Make You Remember
Page 6
“Not always,” he objected. “Only when you’re around.”
She didn’t believe that—once a Dumont, always a Dumont.
Deciding to derail that train of thought, she turned her attention to the boys. “Anyway, I had to bribe them to participate in my lesson. From the way they acted, you’d think I was dragging them over fifty yards of broken glass.”
“Give yourself some slack,” Beau said. “They’re kids on vacation. Everyone needs some down time.”
Devyn supposed he was right, but she hated that the boys would leave here and dread returning in the morning. “Still. How do I make it fun for them?”
Beau shrugged and stated the obvious. “They’re boys.” When she gave him a No shit, Sherlock glare, he added, “Appeal to what boys like.”
“And what’s that?”
He cracked his knuckles and thought about it. “When I was that age, I was into country music, video games, football, and girls. Not necessarily in that order.”
Devyn grabbed her clipboard away from him. “Real helpful, thanks.”
“Oh, and blowing things up. That’s some good, clean, redneck fun, right there.”
“You’re a regular genius,” she said with an eye roll. “However can I repay your sage advice?”
When he grinned, she quickly amended, “Don’t answer that.”
Laughing, Beau stood from the table and ruffled her hair. “You’ll be fine. Just dip a little deeper into your bag of tricks, that’s all.”
“You make it sound so simple,” Devyn said as she straightened her curls and slouched. What she needed was more tricks in her bag.
“They’re boys. It doesn’t get any simpler than that.”
But he was wrong.
Over the next three days, Devyn dug all the way to the bottom of her bag of tricks, to no avail. Her lesson on the math and science of paddle-wheel propulsion was a bust, the kids tuned out her informative lecture on the economy of interstate trade, and one boy actually nodded off while playing the “boat race” board game she’d spent all day building.
She was officially tapped out.
“How about crafts?” suggested Ella-Claire one night from the bottom bunk. “Maybe a scrapbook of their trip? The students can color pictures and keep a journal for a keepsake to take home.”
Devyn shifted on her mattress to dodge a rogue spring poking her hip. “These kids are too old for crafts. They’re in that weird in-between age when they’re too young to sit still for lectures but too mature for crayons and finger paint. I’m competing for their attention with Mario and Luigi, and I’m getting my ass kicked.”
“Well, in all fairness, they do have Princess Peach.”
“And Yoshi.”
“Yeah,” Ella said. “The deck is totally stacked against you.”
A series of musical knocks rapped at the door, followed by a man’s voice. He sounded close, as if he’d pushed his lips against the crack between the door and the wall. “Elles-Bells,” he called. “You awake?”
“Elles-Bells?” asked Devyn.
“It’s Alex. Mind if I let him in?”
“Go ahead. All my interesting parts are covered.”
Ella flipped back her blanket and answered the door . . . wearing nothing but a T-shirt that barely covered her panties, something that didn’t escape Devyn’s notice. When Ella turned on the light and let Thing Two inside, her wardrobe choice didn’t escape his notice either. His eyes flew cartoonishly wide and locked on to Ella’s legs.
“You could have told me you weren’t decent,” he said, still staring.
“Dork.” Playfully, Ella shoved him in the shoulder. But unlike the casual touches she gave the other Dumont brothers, this one lingered. She threaded an arm through his and peered up at him with more than just warmth in her gaze—this was full-on heat. Interesting. “You saw a lot more than this when we went tubing on Saturday.”
A dopey smile broke out on Thing Two’s face. “And when we went fishing the weekend before that. God bless that little string bikini of yours.” He parked his backside on the edge of the dresser and seemed to notice Devyn for the first time. When he spotted her, his brows jumped like she’d caught him doing something wrong, and he detangled his arm from Ella’s. Very interesting. “Oh,” he said with a shaky wave. “Hey, Devyn.”
She waved back and propped on one elbow to study him. Devyn was no behavioral analyst, but it seemed like Thing Two had a thing for Marc’s half sister. Devyn pointed back and forth between the pair. “You two are . . .” She trailed off, thick with the implication.
“Friends,” Thing Two said quickly, and with a bit more emphasis than necessary.
“Best friends,” Ella clarified. “Since we were kids.”
“Uh-huh.” Best friends with benefits, probably. “How sweet.”
While Thing Two and Ella-Claire huddled around his iPhone to watch a funny video he’d found online, Devyn pulled her own cell from beneath her pillow.
Ella-Claire and Alex, she texted her sister, are they an item?
A few minutes later, Allie texted back. Officially? No. Marc would lose his shit. None of the brothers have laid a hand on Ella. Unofficially? Yeah, they’re both totally sprung. It’s kind of cute.
Devyn found herself smiling, but not out of joy for the secret lovers currently giggling at the latest SNL digital short. She smiled because of the other thing Allie told her: if none of the Dumont brothers had touched Ella-Claire, it meant Ella and Beau hadn’t knocked boots. Devyn shouldn’t mind either way, but there was no denying that her chest felt lighter than it had five minutes ago.
Don’t be a sap, she criticized inwardly. This doesn’t mean anything.
To dial down her excitement a few notches, she forced herself to recall the morning after graduation, when she’d awoken naked and alone in a two-person sleeping bag, hungover and snuggling the school mascot she and Beau had “liberated” the night before from its pen. She’d trusted Beau with her heart, and he’d skipped town without so much as a good-bye. A six-word note had arrived in the mail from boot camp a couple of weeks later, but his half illegible Sorry, Dev, I joined the Marines was no consolation for what she’d suffered.
He’d hurt her once, and he would do it again if she gave him the chance.
Her sister’s words turned over in her head. He’s not that same selfish boy anymore. He’s trying to make amends. And he has faith in you.
Was that true?
Devyn didn’t know. But no matter how hard she tried to push Beau Dumont out of her thoughts, she drifted to sleep dreaming about one of her happiest memories—their first date.
• • •
Instead of defaulting to dinner and a movie, Beau had borrowed his pawpaw’s boat and motored them to his top-secret fishing hole, the one he’d never even shared with his brothers. The fact that he trusted her with something so special made Devyn’s heart flutter, and she couldn’t stop sneaking sideways glances at his full mouth as they dangled their poles in the water. It was a perfect spring evening, the low sun sharpening the angles of Beau’s masculine cheekbones and bringing out the reddish hues in his hair.
He was breathtaking.
“Any nibbles?” he whispered, nodding at her motionless fishing line.
Devyn shook her head. She wanted to talk to him, but the nervous butterflies in her tummy had stolen her voice.
“Soon,” he promised, then winked and nearly made her ovaries explode. “This place is magical. The fish can’t resist me here.”
Devyn couldn’t imagine a living creature resisting Beau in any location, but instead of saying so, she blushed and gazed out at the water.
He was right. Within minutes, she hooked a five-pound catfish. The gleam of admiration in Beau’s eyes made her want to throw it back and catch an even bigger one, but she reeled in the fish and settled against Beau’s chest when he moved behind her.
“Nice catch,” Beau murmured in her ear as he pulled the hook free. “You’re a natural.”
His lips slid into a crooked grin, and just like that, she was done for. He glanced at her mouth for one infinite moment while her heart thumped in anticipation of his next move. Then, right there, with a squirming catfish in hand, Beau kissed her for the first time.
It was remarkably tender—a light brush of lips that lingered, making her feel like the most cherished girl in the bayou. When he pulled back, he smiled down at her and whispered, “Magical.”
She agreed. Something was blooming between them . . . something unearthly. And she loved every minute of it.
Chapter 5
“Come on, cowboy,” Beau muttered to himself. “Keep your hands where I can see ’em.”
Pressing his nose against the one-way glass, Beau squinted across the casino to the high-dollar poker table, where a gambler in his mid-forties and wearing a black Stetson kept dropping one hand into his lap. Anyone with a lick of common sense knew better than to do that, especially the professionals. Beau supposed it was possible the cowboy had a case of jock itch, but he doubted it.
He checked the closed circuit television feed on the monitor affixed to the wall, but the overhead view was no better. For the life of him, he couldn’t tell whether the gambler was innocently digging in his pocket for a stick of gum or swapping out cards. If the guy was cheating, he was as subtle about it as a bullhorn.
Beau checked the floor for Nicky, spotting him making the rounds near the craps table. He called his brother’s cell and watched him answer it.
“Be cool,” Beau said. “But I don’t like what I’m seeing at the high stakes poker table. Check out the guy in the black cowboy hat.”
Nick had worked the casino floor since the day he’d turned twenty-one, so he knew to rotate casually and flick a glance in that direction. He pretended to wave his congratulations to a slot winner while reporting to Beau. “Dark wash jeans, black Laredos, nursing a whisky sour, and a little twitchy?”
Damn, that boy was good. “You got it.”
“Want me to pay him a visit?”
“Yeah, but be friendly.” They needed to proceed with caution. Each passenger had paid a pretty penny for two luxurious, stress-free weeks on board the Belle, and Beau’s first priority was keeping the customers happy and coming back for more. Word of mouth advertising was king, and nothing would turn off a return traveler faster than an insult . . . like a false accusation of cheating. “Bring the table a round of drinks,” he said. “Some complimentary sandwiches, too. That should get you plenty close.”
“I’m on it.”
While Nick put in his order at the bar, Beau watched the overhead feed. He made a mental note to talk with the blackjack dealer about the tipping procedure. He didn’t suspect the woman of anything shady, but once in a while, a gambler would slide over a chip to tip her, and she’d neglect to tap it on the table before dropping it in her shirt pocket. It was standard practice to help Beau identify legitimate money leaving the table, and she should know better. Aside from that, everything looked kosher. There were barely any vacant stools at the gaming tables, and all the slots were occupied.
That was what Beau liked to see.
He noticed Nicky balancing a tray on one arm and making his way to the poker table. With a disarming smile, Nick set a drink in front of each player. If Beau hadn’t been looking for it, he never would have noticed his brother’s gaze dipping into the cowboy’s lap. After handing out a few sandwiches, Nick strode back to the bar and disappeared off camera into the storage area, which meant he would soon be joining Beau in the security room.
The door opened and Nick slid inside with a laugh. “Well, he’s cheating, but not on us.”
“Translation, please?”
Nicky held up his left hand. “Dude’s wearing a wedding band, and he’s sexting his mistress. Or maybe the girl’s just a booty call. I can’t be sure, but he’s certainly looking to hook up with someone named Jill.”
Beau let out a breath, both relieved the guy wasn’t scamming the house and annoyed by the infidelity. Having grown up watching his mama’s heart shatter after each of his daddy’s indiscretions, he had no tolerance for assholes who fooled around. He hated his dad for keeping Mama on the hook all those years, coming around every so often to spend a night or two, staying just long enough to get her hopes up again. Despite popular opinion, breaking up really wasn’t hard to do. If you didn’t want to be with your lover, you should end it before moving on.
Beau glanced out the one-way glass at the cowboy, who’d just glanced into his lap to tap another text. He wanted to give the guy the benefit of the doubt.
“How do you know he’s not sexting with his wife?” he asked.
“Easy,” Nick said. “Because his last message said I’ll meet you in your suite as soon as my wife falls asleep.”
Beau shook his head in contempt. “Dickhead.”
Nicky shrugged and checked his own messages, seemingly unbothered by the stranger’s behavior. Probably because the twins’ mama had wised up and kicked Daddy to the curb shortly after she gave birth. Then she’d married a pharmacist and never looked back. Nick and Alex had escaped the fate of most Dumont boys, winding up with a white picket fence. They didn’t understand how it was for Marc, Beau, and little Jackson—or Worm, as folks called him. The three of them knew the shame of wanting to protect their mothers and falling short. No doubt the new baby that Daddy had sired would learn soon enough, too.
Poor kid.
Beau realized he was clenching his jaw, so he took a deep breath and shook off thoughts of his father. The old man wasn’t worth it.
“Hey,” he said to Nicky. “Take over for me, will you? I’m cutting out for a break.” It was four thirty, and if he hurried, he could catch the end of Devyn’s lesson before the education center closed for the day. Seeing her gorgeous face never failed to cheer him up, and recently she gave him two smiles for every glare—progress.
“You got it, boss.”
On his way out, Beau crossed through the casino and discreetly offered a few of the high rollers free tickets to an offshore excursion in Natchez. Then he left behind the plinking noise of slot payouts and stepped into the blissful silence of the hallway. When he reached the education center, he inched open the door and tiptoed inside.
Devyn had tacked a diagrammed steam engine poster to the wall, and she stood beside it, pointing to the high pressure cylinder. “Exhaust steam comes from here . . .” She trailed off and blew a lock of hair from her eye, then sighed when she noticed two boys playing rock-paper-scissors under the table.
“Can we play Nintendo now?” asked the oldest kid in the group, a blond who crossed his arms and slouched in his chair.
The girl next to him asked, “When’s my mom coming?”
Beau took a knee on the foam tiles beside the table. When Devyn noticed him, she attempted a grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She looked like she needed a hug.
“Can we go outside again?” lisped the youngest boy.
“No, I want to finish explaining how the Belle’s engine works,” Devyn said. “Don’t you think it’s awesome that something as simple as steam can power this big boat?”
The kids provided their answer in the form of silence.
Devyn hooked a thumb at the poster. “After the steam leaves this chamber . . .” She paused again and locked eyes with him, and then something new sparked behind her gaze. Her lips parted in thought for a few moments before she said, “You know what? Forget this. Who likes to blow stuff up?”
Backs straightened and eyebrows rose. Scattered cries of Yeah! and Me! and I do! filled the room while Beau’s stomach dropped an inch. Where was Devyn going with this?
“Blowing up something is called an explosion,” she explained. “Does anyone know what the opposite of ‘explode’ is?”
The slouchy kid said, “Implode.”
“Exactly.” Devyn bent low to m
ake eye contact with her now-attentive class. “Who wants to see me make a Coke can implode using the power of steam?”
Every hand in the room shot up.
“Okay, then.” She pointed to Beau with a grin so infectious it lifted the corners of his own mouth. “Mr. Dumont, would you like to be my assistant?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pushed up from the floor and rubbed his hands together, relieved that she had no plans to ignite the boat. “Just tell me what to do.”
“I saw an electric hot plate in the break room,” Devyn said. “I’ll need that and a pot of cold water. A pair of tongs, too. Oh, and an empty Coke can.”
“Hot plate, tongs, cold water, Coke,” he repeated. “Be right back.”
Ten minutes later, he returned with the supplies and helped Devyn set up her experiment on the table while the kids sat at a safe distance, cross-legged on the floor. She put a small amount of water in the Coke can and set it on the burner to boil, then placed the pot of cold water in the center of the table. When a light mist wafted up from the can, she held a piece of black paper behind it so the kids could see the steam.
“Look,” Devyn said, holding her palm over the can. “It’s just a tiny bit of steam. Not even enough to burn me.”
It was five o’clock, and several parents had filed into the room to pick up their little ones. Beau welcomed them to take a seat beside their kids, and soon Devyn had a captive audience of nearly twenty onlookers.
“Now watch what happens when I turn it upside down in the pot of cold water.” Using the tongs, she clasped the bottom of the Coke can. “The temperature difference is going to create a vacuum and make the can . . .” She leaned forward and raised an expectant brow.
“Implode!” shouted the kids.
“That’s right.” She paused, heightening the anticipation. “Is everyone ready?”
The children nodded.
“Count down with me,” Devyn said. “Three . . . two . . . one!”
She turned the can upside down, and the instant it touched the surface of the water, a loud THWOOP! thundered in the air, making the kids jump. Just like that, the can was decimated, completely crushed as if she’d taken a sledgehammer to it. Devyn held her tongs forward to show everyone.