile, and she crossed the galley to rest a hand on Devyn’s shoulder. “You’re my best friend and the finest person I’ve ever met. Look at how you helped me get the Sweet Spot off the ground. You could have done anything with the money Mom and Dad left us, but you used it to help buy the shop.” Her eyes misted over.

  Allie was such a softie. If she discovered the sad state of Devyn’s bank account, she’d probably take out a second mortgage on the bakery and give back that money. Which was why she couldn’t find out.

  “Any good sister would have done the same,” Devyn mumbled.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Allie said. “You’re special, whether or not you believe it. I want everyone e
lse to see the real you, but first you have to let them in. It wouldn’t kill you to lighten up, either.”

  Even if Devyn agreed with her sister’s advice, which she didn’t, what was the point of forging friendships with a family who had spent the last century using and discarding women? Memère had jinxed their line for a reason—her Dumont lover had ditched her at the altar, and all these years later, the men in that clan still couldn’t keep it in their pants. Just look at Beau’s dad. That sleaze had enough offspring to populate a small country.

  The doubt must have shown on Devyn’s face, because Allie said, “They’re good people. Even Beau. I know it hurt when he ran out on you—I was there to pick up the pieces—but he’s not that same selfish boy anymore. He’s trying to make amends. And he has faith in you.”

  For some odd reason, that burned even worse than hearing that his brothers didn’t want her here. Devyn’s chest grew heavy when she remembered the disappointment on Beau’s face and the way his voice had gone soft when he’d given her the option to quit. She hated that Beau had the power to make her feel ashamed, but he did.

  “You should stay and give it a try,” Allie said. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “I could get pinkeye. That stuff runs rampant in day cares.”

  “Never killed anyone.”

  “What about norovirus? I could die from dehydration.”

  “The nurse has meds for that.”

  “The boat could sink.”

  Allie playfully shoved Devyn’s shoulder. “Then we’ll go down together. It’ll be way more interesting than dying of old age.”

  A smile played across Devyn’s lips. Leave it to Allie to put things in perspective. “Okay, but if we have a Titanic moment, you’d better not let me go like Rose did to Jack.”

  “Never. You’re stuck with me.” Allie gathered her in a hug.

  “Can you handle inventory on your own?” Devyn asked. “I need to find Beau.”

  “Go ahead.” Allie offered a gentle push toward the door to make her point. “But be sweet to him, okay? He really did—”