Easy Magic (Boudreaux #5)

The wine is crisp and dry and perfect. I carry the glass into the living room and sit on the couch, pulling my legs up under me.

I feel restless. Should I watch TV? I take a sip and wrinkle my nose. Nah.

Read a book?

Maybe.

But rather than reach for my iPad, I wake my phone up to look over the shop’s social media pages and respond to questions and comment on posts and photos of my products. Suddenly a text comes in from Charly.

I love this lavender and frankincense combo! Very relaxing.

I grin and take a sip of wine and reply: add a glass of wine and you’ll sleep like a baby.

The stillness of my house is a welcome change from the creaks and groans of the old building that houses my shop. It’s as haunted as any building I’ve ever been in, which is to be expected in a city as old and full of history as New Orleans. It’s not known as one of the most haunted cities for nothing.

But there are no spirits here in my home. I knew the minute I walked in that I was alone here, and bought it on the spot. This is the one place that my mind can be at peace.

I settle back against the cushions of my soft couch and yawn. My eyes close, and before long, I’ve drifted off to sleep.

***

I’m dreaming. I always know that I’m dreaming, but I can’t change the course of the dream. It’s like I’m living it and watching it like a movie at the same time.

There’s so much water! I’m in my grandmamma’s house, and the water is pouring in through windows, doors, the seams of the walls.

Everywhere.

The rooms are filling up, and her things are floating around me, even things that I either gave away or threw out long ago and it looks like it did when I was a child.

Is she here? Will I finally get to see her?

“Grandmamma?” I call out, but there’s no answer. Just so much water. It’s up to my waist now, and I can’t move. It’s heavy against me, pinning me in place. I’m not even floating.

“Help!” My head is thrashing back and forth, looking for someone to help me, but I’m alone.

And the water is rising.

There’s a beeping coming from somewhere. Maybe outside of the dream? It’s a dream! I’m not going to drown. It’s only a dream.

But the water is cold. My feet are numb now, it’s so cold. Where is everyone? Why aren’t they helping me?

“Grandmamma!” I call again. She never comes, but I hope that she’ll appear this time to help me. “You promised you’d be here!”

I’m crying now, and the water is up to my shoulders.

“Help me!”

“Wake up, Mallory.”

It’s her voice!

“Grandmamma!”

“Get to the shop. Wake up.”

I jolt out of sleep and sit up, blinking, looking around wildly. There is no one here, but I’m so cold.

“I heard you,” I say to the room. “Why can’t I see you?”

I sigh and reach for my pants. It’s four in the morning. I slept seven hours? I stare at my phone, sure that it must be wrong. It felt like I’d only been asleep for minutes.

“Weird dreams,” I mutter and shake my head. I do not want to go to the shop at four in the morning. I’ll end up staying all day.

But she said to go. And she rarely speaks to me.

Or, it could have just been a part of the dream.

I bite my lip, and decide to go check, just to be on the safe side. I live on the other side of town from the Quarter. There’s just too much history in that part of the city for me to be able to live there without going insane from all of the spiritual interference.

But at this time of the morning, it only takes me about twenty minutes to get there.

And when I walk in, it’s my dream all over again.

Or, my worst nightmare.

The shop is flooded with at least three inches of water on the floor. I can hear it rushing, but can’t see where it’s coming from until I open the small bathroom and see water pouring out of the ceiling fan.

“I don’t think that’s supposed to happen.” I sigh and prop my hands on my hips. “Thanks, Grandmamma.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket to call Beau Boudreaux, who also happens to be my landlord.

Of course, there is no answer.

The man lives upstairs, directly above this shop. Can’t he hear the water? Does he sleep like the dead?

Or maybe he’s not home.

I frown and open my mind, searching the building.

He’s home. I can feel his presence.

And he might be naked.

I immediately slam the psychic door shut and walk outside, up the wrought iron steps to his loft, and bang on the door.

“Wake up,” I mutter. “And put some pants on.”

I raise my hand to bang again, but the door is flung open and there’s Beau, rubbing sleep from his eyes, a frown on his handsome face.

He’s pulled some sweatpants on.

Thank God.

“What’s going on?” he demands.

“I have a leak,” I reply and swallow hard, willing myself to keep my eyes on his face, and not the sculpted muscles of his torso. I’ve met the man exactly twice, including right now, but what he does to my libido is ridiculous.

I’d forgotten that I have a libido.

Which is a sad statement all on its own.

“You had to wake me up at four-thirty for a leak?”

“I have three inches of water on my floor,” I reply and turn to stomp down the stairs. “Come look!”

I don’t look back as I wade back into my store. A few moments later, I hear Beau come clomping down the steps and look back as he fills the doorway with his wide shoulders. He’s tall, pushing six-and-a-half feet. His hair is dark, and his eyes are like old whiskey.

Those whiskey eyes survey the space, frowning when he sees the amount of water on the floor.

“Do you know where it’s coming from?”

“The bathroom,” I reply and lead him to it.

“The fucking ceiling fan?” He exclaims and shakes his head. “I was expecting the toilet to be overflowing. Old plumbing is unpredictable.”

“I was expecting the same, but here we are,” I say and cross my arms over my chest. He glances back at me, and his eyes drop to my cleavage for just an instant before he looks me in the eye.

I don’t uncross my arms.

“I’m going to shut off the water to the building.”

“Good idea.”

He rushes back outside and a few moments later, the water slows to a small trickle, and then fast drops.

He comes back inside and looks up. “Must be a broken pipe.”

“Are you a plumber as well as a billionaire mogul?” I ask, unable to resist.

His lips twitch. “I’m good at a lot of things.”

Oh, I just bet you are.

I clear my throat. “Thanks for coming down to help me.”

“It’s my building.” He shrugs. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake up earlier to catch it.”

He brushes past me, just barely grazing my shoulder before I can move out of the way, and just like before, I don’t feel anything.

Just cool calm.

But when I glance up at him, his eyes are full of emotion, and when he looks back at me, bright lust is front and center.

I can see it, but I can’t feel it.

“Are you okay?”

“Great.”

He runs outside, then comes back with a frown. He’s grabbed my broom and is sweeping water out the front door to the street.