Easy Magic (Boudreaux #5)

“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.”