Easy Magic

by Kristen Proby

  “I can see why this is your happy place.”

  “And you just got here,” he replies with a smile and crosses to me, pulling me into his arms. “Thank you for coming with me.”

  “Oh, I’m the one who should be thanking you,” I reply and hug him tightly. I love how small I feel in his arms. He’s a big man, tall, with broad shoulders.

  I feel safe here. In this place, and with this man. I let my guard down, cautiously and a little at a time. There are spirits here. Two. No, three.

  “What do you feel?” he asks quietly, as if he knows what I’m doing.

  “I feel a few spirits here,” I whisper. “But I don’t sense that any of them are malicious. They’re attached to the house, not a person.”

  “Do spirits attach themselves to people?” he asks with surprise, as if he’s truly beginning to believe in what I do.

  “Oh, yes,” I reply. “And that’s not always bad either. But it can be.”

  “Interesting.”

  I nod and lean against the railing again, breathing in the salty sea air. The palm trees around the home are moving with the light breeze, and I can see the white caps of the waves in the moonlight.

  I glance back at Beau, and am surprised to see a woman standing behind him.

  “Hello,” I say cautiously. She’s not living. She’s short, and as round as she is tall, it seems. She’s dressed in a maid’s uniform, with a white apron tied around her ample waist. Her mocha skin is soft and lovely, her black hair pulled up under a white hat.

  Beau spins and looks in the direction I’m looking, but can’t see her.

  “Who’s here?” he asks.

  “I’m Liselle,” she says softly.

  “Liselle.”

  His brows climb into his hairline, and he’s blinking rapidly, like he’s seen, well, a ghost.

  “I’d like her to leave.”

  Chapter Twelve

  ~Beau~

  Mallory’s eyes widen, and then she frowns. “She doesn’t want to hurt you in any way.”

  No, she wouldn’t. I shake my head and rub my fingers over my mouth, not sure how much to tell her. I trust her, implicitly, but I’m not used to feeling vulnerable.

  And this is one of the things I feel most vulnerable about in my life. It certainly ranks in the top five.

  “I can ask her to go,” Mallory says and reaches out to touch my arm, gently rubbing my bicep. She says I calm her, and I believe her, because I’ve seen it. But she’s come to calm me just as much. Her eyes are on me, not on the spirit standing behind me.

  And the fact that I just thought that sentence surprises the hell out of me. A month ago I would have scoffed and brushed off the thought. But now, being with this woman, it feels almost normal.

  “Beau?”

  “Liselle was our housekeeper here when I was a little boy. It was only me, Charly, and Eli then. The twins and Gabby hadn’t been born yet.

  “I loved her,” I whisper and then shake my head, surprised that a memory from so damn long ago could shake me. “She was sweet and fun, and she loved to snuggle us while she read to us before our afternoon nap.”

  Mallory smiles and says, “Curious George was your favorite.”

  Jesus.

  “I’d forgotten that,” I reply and turn, but still can’t see her. “She died here, in this house, while she was reading to us. Charly and Eli were still too little to know what was happening, and so was I, really, but I was old enough to know that something was wrong.”

  “Oh, you poor baby,” Mal says and immediately walks into my arms, hugging me around my middle.

  “Heart attack,” I say, surprised to feel emotions that I’d long forgotten course through me. “My dad told me many years later that she’d had a heart attack that killed her instantly.”

  “That must have been traumatic,” Mal says.

  “My mama had me in therapy for a couple of years,” I confirm. “I kept asking for her, and didn’t understand why she wasn’t coming back.”

  “That’s an awfully young age to learn about death.”

  “Indeed. I hope Liselle isn’t suffering.”

  Mal pulls out of my arms and looks to my left, then smiles softly.

  “She says she’s not suffering, but that she’s waiting to move on because she wanted to apologize to you, and tell you that she loved you.”

  I nod and feel my throat close up with the flood of emotion that’s suddenly sitting on my chest.

  “She has nothing to apologize for. She didn’t do anything wrong. She should move on and be happy.”

  And then, just like that, my chest is light again, and Mallory takes a deep breath and glances about, then smiles up at me. “She’s gone.”

  “Good.” I take Mal’s hand in mine and lead her into the bedroom, leaving the French doors open so the salty sea air can drift inside. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m actually just fine,” she replies with a smile. “Almost energized.”

  “Really?”

  “Mm hmm,” she says and begins unbuttoning my shirt, her fingers moving slowly but surely down my torso until she reaches my pants. “You made some promises earlier.”

  “Promises? I don’t remember making any promises.”

  I love it when she gets flirty.

  “There was some strong flirty language,” she says and pops the button on my fly, then lets my pants pool around my ankles.

  “That’s a promise?”

  “Oh yeah.” She takes my already throbbing cock in her fist and pulls up, then down, firmly gripping me. The breath hisses through my teeth as I sink my fingers in her hair, careful not to force her to me, but needing something to grab onto. “I’m fond of this.”

  “So glad you approve,” I mutter, then let my head fall back as she licks me, from balls to tip, then wraps those fucking sexy lips around me and proceeds to give me the best blowjob of my goddamn life.

  “Jesus, Mallory.”

  “Hmm,” she purrs, and it’s almost enough to make me explode. Her hands, working me over firmly, and that mouth wrapped around me is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  But I want this to last.

  So I grip her by the shoulders and bring her to her feet, spin us around, and guide her down to the bed.

  “I wasn’t done,” she says with a pout.

  “Unless you want this to be over before it really starts, I had to stop you, sugar.” I pull her skirt up around her waist and just about swallow my tongue when I see that she’s not wearing panties.

  “I ditched them earlier,” she says with a sassy smile, as if she can read my mind. “What with you making promises and all.”

  Her sassiness both delights me and makes me want to slow things down a bit, draw it out longer.

  Make her writhe in pleasure.

  So rather than plunge inside her and have my way with her the way I want to, I kiss her exposed navel, then bite the soft, slightly rounded flesh beneath it. Mallory isn’t stick thin, and I prefer her this way.

  She wears her curves like most women would wear a fancy gown, proudly and confidently, and it’s fucking sexy as hell.

  She’s comfortable in her skin, which makes me comfortable too.

  I can’t stop touching her, dragging my fingertips up and down her sides, over her hips, and to that smooth apex of skin just above the promised land.

  “You’re so damn good with your hands,” she moans and bites her lip as she grips onto the quilt on the bed to anchor herself.

  I’d much prefer she grab onto me.

  Slipping my fingers through her slick lips, I bury my face in her neck and kiss her, then bite the sensitive skin just below her ear.

  “Shit,” she whispers, then contracts tightly around my fingers, almost making me lose control.

  I want to fuck her. Hard.

  “Please,” she pleads, raising her hips off the bed.

  “Please what?”

  “Inside me.” She grips my cock, and I can’t hold back any longer. I let her
guide me to her, and slip just the head inside.

  “Look at me.”

  She opens her violet eyes and watches me avidly as I sink balls deep and brush a lock of hair off her cheek.

  “You’re beautiful, Mallory.”

  She bites her lip again, unable to reply as I begin to move in a long, slow rhythm, taking us both on the ride of our lives.

  “And this? This moment, this woman. All of this is mine.”

  Her eyes widen in surprise, and then she cups my face sweetly in her hands.

  “It’s ours,” she says with a smile and tightens around me, almost making my eyes fucking cross.

  “Yes, baby, it’s ours.”

  ***

  “The Hemingway house was fantastic,” Mallory says the next afternoon as we sit on lounge chairs under a cabana, lazily watching the water. “I had no idea there were so many cats.”

  “He was the original crazy cat lady.”

  She smiles over at me and my heart catches.

  “I don’t think they were all his. They’ve reproduced quite a lot since his day.”

  “True.” I reach over and take her hand in mine, kiss her knuckles the way I always do, then rest our hands on my thigh. She’s enthralled with watching the water, and I’m enthralled with watching her. She’s in a black two-piece suit, a matching cover thing, and her hair is in a ponytail, high on her head.

  She looks young and vibrant and happy.

  And fuck me, she makes me so happy I hardly recognize the feeling.

  Because I’ve never felt it before. I’ve always been dedicated to my family and my business, and women were a fun distraction from time to time.

  And now I can’t imagine my life without her in it.

  I’m love with her.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” she asks.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re not quite sure what to do with me.”

  I snicker and gather my wits about me. “I’m not quite sure what to do with you.”

  “Oh, you knew exactly what to do with me last night.”

  Her smile is sexy and fun, exactly like last night. It was fun and sexy.

  “True. But I was just wondering if I should feed you.”

  She tips her head to the side. “I could eat. The sea air makes me hungry.”

  “We have water in New Orleans.”

  “It’s the river,” she says with a shrug. “It smells, looks, sounds different. Although, you’re right. I’m always hungry at home too. As you can see.” She holds her hands out to the side, gesturing to her curves, and then laughs.

  “You look perfect to me,” I reply honestly.

  “Well, good,” she says. “Let’s go in and eat.”

  “I could run in and put something together, then bring it back out here.”

  She thinks it over, then stands and holds her hand out for mine.

  “I’d like to go in out of the heat for a bit.”

  She pulls me out of my seat and we walk inside, sighing in delight when we hit the air-conditioned house. The air here by the ocean isn’t as hot as if we were away from the water, but it’s still warm.

  “What should I make us?” she asks and opens the fridge, staring inside. I grip her waist and pull her away from the appliance, boost her onto a stool at the island, and shake my head.

  “You can sit there and look beautiful while I throw something together.”

  “You can cook?”

  “Of course I can cook.”

  “Do you like to cook?”

  “Good question,” I reply with a chuckle. “I guess they’re two different things. I don’t mind it. My mama made sure that we all knew how to cook.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t have people to do that for you.”

  She plucks a grape from the bowl I just set on the counter and takes a bite, then holds the other half of it out to me.

  “Mom and Dad were pretty traditional,” I reply and pull out the fixings for grilled cheese with ham and tomato sandwiches. “We did have a housekeeper who came twice a week to spruce the place up. I mean, there were six kids, and Mom is no glutton for punishment.”

  “Good plan,” Mallory replies. “Hell, I have a girl who comes in once a month just to deep clean for me, and I’m only one person.”

  “Exactly. But they gave us all chores to do, and Mama had us help with the cooking all the time. So, all of us can cook. Not all of us love it.”

  “Gotcha,” she says with a wink. “I think that’s a great way to raise kids. It ensures that you’re not all spoiled brats who can’t live in the real world.”

  “Well, Gabby was pretty spoiled because she was the baby, but she’s not a brat, and she can definitely live in the real world. She had her son at nineteen years old.”

  “Wow,” she replies, not with censure or judgment. “That must have been rough.”

  “She had us,” I say and set the sandwiches in the pan to grill up. “And Sam is amazing. And then she met Rhys, and he is a good father.”

  “That’s wonderful. I didn’t meet Rhys or the little ones when we were at the inn, but Gabby is a really great woman. I like her very much.”

  “I’m glad.” I grin and flip the sandwiches. “She and I were always the closest. Not that I don’t love all of my siblings, and surprisingly we all get along very well, but Gabby and I have a special bond. Until she married Rhys, I lived on the inn property so I could look over everything.”

  “I love that,” she says with a sweet smile. “It sounds a lot like Lena and me. We don’t live far from each other.”

  “Have you always known each other?”

  “Yes. Our grandmothers were best friends when they were small too, and stayed friends their whole lives. So Lena and I grew up almost like sisters. And because of what we can do, there were many times that we were each other’s only friend. She’s a great person.”

  “I like her,” I reply honestly. “I like that she’s so loyal to you, and she’s pretty funny.”

  “No one like her,” Mal agrees with a laugh. “And this looks delicious. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” I reply and stand on the other side of the island while we eat. She’s leaning on her elbows, casually eating, and my hips are leaning against the countertop.

  We can’t take our eyes off each other.

  “So you bring up an interesting topic,” I begin and reach for a dill pickle, then pop it in my mouth.

  “Okay.”

  “What are your thoughts on children?”

  She stops chewing and stares at me for a moment, then sets her sandwich down and wipes her fingers on her napkin.

  “In what context?”

  “As in, do you want to have children one day?”

  She sighs and also reaches for a pickle. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

  “What are your concerns?”

  “Are we really having this conversation?”

  I just smirk and raise a brow, waiting for her to continue.

  “I have genetic paranormal abilities,” she says slowly, not looking me in the eyes anymore. “That concerns me because it’s not something easy to be saddled with.”

  “I can see that,” I reply, trying to keep the light tone to our conversation. “What if that wasn’t a factor?”

  “It’s always going to be a factor.”

  “Humor me.”

  She shrugs and takes a bite. “If it wasn’t a factor, I would say yes. I want kids. Not six,” she says with a smile. “But a couple. You?”

  “I like kids,” I reply honestly, also surprised that I brought it up, but finding myself wanting to know everything about her, and I love her. I don’t see myself without her. “Kate is about to have a baby, and Gabby has two already. I’d like to have some of my own.”

  She smiles and rests her chin in her hand.

  “What?”

  “You’re cute,” she says.

  Bullshit.

  “No, I’m not cute.”

 
“You are when you talk about having kids,” she says and then laughs when I glare at her. “You get this sweet, excited look in your eyes. It’s cute.”

  “Say that again, and I’ll bend you over that counter and show you how very not cute I am, sugar.”

  She just shrugs without concern and takes another bite of her lunch.

  “You don’t scare me. I think it’s awesome that the idea of having children makes you happy. I’m sure that whomever is lucky enough to give them to you will love it too.”

  She stands to set her empty plate in the sink, washes her hands, then turns back to me with a forced smile.

  Shit.

  “Did I just upset you?”

  “I don’t know why you would,” she stutters, and I know it’s a lie.

  “We agreed at the start that this isn’t a game, Mallory. No lies.”

  She sighs and rubs her temple. “That was a stupid thing to agree to.”

  “No, I don’t think it was.” I stay where I am, not touching her, just watching her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Really, nothing’s wrong.”

  “Something is bothering you.”

  “Okay, here’s the truth: I don’t want to tell you.”

  I nod and cross to her now, nudging her face up with my finger under her chin. “That’s better. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’ll be just fine,” she says and smiles in earnest now. “Shall we go back outside and watch the water until the sunset?”

  “Is that what you’d like to do?”

  She nods happily.

  “Then sit by the water for the rest of the day it is, sugar.”

  We grab fresh bottles of water and walk out to our seats under the cabana. The wind has rustled our towels, so we take a moment to straighten everything out and then relax, watching a school of dolphins play not far offshore.

  “I can see why you love to come here,” she says softly. “I would be here all the time.”

  “We can come whenever you like,” I reply, not missing the fleeting frown that crosses her beautiful face. I wish she’d talk to me. “I like to come a few times a year.”

  “Do you own homes in other places?”

  “The house I’m renovating in New Orleans is the only property I own in my name,” I reply. “But my family owns places all over the world. Travel is a big part of our jobs, as our company is globally sought after, and my father, and let’s be honest, Eli, wanted a home base rather than hotels. So we own apartments in London, New York, and San Francisco. There’s this property here in Florida, and that’s it for now.”