Easy Magic (Boudreaux #5)

***

It’s noon, and the plumber still has his head stuck in the ceiling of the bathroom, swearing at old plumbing and his lot in life in general. The good news is, it’s a one-day job.

The bad news is, a lot of Mallory’s stock is not salvageable.

But I have insurance, and even if I didn’t, I’ll be paying to replace whatever she lost.

Eli went to work hours ago. Kate decided to take the day off from the office so she could stay and help Mallory. Declan came for a while this morning, and just left as well.

Mallory’s part time help, a young woman named Shelly, came in to work this afternoon.

The set up on the sidewalk is a bit chaotic. Hundreds of tourists walk by each hour, so we have to keep a keen eye out for thieves, but I think she’s also selling much more than she normally would.

Mallory is loading a woman’s merchandise in a bag and lifts it to pass to her, and I notice, like I have all morning, that Mallory is careful not to touch anyone. However, when the lady takes her bag, she reaches over and pats Mallory’s hand.

Her body language doesn’t change, but her face goes absolutely still, and then her eyes just look sad as she gazes back at the customer.

“Thank you so much,” the customer says. “I hope this helps me sleep. Ever since my husband died, I can’t manage to get more than a few hours at a time.”

Mallory nods, as if she already knows and smiles softly. “This should work great. Don’t forget to put the Vetiver on the soles of your feet.”

“I won’t.” She waves and sets off down the street.

“I’m going to go grab some more of the lavender hand lotion,” Shelly says. “It’s selling like hotcakes.”

“The lavender always does” Mallory says with a nod. “And would you please also bring out a couple of the sage candles?”

“Sure thing!”

“This is fun,” Kate says with a smile. “It’s a nice change of pace from office work.”

“You really don’t have to stay,” Mallory says and glances up at me. “Both of you. Shelly and I can handle this.”

Just then a man picks up a bottle of shampoo and starts to slip it in his pocket.

“You’ll be paying for that,” I say, glaring at the man, who sets it down and walks away, whistling and smiling like he didn’t do anything wrong.

Asshole.

“I’ll be staying,” I reply. “Between jerks like that and the plumber inside, I’d like to keep an eye on things.”

“And I really want to stay,” Kate says. “Please don’t kick me out.”

“Okay,” Mal replies, shaking her head with a smile. “I’m not kicking anyone out.”

***

It’s been a long fucking day. It’s just past eight in the evening, and I’m on my way back to Mallory’s shop with food. We’ve all been on the go since I woke up to her banging on my door. Business was busy today, much to Mallory’s delight. The plumber fixed the problem in the ceiling, and with fans blowing all night, she should be back to business as usual tomorrow.

But she hasn’t eaten all day, so I’m bringing us both dinner. She just closed the shop. I’m assuming Kate left just after me to go home to Eli.

I frown as I walk through the door. She hasn’t locked it yet.

And then I frown again when I find Kate and Mallory sitting across from each other at Mallory’s desk, eating Chinese takeout.

“You didn’t lock the door,” I say, feeling foolish with the bag of Italian in my hand.

“Eli’s picking me up,” Kate says, her eyes wide when she sees the bag of food. Her phone beeps. “There he is! I’m out of here.” She offers me an apologetic smile as she grabs her white carton of food and rushes outside.

Mallory and I are quiet as the door closes behind Kate. Finally, I walk to the door and lock it, then return to her desk. “I should have asked if you have dinner plans. I did bring dessert, so at least that won’t go to waste.”

“Are you kidding?” she asks, eyeing my bag. “I’m starving. I’ll eat all the food.” She holds her hands out. “Gimme.”

“It’s not just for you, you know,” I reply, handing her the bag. I can’t help but grin at her as she unpacks the bag with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. “I’m hungry too.”

“I can share,” she says and sends me a wink.

“They’re violet,” I say, surprised.

“Excuse me?” She stands up straight, a box of chicken Alfredo gripped in her hand.

“Your eyes. I thought they were blue, but I was wrong. They’re violet.”

She looks down and nods, concentrating on the food again. “They are.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as she sits and dives back into her Chinese. I sit in the chair across from her and open the Styrofoam box she placed in front of me. “This is a fantastic restaurant.”

“Oh, I know,” she says with a smile. “One of my favorites.”

“I like a woman who enjoys food.” I take a bite of my lasagna and feel my stomach sigh in relief. I am also starving.

“Did you get crème brulee for dessert?” she asks, those violet eyes shining.

“I did.”

“Excellent.” She sets her half-eaten Chinese aside and digs into her pasta. “Any other day, I would say this isn’t a great combination, but everything tastes good right now. I don’t think any of us ate today.”

“We were a little busy,” I reply.

“Thank you again,” she says. “You went above and beyond the call of landlord duty.”

“It wasn’t a problem at all.” I wipe my mouth on a small napkin. Truth be told, it was kind of fun to spend the day in her shop rather than in my office. And the more time I spent with her today, the more I want to know about her. “So, tell me about you.”

“What about me?” The way she’s shoveling that pasta in her mouth is awe-inspiring. “There’s not much to say.”

“Let’s start with this shop. What made you decide to open it?”

She shrugs, not looking up from her meal. It’s interesting how she doesn’t like to look me in the eyes when she talks about things that make her vulnerable.

“It was just a hobby that became my work.”

I sit back and watch her for a moment, then shake my head. “I don’t think that’s it.”

Her head jerks up now, and she frowns. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, I’m saying there’s much more to that story.”

She sighs and pushes the food around “Isn’t there always more to the story?”

“I’d like to hear yours.” Which surprises the fuck out of me. I rarely take the time to chat with anyone outside of business and family.

“I’ve always had a knack for knowing what people need,” she says softly, as if she’s choosing her words very carefully. I don’t know why that bothers me. I want her to speak her mind, to not have to censor what she says.

But this is a good start.

“In what way?”

“Maybe someone has headaches, or their feet hurt. I have essential oils and herbs that can help with those things.”