Easy Magic (Boudreaux #5)

“Letting me touch you,” he replies, then slams the door and walks around the car to join me. He doesn’t ask any questions, or even mention it again, as he drives out of the Quarter. Once on the freeway, he reaches over and takes my hand in his, kisses my knuckles, and smiles over at me. “It’s not far.”


I nod, but all I can think is, it could be in Florida for all I care, as long as we sit here in the dark, my hand in his. God, it feels good to be touched! I’ve lived without it for so long, I’ve forgotten how soothing it is.

But soon he exits the freeway and pulls up to a hole in the wall BBQ place.

“I hope you eat meat.”

“I do.” I smile and my stomach growls loudly. “I just realized that I haven’t eaten much today.”

“Well, let’s fix that,” he says as he exits the car and walks around to my door, ever the gentleman.

I’m sure manners were ingrained in him from day one. Or, they’re just genetically there, given how wealthy he is and who his family is.

Bringing me to the BBQ place is a happy surprise, but I’m grossly over dressed for it.

“Why are you frowning?” He asks and takes my hand again, lacing our fingers, as we walk to the door.

“I think I’m overdressed for BBQ.”

“You could wear that dress to the supermarket and it would be appropriate,” he says, smiling down at me.

“Right.” I laugh. “I hope they have bibs.”

“Covering you up would be a shame,” he says as the hostess greets us and shows us to our table. I’m careful not to touch her hand as she passes me a menu.

“Molly will be your server,” she says with a smile and walks away.

“So who hurt you?” Beau asks, as casually as if he’s asking about the weather.

“Excuse me?” He’s staring at his menu, and he sets his jaw as he raises his gaze to mine.

“Who hurt you?”

“Why do you assume I’ve been hurt?”

“I know the signs,” he replies softly, sets his menu aside, and takes my hand in his. “I know someone else who was hurt, and has issues with being touched.”

“Oh.” I sigh and glance down at the lit candle on the table, at a loss for what to say. For how much to say.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he says and squeezes my fingers. I glance up, and rather than distain or distrust in his eyes, I see genuine concern, and it only makes me like him more.

“I wasn’t hurt,” I reply honestly. “And I’d like to leave it at that for right now.”

“That’s fair,” he says with a nod. “We’ll talk about deeper things another time.”

I cock a brow. “Another time? That implies that this won’t be the only date.”

“Oh, this is definitely not the only date,” he says with a wink. “Not by a long shot.”





Chapter Four


Mallory

Dinner has been…fascinating. Beau is ever the gentleman, with those inbred manners showing through all evening, and when he looks at me, those hazel eyes burn in a way I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.

In the best way possible.

Like he’d rather be devouring me, rather than the ribs on his plate.

He’s asked me dozens of questions about the shop, my family—which I avoid—and my taste in movies and music.

“I feel like I’ve talked your ears off,” I say as the waitress takes our empty plates away. I can’t help but be a bit disappointed that dinner is coming to an end already. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he asks and slips his credit card in the folder holding our check. The waitress takes it from him with a smile.

He’s damn hot.

I blink at the thought, realizing that it’s not mine, it’s hers.

She’s not wrong. He is hot.

And he’s with me.

I’m not a jealous woman, but that might have colored me a bit green.

“Mal?” Beau says with a smile.

“Yes?”

“What would you like to know?” He reaches across the table and takes my hand, and I’m suddenly calm, just like all the other times he’s touched me. I take a deep breath and look into his eyes, which are pinned to mine, not the waitress.

Just remember that. He’s here with me.

“What’s new and exciting in your life?”

“Besides the gorgeous woman I talked into going to dinner with me?” His smile is smug, and he makes me chuckle.

“Are you meeting up with her later?” Yes, I’m totally flirting with him. It’s damn fun.

He just shakes his head and smiles, that crazy hot grin that makes my nipples perk right up and the rest of me tighten.

I’m so not used to all of this sexual chemistry.

“Well, work certainly isn’t new and exciting,” he begins and signs his name to the check, then sets it aside and takes my hand again. I can feel myself relaxing with him, trusting his touch.

It’s the first time in my life that I’ve been able to trust physical touch, and I’m soaking it in like a sponge.

“Do you enjoy what you do?” I ask him and brace my chin in the hand he isn’t holding.

“Very much,” he says with a nod. “It was always expected that I’d take over the company with my siblings, but it wasn’t something I dreaded. My father made sure that we all spent time in the offices in the summer, working part time. I always knew that I wanted to be a part of Bayou Enterprises. It’s several generations old, and it’s something to be proud of.”

“Absolutely,” I agree with a nod. “That’s a wonderful legacy. Are you a workaholic?”

He tilts his head and purses those full lips, as though he’s genuinely pondering the answer.

“I can be,” he finally says. “There’s a lot of responsibility that Eli, Van, and I all carry, but it’s not a burden.”

“That’s great. What do you enjoy doing besides working and jogging?”

“I don’t really enjoy the jogging,” he says with a laugh. “But I do enjoy southern food, so the jogging is a must.”

“It seems to be working,” I say, then feel my eyes widen in horror as I realize that I’ve said it out loud.

“Why do you look mortified?” he asks.

“Because I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Mal, we’re attracted to each other. It’s okay to admit it.”

“I’ll be honest,” I reply and pull my hand out of his, not wanting to touch him while being completely vulnerable with him. “I don’t date a lot.”

“Okay.”

My gaze whips up to his. “Okay?”

“As long as you date me a lot, I don’t care who else you’ve dated.”

“What I’m trying to say,” I reply, trying to ignore the enormous butterflies that just started doing the rhumba in my stomach, “that I don’t have a lot of experience with dating. I’m not entirely innocent.” I shake my head, disgusted with myself, and the way my tongue is all tangled and not explaining this the way I want.

Suddenly, he takes my hand again and smiles widely.

“Take a deep breath.”

I comply.

“Now, start over.”

“You’re very patient.”

“No. Not typically. But you seem to bring out some good qualities in me. Please, go on.”

How in the bloody hell am I supposed to remember what I was trying to say when he goes and says sweet things like that?