Easy Magic

by Kristen Proby

  I can do this. I take a deep breath in relief.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Great,” I reply with what I hope is a sincere smile.

  “We’re going to have to talk about those more personal things sooner rather than later,” he says, reminding me of our conversation in the restaurant. “Come on. There’s electricity in there, so we won’t be fumbling around in the dark.”

  “Well, that’s a relief because I’m not terribly fond of fumbling,” I reply, making him laugh as he leads me to the front door. “When will it be finished?”

  “It was supposed to be done three months ago,” he replies. “So, your guess is as good as mine. But I’m okay at the flat in the Quarter until it’s done. I want it to be just right.”

  I walk inside, still prepared to protect myself from anything, or anyone, who might still be here, as I reach out with my mind, probing the darkness, but I’m pleasantly surprised to feel…nothing. Just cool calm, just like when Beau touches me.

  I’m safe here.

  Beau turns on the lights in each room as we wander through. The walls have drywall already, so it has the shape of a house. There’s no paint or flooring, but the kitchen cabinets are in.

  “There are four bedroom suites,” he says as he leads me further into the kitchen, still turning on all the lights. “The master bedroom suite is on the main floor, and all of the other bedrooms are upstairs. Compared to the rest of the neighborhood, it’s not very big at only four thousand square feet.”

  “That’s a lot of square feet for one person,” I comment and rub my hand over the smooth quartz countertop. My tiny fifteen hundred square feet would feel microscopic to him. “This feels nice.”

  He’s studying me.

  “What?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. What I love about this room is that it’s open to the living space and the dining room.”

  “It’s going to be lovely,” I reply, glancing about.

  “Just through here is an office, so I can work from home on occasion.”

  “Is this a wine cellar?” I ask, stunned as we walk out of the kitchen and past a glass door, with floor to ceiling shelves for wine bottles.

  “It is,” he says with a grin. He’s almost boyish in his excitement for this house, and for the first time, I wish I could read him, just for a moment.

  “You love it here,” I say instead, and watch his face as he seems to look a bit embarrassed. He simply nods.

  “I do.” He takes my hand and squeezes it tightly. “I’ve always lived in homes that have been owned by my family for generations, or that our company has bought. But this one is mine. Not a Boudreaux palace. Not owned by the company. Mine.”

  “Good for you,” I say with a big smile. “That’s wonderful.”

  We pass by a smaller room on our way to the grand staircase, and I pause.

  “What’s in there?”

  “Nothing right now,” he says and obliges me as I wander inside, turning on the light for me. It’s an oddly shaped room, like a triangle, with a small window.

  And the energy in it is amazing.

  “Oh, this is great.” I turn to him. “What are you going to use this for?”

  “Well, it’s such an odd shape, I was just going to use it for storage.”

  “That’s a shame,” I reply, and let his hand fall as I pace the room. “The energy in here is just wonderful.”

  He cocks a brow, and I continue.

  “It’s a happy place. It should be a small library or just a reading nook. Or maybe a place to paint.”

  “Are you an artist?” he asks.

  “Not in the least. But this room is truly special. Please don’t just use it for storage.”

  I turn to look at him and he’s leaning against the door jamb, watching me with lust written all over his face.

  I don’t have to be psychic to see it.

  He wants me.

  He slowly pushes away from the door and moves toward me, his shoulders broad in the white button down shirt, his arms hard where the shirt is rolled to his elbows. His jaw tightens as he gets closer, towering over me because he’s so damn tall, but I’m not afraid of him in the least.

  He doesn’t say a word as he lifts his hand to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing under my eye. I wrap my hand around his wrist and lean into his touch, soaking up his warmth. God, I’ve missed being touched.

  Being touched by Beau is like being touched for the first time in my life, and I never want him to stop.

  He lowers his lips to mine, brushes them lightly, nibbles the corner, and then sinks in for the kiss of my life. He gently urges my mouth open, and licks my lips, and devours me His hand dives into my hair, and the wall is suddenly at my back as he continues to explore me in ways I didn’t even know existed.

  He braces his free hand on the wall above my head, and I fist my hands in his shirt at his sides, holding on for dear life.

  Finally, he pulls back, breathing hard, his eyes bright and dilated.

  And in this moment, I know. His touch is safe. I can trust it. Him. I’m not bombarded with someone else’s emotions, and I am free to simply feel my own while being intimate with him.

  “So that’s what all the hoopla’s about.”

  He smirks, and I realize I spoke aloud again, but I’m not embarrassed. Not in the least.

  He takes a deep breath and drags his knuckles down my cheek.

  “I want to keep you here all night,” he murmurs before kissing my forehead. “So I’d better take you home.”

  I smile. He could talk me into staying. But he’s not. And I’ll be damned if that doesn’t make me like him even more.

  ***

  After the busy summer season is over, I close the shop on Mondays. Today is my first Monday off for the off-season, and I’m already bored out of my mind.

  Not that I don’t have a shit ton to do. There’s laundry and dishes and toilets to scrub, which I hate. Garbage to take out. Basically, all of the things that get overlooked during the work week need to be caught up on.

  So, of course I’m sitting on my ass, watching the shows on my DVR.

  My phone rings, and without looking at it I know it’s Lena.

  “Did you watch Sister Wives last week?” I ask as a greeting.

  “Do witches dance naked under the harvest moon? Of course I did.” She chuckles. “I’m on my lunch break. Tell me about last night.”

  “No.”

  “Did you like his house?”

  I frown and pull my phone away from my ear so I can glare at it before replying. “How did you know he took me to his house?”

  “Hi, my name is Lena, and I’m psychic.”

  “Well, get your psychic ass out of my head.”

  “I didn’t tell you yesterday when I saw it in the cards,” she replies, as if that makes it all okay. “Did you like it?”

  “It’s a great house,” I say. “And he’s a great guy. And he kissed me, and holy fuck, Lena, I’m pretty sure there were actual fireworks going off, right there in the room with us.”

  “It was only a kiss?” she asks, disappointment heavy in her voice.

  “It was a pretty hot kiss.”

  “Okay, well, that’s good. When are you going to see him again?”

  “He didn’t ask me out again,” I reply. “It was late. I’m sure I’ll hear from him soon.”

  “But you don’t know because he didn’t say and you can’t read him.”

  “I like not being able to read him. I don’t have to keep my shields up with him. I can just be a normal woman.”

  “I’m glad, Mal. Really. I’m so happy for you. It’s about time something like this happened for you.”

  I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Are you having a good day?”

  “It’s Monday,” she says with a sigh. “But I’ll muddle my way through it. Dinner Wednesday night?”

  “Just like every Wednesday night,” I agree. “Text me later.”

  “Okay.
Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Just as I hang up, my phone dings with an incoming email. I open it and frown when I don’t recognize the sender.

  Ms. Adams,

  I need your help. My name is Lieutenant Williams, and I’m with the New York Police Department.. I used to work with your grandmother—

  I stop reading immediately, delete the email, and stand, turning off the TV. Hell no. I don’t do that, and I won’t do that. Ever.

  I need some air, so I grab my keys and handbag and leave the house, driving toward the Quarter. I don’t need or want to go to the shop; I don’t want to seem like I’m trying to get a glimpse of Beau. I agree with him; this isn’t a game, and I’m no teenager. No stalking tendencies here.

  But I’d really like to talk to a friend. Preferably one who knows Beau.

  So I go to Head Over Heels, Beau’s sister Charly’s shoe shop.

  Because it’s a Monday, the shop is quiet when I walk in. I’m not even sure if she’ll be here today. But Charly herself rushes out from the back with a smile on her pretty face.

  “Hey, darlin’,” she says. “What brings you in?”

  “You,” I reply honestly. “I was hoping we could chat.”

  “That would be fantastic. You’re saving me from dealing with inventory.” She wrinkles her nose. “I hate that shit.”

  “Me too.”

  “It’s Monday, so it’s slow. What’s on your mind?”

  I bite my lip, not sure how much, or how little, to tell her.

  About all of it.

  “You can trust me, you know.”

  And as I look into eyes the same color and shape as her eldest brother’s, I know that I can trust her.

  “I really like your brother.”

  “I have three of them, sugar,” she says with a smile.

  “Beau.”

  “Ah.” She nods and leans on the counter. “Keep going.”

  And so I spill it all, the broken pipe in my shop, Beau helping me with the mess, and then asking me out. Dinner. His house.

  The amazing kiss.

  “And I am freaked out because I can’t read him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I sigh. Might as well spill it all. “I’m psychic, Charly. I can see the deceased, I can feel other people’s emotions when they touch me. I can read minds. But that’s all gone with Beau.”

  “Wait.” Charly holds up her hand, stopping me. “You see dead people?”

  I close my eyes, hoping I don’t regret this conversation. “Yes.”

  “And read minds.”

  “Yes.”

  “But not Beau’s.”

  “No. All I feel is this beautiful stillness. I’m at ease with him.”

  “Well, I think that’s quite lovely,” she says.

  “It is.” I nod. “But what about when he finds out what I am?”

  “What about it?”

  “I’m afraid that he’ll run for the hills. They always do.”

  And yet, I just spilled my guts to Charly, and she doesn’t look freaked out in the least. Of course, that doesn’t mean that she’s not freaked out.

  Charly is quiet for a moment, and then she walks around the counter and stuns me when she wraps me up in a big hug. It’s full of affection and friendship. Happiness. She’s happy for both me and her brother.

  He needs you in his life.

  I immediately mentally pull back, not wanting to intrude on her thoughts. When she pulls away, she keeps my hand in hers.

  “First of all, you should give Beau some credit. He’s not rash, and he’s not stupid.”

  “Certainly not.”

  “And second of all, you’ve been out on one date. There’s no need to tell him this right now, especially since you can’t use your abilities on him. You’re just a woman when you’re with Beau, so I say you enjoy that, and tell him in your own time, in your own way.”

  “He’ll think it’s bullshit.”

  “Well, I will admit that Beau is a practical man. You need to be prepared for him to not believe in the paranormal.”

  “As long as he doesn’t think I’m nuts, we’ll be fine.”

  “I think you should get to know each other better. If it doesn’t go anywhere, there’s no need to tell him. But if you think there’s a future with him, then you should talk with him.”

  “You’re a smart woman,” I say with a smile. “I’m so glad I came.”

  “Me too. Just don’t tell Gabby that you’re psychic. She’ll ask you to come do a séance at her inn.”

  I cringe. Yep, I’m just a parlor trick.

  “There’s a ghost there,” Charly continues. “We all have bets on who it is.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “So, you do believe in it?”

  “Scares the holy hell out of me,” she says with a shiver. “But yes, there’s something out there. Too many unexplained things happen to think otherwise.”

  Interesting.

  “I haven’t done a séance since I was a kid.” I tap my finger over my lips, considering it.

  Charly grins. “But you have done them?”

  “Honey, I don’t need a séance to talk to the dead. But yes, I’ve done them. And you know what? It might be fun.”

  Who in the hell am I right now? I haven’t voluntarily offered to use my gifts for anyone in over a decade.

  But I like Charly and her family. She doesn’t think I’m nuts.

  And it really could be fun.

  “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Five

  ~Beau~

  “I sent her flowers,” I tell Charly over lunch. It’s been several days since I last saw Mallory.

  I don’t like it a bit.

  “What kind?” she asks.

  “Ranunculus.”

  My sister looks quite surprised as she takes a sip of her sweet tea and wipes the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Aren’t you just the botanist?”

  “I like flowers,” I reply with a shrug. It’s true, I do. I plan to have a garden at the new house.

  “Do the guys know?”

  Charly always has been the smart ass of the family.

  “I’m trusting that you won’t tell them,” I reply. “I know some things about you that you’d rather didn’t get announced to the family.”

  She just smirks. She’s not afraid of me in the least.

  “How’s Simon?” Simon is Charly’s fiancé.

  “He’s great.” She shifts in her chair. “He’s doing some seminars in London this week.”

  “It’s not easy to be with someone who travels so much.”

  “No.” She shrugs and tucks her hair behind her hair. “It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. I have to go to Miami late next week myself to check on the shop there.”

  “I trust that’s going well?”

  “It’s fantastic, and my team does a great job there.”

  Charly opened a Miami branch of Head Over Heels earlier this year.

  “I hope you don’t plan to move there.”

  “No. I just like to drop in once in a while, to make sure things are running smoothly.”

  “Will Simon go with you?”

  “I’m meeting him there.”

  I sit back and watch my sister for a moment. I like Simon well enough, but this is my little sister we’re talking about. She seems happy, and she says all the right things.

  “Stop that,” she says and glares at me.

  “What?”

  “Stop overthinking my life. I’m great, and that isn’t a lie.”

  “You look tired,” I say quietly.

  “I don’t sleep well when he’s not here,” she admits and takes another sip of her tea. “It’s crazy how you can sleep alone for the better part of three decades, and then you’re with someone for less than a year, and that’s all shot to hell.”

  “Melatonin is good for insomnia.”

  She cocks a brow. “Are you a naturopath now as well as a botanist?”

  “You’re
a pain in my ass,” I reply with a smile. “It’s amazing we’ve kept you around all these years.”

  “I’m the most charming Boudreaux there is, sugar. What would y’all do without me?”

  “It would be a boring life, indeed. I’m glad that you’ve found someone who makes you happy.”

  “I am too,” she says and studies me for a moment, as though she’s trying to decide what to say next.

  Which is so not Charly.

  “Say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “You don’t have a poker face, darlin’.” I wink at her and laugh when she narrows her eyes at me. “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, I talked with Mallory the other day,” she says, surprising me. I know that they’re friends, and I don’t know why it surprises me and even makes me a little uncomfortable. I’ve never had this response to a woman before.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. She likes you.”

  I grin. “Oh, good. I was afraid that she’d tell you during study hall that she was going to pass me a note and break up with me.”

  “You’re a smart ass.”

  “Seems to run in the family.”

  She examines her perfect manicure for a moment, long enough for me to want to fidget in my chair. I’ve been in meetings with people far more formidable than my little sister, but just the mention of Mallory’s name has me on edge.

  I’m not sure I’m okay with that.

  “I like her too,” Charly says softly. “She’s my friend. She’s Kate and Van’s friend, too.”

  “Okay. I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

  “I’m going to spell it out for you.”

  “Great.”

  She sighs and leans in, her elbows braced on the table. “She likes you, Beau. And she has baggage that she hasn’t told you about yet.”

  “She’s told you?”

  “Some of it. Not all of it. Confiding in the person you’re attracted to is hard. There’s always the chance of rejection, and it’s hard to be vulnerable with someone.”

  “Charly—”

  “No, let me finish. Mal is special. There are things about her that she’ll have to tell you, when she’s ready.”

  “I can already see that,” I reply. “I’ve been with her, and there are times that she seems afraid of being touched. I asked her if she was hurt in the same way that Van was, and she said no.”