Easy Nights (Boudreaux #6)

“You’re wealthy. Don’t wealthy people hire nannies?” I already know the answer to this question, but I love getting a rise out of these guys.

“Not these wealthy people,” he replies and falls to the floor. “We will hire someone when Kate wants to go back to work, but for now, it’s just the two of us.”

“I never thought I’d see the day that Eli Boudreaux was not only settled down with one woman, but was changing diapers too.”

“It’s rather funny,” Beau agrees and shrugs when his brother glares at him. “You were always the confirmed bachelor.”

“I just hadn’t met Kate yet,” he says.

“How sweet,” I say and laugh when he takes a swing at me. I easily move out of the way, and this begins our sparring for the afternoon. There’s little talk involved, other than the typical don’t be a wuss as we go through the motions of punching, kicking, and generally kicking each other’s asses.

“I can’t help but notice,” Beau says as he steps aside and watches me advance on Eli, “the irony that we did this exact thing when we were sixteen. We just didn’t have the disguise of calling it exercise then.”

Eli grunts and tackles me around the waist, sending me onto my back. Fatherhood hasn’t softened him in the least, and I have to dig deep to get out of his hold.

“Not bad,” I say, panting, as I stand and walk to the edge of the mat to get my water. I hear the door of the gym open, and I turn expecting to see Declan, but instead, find Savannah walk in on the sexiest black heels I’ve ever seen. She grins, then looks at me and her face falls in horror, her skin going white as a ghost.

“Oh my God,” she says and rushes to me, those heels clicking quickly on the wood floor. “You said you’d be okay. I gave you a freaking black eye!”

Eli and Beau’s smirks aren’t lost on me as she moves to touch my face, and I back away immediately.

She can’t touch me right now.

Last night at her house was too much for me. I knew I shouldn’t have gone, but I couldn’t say no. And then she let me touch her, and she fucking came on to me, and I had to get out of there before I boosted her up onto the kitchen counter and sunk inside her, making love until I don’t know where she ends and I begin.

And that can never happen.

“I’m fine,” I reply. “It looks worse than it is.”

“Bullshit,” she says. I love it when Van gets all fired up. She’s so petite, but her size has nothing to do with her attitude. It’s good to see this light in her eyes. It was gone for far too long. “You’re hurt, and I did it.”

“The other guy looks fine to me,” Beau says. Tears run down his cheeks from laughing.

“Fuck you,” I reply.

“So, how exactly did this happen?” Eli asks.

“He was—” Van begins, but I cut her off.

“It doesn’t matter.” I walk around her, needing to put some distance between us. “It was an accident. I think we’re done for today.”

“We still have fifteen minutes left,” Eli says with a grin that says he’s enjoying the hell out of my discomfort.

“We’re done,” I repeat. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“Ben.”

I turn at the sound of Savannah’s voice and look into her eyes for the first time since she arrived.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry.”

She’s not just talking about the eye. We both know it. The thing is, she has nothing to be sorry for.

I’m the one who can’t handle just being friends anymore. She hasn’t done anything wrong, and I hate the thought that I’ve made her think she has. Which is new to me, because I usually don’t give a fuck if I’ve rubbed someone the wrong way.

But I care about Van.

So I cross to her and kiss her forehead, not touching her anywhere else.

She smells like sunshine and strawberries.

She smells like she used to before her life went sideways.

Fuck me, I want her.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I tell her, tipping her chin up. “I’m fine.”

She searches my face for a second and then nods. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“You’re sure you won’t stay?” Beau asks. “We have twelve minutes left.”

“I’m out,” I reply. I’ll never make Savannah feel uncomfortable. Well, not intentionally anyway. But I’m smart enough to know when I need to remove myself from her.

I wave as I leave and take the private elevator down and walk to my car, throwing my gym bag in the back.

And my phone rings.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, darlin’,” she says. She sounds tired. But then, Mom always sounds tired these days. “What are you up to?”

“I just left Beau and Eli and was thinking about heading into the office for a few hours.”

“Oh, that’s nice. How are the boys?”

I grin. Mom is as much a part of the Boudreaux family as I am. It’s always just been Mom and me, but the Boudreaux family was always right next door. My mama and Mama Boudreaux are best friends.

“They’re good. I kicked their asses.”

“I don’t like that language,” she reminds me, and I can’t help but feel scolded. How is it that no matter how old I get, my mom still has the ability to dress me down with one sentence?

“Yes, ma’am,” I murmur. “How are you today?”

“Well, I’m okay, but I was hoping I could talk you into going to the grocery store for me.”

I frown. Mom needs help for a lot of things these days, thanks to all of her health problems, but she’s still quite self-sufficient.

“Are you not feeling well?”

“Not great,” she confirms. “I haven’t been able to get to the store this past week, and I’m out of a few things.”

“Of course I’ll go,” I reply immediately and turn toward her house. She still lives next door to Mama Boudreaux. I think the house is too big for her now, but she loves it, and refuses to move. So I hired a woman to come in once a week to clean for her.

It’s the least I can do.

We say goodbye and I make it to her house quickly.

When I walk in, I immediately know that something isn’t right.

“Mom?” I call out.

“Upstairs,” she calls back.

The house smells of old garbage. She hasn’t taken it out in a while, and there are dirty dishes in the sink.

This is not normal for my mom.

I take the stairs two at a time and find her sitting on the edge of her bed. She’s wearing a robe and slippers. Her dark hair is a mess.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh.” She waves me off like nothing big is wrong. “I just have a sore toe. I gave myself a pedicure and nicked the skin.”

“When is the last time you were downstairs?”

She cringes. “It’s been a minute. A couple days probably.”

“A couple of days?” I scowl down at her. “Let me see your toe.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“Mama.” My voice is firm.

“Don’t you talk to me like that, young man. You may be all growly with your clients and friends, but I’m still your mother and you will speak respectfully to me.”

I take a deep breath, pushing the frustration aside. “Yes, ma’am. Can I please see your toe?”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” she says. It’s a good thing she’s looking at her foot as she takes her slipper off rather than my face because she’d tan my hide for the eye roll I just gave her.

But then I look down at her foot.