Easy Magic (Boudreaux #5)

I don’t think I’m much of a sailor. We’ve barely set foot on this huge sailboat, and I can’t seem to find my sea legs. But there’s a whole crew of four people to sail the boat, and I’m not going to chicken out in front of them or Beau.

“We’re going to push away from the dock,” Beau says, excitement written all over his face. I don’t want to be the party pooper who says, I don’t feel so good, so I just smile and nod, holding on to the rail at the side of the boat tightly.

Do not throw up, Mallory. You’ve got this.

The engines start, surprising me.

“I thought this was a sailboat.”

“It is.” He wraps his arms around my middle and kisses me on the head. We haven’t even been to the cottage yet to settle in. Beau brought us straight here, he was so excited to take me sailing. “But there are engines in case there is no wind, and to get us away from shore, then to guide us back in again.”

“Gotcha.” I nod, watching the horizon. The sun is just beginning to set, throwing a riot of color across the sky.

If I didn’t feel so damn nauseated, I would be enamored with it.

I take a deep breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth.

“The water is nice and smooth this evening,” Beau says. He’s so happy. I nod again, but inside I’m freaking out. This is smooth? It feels like…I don’t even know what it feels like.

Like I’m in a bounce house for kids with about thirty kids going crazy inside.

And this is smooth.

Lord help me.

Suddenly, the engine quits, and the sails are raised, and they catch the wind, pulling us across the water. It’s a bit smoother now, amazingly, and I start to relax back into him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I think so.” I reply.

“Look how far out we are already,” he says, pointing back to land. I look, and being okay flies right out of the window.

“Oh, God.”

“What, sweetheart? It’s hard to hear you over the wind.”

Good. Because I’m going to hurl. Looking back wasn’t a good move. I close my eyes, but that doesn’t help at all.

It just makes it worse.

I’m going to die.

“Mal, you’re shaking,” he says and leans around so he can see my face. “God, are you okay?”

“No,” I reply. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay,” he says, rubbing circles on my back. “It’s okay if you need to be sick.”

I’m quite sure it’s never okay to be sick in front of the man you’re currently having sex with.

I shake my head, so angry at myself. He’s still rubbing my back, and I know he’s trying to help me feel better, but nothing is making me feel better right now.

“Deep breaths,” he croons into my ear. “Just breathe, Mallory.”

“If I didn’t feel like I was going to lose my very expensive lunch right now, I’d find that very sweet.”

“Ah, baby, I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head, and that’s it. I lose it.

All over the side of this beautiful sailboat.

And I can’t stop. It’s like the floodgates have been thrown open, and there’s no slowing it down.

“We’re turning back,” he says, and I pray that he can’t see what’s happening. He’s pulled my hair back and instead of circles, he’s just patting my back gently. “We’ll be back in just a little while.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, then heave again. God, my stomach is empty, but I can’t stop the heaving.

“No, I’m sorry,” he says.

“Didn’t know.” I rest my forehead on my hand, as there’s a lull in the super sexy throwing up. “Now we do.”

“Now we do,” he says. “I wish they had ice chips on board.”

“Why? I’m not in labor,” I reply, not understanding.

“Chewing on ice chips helps the nausea,” he says. “Or peppermint oil.”

“Oh!” I whip my head up and immediately regret it. “I should have thought of that. I have peppermint oil in my handbag.”

“Excellent.” He reaches for my bag and hands it to me. I find it, shove my bag back in his hands, and rub a drop under my nose, then on my pulse points, hoping it helps quickly.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of this.”

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think well when I’m throwing up.”

I nod and breathe deep, beginning to feel just a bit better. Not all the way, but it is lessening the urge to heave.

Thank God.

Finally, we reach the dock and Beau immediately leads me off the boat and to dry land.

“Just stand here,” he says, taking my shoulders in his hands so he can watch me. “Take a deep breath.”

And just like that, the nausea disappears as quickly as it showed up on the boat.

“Amazing,” I whisper, and then I feel my shoulders drop.

“What’s wrong now?”

“We have to break up,” I reply and lean forward, until my forehead is resting on his chest.

“What? Why?”

“Because I can’t sail!”

“Okay?”

“I can’t be on boats, Beau. I should have known I’d get seasick because I get motion sick doing almost anything. I can’t ride rides at carnivals. I can’t ride in the backseat of the car for very long. I’m a mess.”

“I’m not following you, sweetheart.”

“You build boats for a living!” I look up at him now, and am shocked to see him smiling. “You build boats, and just the thought of being on one now makes me—”

“Okay, okay,” he says and pulls me in for a hug. “Shh. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay that we have to break up.”

“We’re not breaking up.” He kisses my head again. “Just because my family builds boats, doesn’t mean that I spend my life on them. I can still sail with my family. It doesn’t mean you have to join us. Gabby isn’t particularly fond of it either, and my parents didn’t disown her.”

“She doesn’t like it either?” I ask, hope blooming in my chest.

“Nope. So you’re stuck with me, Mallory.” I pull back, and he plants his lips on my forehead. “You have no idea how important you’ve come to be to me, and I don’t know how to explain it. But I will say that I’m not going anywhere, certainly not because you have a queasy stomach.”

And now my stomach is moving again, but with butterflies now.

“You say the sweetest things,” I whisper.

“I don’t say anything that I don’t mean,” he replies, his eyes on my lips. “Now, let’s get to the cottage so you can get more comfortable.”

“Okay.” I smile as he slips his hand in mine and leads me back to the car.

***

“This isn’t a cottage.”

I’ve just stepped from the car, and am staring at the beautiful home we just pulled up to. It’s a full moon tonight, so there’s a bright glow cast around the white building with black wrought iron balconies. This cottage is bigger than the home he’s building in New Orleans.

“We call it the cottage,” he says with a smile, pulling our luggage behind him. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour. Are you feeling okay?”

“Much better,” I reply with a smile. “I’m sorry again.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Come on, this is one of my favorite places, and I’m excited to show it to you.”