by Macy Beckett
“And?” Marc prompted.
“Uh,” Beau stammered. “So I talked with Allie. . . .”
Suddenly a new image of Devyn flashed in his mind, not the furious diva who’d threatened his manhood before stomping off the boat, but the wide-eyed beauty blinking up at him in shock. I can’t believe you went to my sister and begged for charity. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?
“Aaaaand?” Marc prompted again.
“Shit,” Beau said, letting his head drop into his hands. For the first time, he saw how clearly he’d missed the mark. He’d gone to Allie with the purest of intentions, but in doing so, he’d taken the power from Devyn and had embarrassed her in the process. Of course she was angry. She had every right to be. “I’m an idiot.”
Marc nodded and said, “Glad I could help you reach that conclusion.” He tapped his cell phone and held it forward to display the red RECORD button. “Can you say that again? I’m sure you’ll give me a reason to replay this soon enough.”
The teasing words flew to the periphery of Beau’s mind. He looked back and forth from the piles of paperwork to Marc. “Think you can handle this? I’ve got to go find her and apologize.”
His brother considered the request for a few silent beats. “You know that private booking we’ve got in a couple weeks?”
“The big wedding?”
“Yeah,” Marc said, pointing at the ledgers. “I’ll run these reports if you’ll pilot the boat during the charter. Allie and I are overdue for some time off.”
For a fleeting moment, it occurred to Beau that trading one night of work for an entire weekend of nonstop responsibility wasn’t a fair shake, but he wasn’t exactly in a position to negotiate. “It’s a deal.”
“Sweet.” Marc rubbed his palms together, then pointed a finger at Beau. “You’re off the hook tonight. Have fun groveling.”
Beau speared his brother with a glare. “Real helpful. I don’t remember giving you this much shit when you mucked it up with Allie. In fact, I called in a bunch of favors to track her down in Vegas.”
“You know I’m just yanking your chain,” Marc said. “Good luck, man. How hard did you screw the pooch?”
Well, he’d wounded Devyn’s pride, so . . . “DEFCON one.”
Marc winced. “Might want to swing by the jeweler’s on your way to Devyn’s place. Richman’s stays open late. Tell them to show you the estate pieces—Allie’s crazy about that stuff.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”
“See you tomorrow,” Marc said, his tone growing serious. “And don’t sweat this. Anyone with eyes can tell Devyn’s crazy about you. Whatever you did, I’m sure the damage isn’t as bad as you think.”
Beau grabbed his phone and wallet, nodding in agreement. He’d worked too hard for a second chance with Devyn to give up now. One way or another, he’d fix this.
Chapter 16
Before Devyn even unlocked the front door, she dropped her duffel bag and used her bare hands to pry the MAUVAISVOODOO.COM sign off the outside wall. Her grunts and swears drew a few curious gazes from the sidewalk, but she didn’t care. With an extra tug, most of the sign tore free, leaving the plastic corners firmly nailed to the siding. That was good enough for her. She marched to the side of the porch and chucked the sign into the recycling bin.
Once she let herself inside, she leaned against the door and stared blankly into the living area, where nothing but the faint drone of the refrigerator greeted her. If she thought the Belle was quiet, that was nothing compared to the void she faced in her own home. The scents of sacred oils and herbs from the dressed candles nearby brought a moment’s relief, but a wave of loneliness soon swept it away.
She missed Beau.
Make no mistake, he still wasn’t forgiven. But she and Allie had stopped for drinks on the long drive home, which had given her time to cool off. She couldn’t forget Allie’s parting words: Go easy on him, okay? He went about it the wrong way, but his heart was in the right place. He’s not happy unless you’re happy. When you think about it, the whole thing is actually kind of sweet.
Devyn disagreed on the last point—there was nothing sweet about humiliation—but honestly, she knew she’d overreacted. And now that she’d had time to think about it, she understood that Beau had touched a nerve. He was right; she didn’t want to lead graveyard tours, and bringing it up had triggered an eruption of negative emotions. But no matter what he said, college wasn’t in the cards for her. The haunted tour was her best option.
Maybe she should call Warren Larabee to ask for a raise. Since she was going to debase herself for a living, she might as well make decent money doing it.
She was halfway to the coffee table to retrieve his business card when a knock sounded from the front porch. Figuring it was Allie, she swiveled on her heel and threw open the door.
But it wasn’t her sister.
Beau held forward a bundle of orange gerbera daisies, her favorite. He wore an apology on his face—written in the creases between his eyes and the downward pull of his mouth. Even his broad shoulders slouched in contrition. He couldn’t have looked more regretful if he’d tried, but he spoke the words anyway. “I’m awful sorry, Dev.”
Just like that, all of Devyn’s residual anger melted. She met him on the porch and stood on tiptoe to wrap both arms around his neck. The crinkle of cellophane warned she was crushing the flowers, but neither of them minded. Beau embraced her with enough force to lift her feet off the planks. He carried her inside the house, then kicked the door shut and held her close, his nose buried deep in her curls as if they’d been apart for a century instead of a few hours.
They clung to each other for a while, until Beau apologized again and told her what an idiot he’d been. Devyn pulled back to look at him, taking his face between her hands.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that.”
He lowered her feet to the floor and tossed the flowers onto the end table. “I can’t believe I went to Allie without talking to you first. Baby, I swear I didn’t—”
“I know.” She held a finger to his lips. “You didn’t mean any harm.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
No, it wasn’t. But Devyn needed to put the scuffle behind them. She couldn’t stand it when she and Beau were at odds. “Let’s forget it, okay? I don’t want to fight.”
“Me neither.” Beau took her by the hand and led her to the sofa, where he settled as close to her as he could get. He kept her hand and pressed it between both of his, peering at her with a new intensity that made her tummy flutter. “I’ve been thinking. . . .”
When he trailed off, she nodded for him to continue.
“About us.” He licked his lips nervously. “About our past, and more important, our future.”
“Okaaay,” she said, drawing out the word because she didn’t know where he was going with this.
“Dev, this is going to sound crazy, but bear with me.” Drawing a deep breath, he reached into his coat pocket and produced a black felt jewelry box. He opened it, and then time stood still. Because nestled in the box was a gleaming platinum ring. And not just any ring. A round diamond solitaire—at least two carats with the chunky facets of an old miner cut. It caught the meager light from the window and sprayed prisms onto Devyn’s lap.
She stared at the ring and stopped breathing. Beau was right; he’d lost his mind.
“I want to get married,” he told her. He must have noticed the lack of movement in her chest, because he squeezed her hand and ordered, “Inhale.”
She filled her lungs, but she couldn’t manage to blink. Her gaze remained fixed on the sparkling stone that had just turned her world upside down. Like the oleander blossom, it was beautiful but dangerous. A commitment like this—and at such an early stage in their relationship—could ruin everything. What was Beau thinking? They’d been together for only a week, and a tumultuous one at that.
“Just hea
r me out.” He set the ring box on the coffee table. When her gaze followed it, he cupped her chin and turned her to face him. His eyes warmed with a sincerity she couldn’t ignore, so she laced their fingers together and gave him the benefit of the doubt.
“I’m listening,” she said.
“Devyn, I love you.” His announcement was firm and clear, so full of certainty that it made her pulse jump. “I didn’t always do a good job of showing it, but I’m not that boy anymore.” He brought their linked hands to his chest, where his heart pounded every bit as fiercely as hers. “We spent a lot of time apart, and in all those years, I never loved anyone but you. I couldn’t hide from my feelings. Every night, it was your face I saw when I closed my eyes. You haunted me.”
Devyn’s bottom lip trembled and her vision went blurry. She had never admitted it, but he’d haunted her, too. She’d spent their decade apart with a steady rotation of filler boyfriends, but none of them could make her forget Beau. No matter how hard she’d tried to exorcise his memory, the image of his crooked smile and the echo of his laughter had lingered like a stain on her soul.
“Do you love me?” he asked.
A tear spilled free when she nodded, her voice a wet whisper. “Yes.”
He smiled as if he’d glimpsed heaven. “I want to hear it.”
She cleared the thickness from her throat. “I love you, Beau. That’s not the problem. I never stopped.”
“Then marry me.” In one brisk motion, he dropped to one knee. His grasp on her hand was warm and strong, full of promise. “I already know you’re the one I want. If you feel the same way, then why should we wait? Let’s start our life together, right now.”
“Right now?” A sudden dizziness swirled at her temples. She’d barely walked in the front door—hadn’t even changed out of her costume—and Beau was proposing that they elope?
“Well, not right now,” he corrected with a laugh. “We’ll have to get a marriage license, and then I imagine there’s a few days’ waiting period, but still . . .”
A sobering thought occurred to Devyn. She’d seen this same light in Beau’s eyes after graduation, when they’d planned their future together and sealed it with a night of wild lovemaking. She’d believed him then, and his change of heart had come with no warning—an abrupt shift that had knocked the wind out of her for years to come. She couldn’t let that happen again. It would kill her.
“Maybe we should slow down,” she said. “I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and regret anything. If we’re right for each other, there’s no reason to—”
He cut her off with a soft kiss. When he broke away, he delivered a sober look that said he understood her fears. “I won’t run away again, Dev. I’m not a naïve kid who’s excited about playing house with his girlfriend. I’m a grown man who wants you for my life partner.” He squeezed her hand tightly. “The curse won’t stop me this time, because I have all the faith in the world that we’re meant to be.”
Devyn hesitated. She wanted to trust him, and yet . . .
“Baby, I give you my word,” he said. “I’ll never leave. I’d sooner cut off my right arm than hurt you.”
“I don’t know.” She glanced at the glittering diamond tucked into its velvet bed and then back to Beau, searching for something she couldn’t name.
He placed her palm above his heart. “If there’s one perfect truth in this world, it’s that we were made for each other. Let me show you. Please marry me.”
Devyn’s blood chilled with doubt, but she couldn’t say no. She wanted to believe him more than she wanted the sun to rise. Extending her left hand, she told him, “All right. I’ll marry you.”
“Really?” His face broke into a smile of sheer joy, and in the span of a few heartbeats, he had the ring on her finger. The platinum felt surprisingly cold and heavy, but Devyn told herself she’d get used to it. “I’m going to make you so happy,” he promised. “Starting right now.”
Before she had a chance to ask how long he could stay, he delivered a slow, drugging kiss that had her skin flushing with fever. Still kneeling, he parted her thighs and situated himself in between, then his fingers went to work on the corset laces of her bodice.
She broke from the kiss and helped him out of his jacket. “What about your paperwork?”
“Forget it,” he said, admiring the line of cleavage displayed beneath the first loose stays. “I’m yours for the whole night.” Then he bent to her ear, whispering, “And every night after that for the rest of my life.”
Or at least until he gets bored with me.
No! Devyn clenched her eyes shut, silencing her inner skeptic. Beau loved her, and he had purest faith. That was enough to break the hex. “I like the sound of that,” she told him, and bent her neck to welcome the hot slide of his mouth.
“Mmm,” he agreed while biting her shoulder. “Me, too.”
In seconds, the sultry rush of sensations made it impossible to think about anything but pleasure. When using his teeth proved too slow, Beau attacked the rest of her laces with his fingers until he had her exposed.
Groaning in appreciation, he kneaded one breast with his palm while drawing her opposite nipple into his mouth. Devyn barely had time to tip back her head before his hand disappeared beneath her dress and skimmed the inside of her thigh. She opened for him, and he stroked her into a panting, moaning frenzy.
Still kneeling, he shucked her panties to the floor and unzipped his fly. “Sorry, hon,” he said while he tugged her to the edge of the sofa cushion. “We’ll take it slow the next round.”
Devyn didn’t mind; she was more than ready for him. She spread herself wide and fisted the fabric at her sides while Beau slid gently to the hilt. Then something shifted in his gaze, and he slammed into her with fury. He made love to her hard and fast, until they came together in violent spasms of release.
As promised, the next round lasted for hours. He carried her upstairs and undressed them both before laying her on the bed and cherishing her body with his mouth. Sometime after midnight, Beau held her close and rested her newly adorned left hand over his chest. Devyn watched the diamond glimmer with the rhythmic rise and fall of his rib cage. Beautiful and dangerous, like white oleander. When her eyelids grew heavy and drifted shut, she promised herself that nothing was wrong.
• • •
Devyn knew she was dreaming because her mama sat on the edge of the mattress and smoothed the hair back from her forehead. The only time she saw her mother was in dreams, and she cherished each fleeting moment, even if it was nothing but a subconscious fantasy.
“Time to get up, baby,” Mama said, her amber-colored eyes smiling beneath the dark riot of curls she’d never been able to tame. “You overslept.”
Devyn pushed to her elbows and glanced at the bedside alarm clock, but it was missing. Her entire bedroom had undergone a snowy transformation, furnished with whitewashed pine and decorated in white linen. Even the walls were painted stark white. The room looked vacant and sterile, nothing like her style.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Almost eight.” Mama stood and backed toward the door, beckoning for Devyn to follow. “The school bus will be here in five minutes, and you haven’t packed anyone’s lunch.”
In an instant flood of realization, Devyn remembered that she had four children. Her pulse hitched, and she threw back the covers, then grabbed her bathrobe and rushed downstairs to the kitchen.
Four lunch boxes rested on the counter beside an industrial-sized tub of Skippy and a loaf of bread. Devyn flew into action, spreading peanut butter over the first slice, but the bread tore with each sweep of the butter knife. She grabbed another slice, but no matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t make a single sandwich.
“Hurry,” Mama urged. “We don’t have much time.”
Devyn sensed her children scurrying behind her in the kitchen. She couldn’t see their faces, but their rapid-fire cries filled the room.
“I can’t find my backpa
ck!”
“Did you see my planner?”
“I need help double-knotting my shoes!”
“Where’s my library book?”
Devyn’s heart thumped in panic. She couldn’t worry about any of that until she knew her children would be fed. She ran to the pantry, finding it empty. Why didn’t they have any food?
“You’ll have to buy your lunches at school,” she told them.
“They can’t,” Mama said. “Their accounts are overdrawn, don’t you remember?”
Suddenly, Devyn recalled the overdue notice that had come in yesterday’s mail. She owed the cafeteria fifty dollars, and she didn’t have the money to pay the charges. From somewhere outside, a bus honked its horn, and chaos erupted in the kitchen as the children pleaded with her to finish their sandwiches.
In desperation, Devyn looked around. “Where’s Beau?” she asked her mother. “Why isn’t he helping me?”
Mama tipped her head in sympathy, her mouth pulling into a frown. “Oh, honey.” She pointed at the refrigerator, where a note was taped beside a rainbow finger painting. “He left that for you.”
As if moving underwater, Devyn struggled to reach the note. When she pulled it free, it was identical to the letter he’d sent after graduation. Sorry, Dev. I joined the Marines.
“No,” she whispered. “He promised he’d never leave.”
Mama rested a hand on her shoulder, though it brought no comfort. “I’m sure he meant it at the time. But things change, baby. People change. Nothing lasts forever.”
An ache opened up inside Devyn’s chest, quickly turning into a vacuum of suffering unlike anything she’d ever known. Tears flooded her vision, and she doubled over while sobs racked her body. She never imagined she could hurt this badly. She cried and cried, but the grief never ceased. Because deep down, she knew Beau wasn’t coming back this time—and that she’d never be whole again.
