Easy Magic (Boudreaux #5)

I nod.

“My grandmother taught me all about alternative medicine from the time I was a child. She wasn’t crazy with it,” she says quickly, “she still believed in western medicine as well, but why take a pain reliever full of chemicals if you can just put a drop of oil on the back of your neck to get the same result?”

She shrugs and reaches for the dessert, smiles when she opens the box, and digs in with enthusiasm.

“I thought it would be fun to open a store full of those things,” she continues. “I wanted the bottles to be pretty, and everything to be tied with a bow. I wanted a place where people enjoyed coming in, even if only to browse. It smells good, the energy is calming.”

And I realize that that’s exactly how I feel whenever I’ve been in her store.

“I’d say you’ve accomplished those things.”

“Thank you.” Her smile is huge and genuine. “That’s really the best compliment I could ever get.”

“Really?” I cock a brow and watch her lashes flutter. “I’d also say you’re stunning. I want to bury my fingers in that amazing curly hair of yours.”

There must be something in the food that’s making me speak so freely. But Mallory seems to bring out my flirty side.

I’d forgotten that I had a flirty side.

Her smile slips just a bit, and her cheeks flush, and I know she’d look just like that when I’m buried balls deep inside her.

“That’s very nice of you.”

“But not what you want to hear.”

“Well, don’t get me wrong, every woman wants to be told she’s pretty.”

“I didn’t say pretty,” I reply and lean in, resting my elbows on her desk. “‘Pretty’ is too dull of a word to describe you.”

“You’re an interesting man,” she says, tilting her head to the side and studying my face with narrowed violet eyes. “You just say whatever you’re feeling.”

“Not always.” I reach out to tuck her hair behind her ear and she stiffens. I pause, keeping my eyes pinned to hers before I slowly brush just the pads of my fingertips over the outline of her ear, tucking that soft curly hair, then lowering my hand back to the desk. “But I see no reason to not be honest with you.”

“I opened this shop because I love it,” she says, her voice still soft but firm. She’s not weak in any way, and that pulls at me like a siren’s song. “I want to help people if I can, even if it’s just to moisturize their hands. And I like this building.”

“There are other streets with more foot traffic.”

“And I like where I am,” she says again. “I do well here.”

“I’m glad you do.” I nod and without giving it much thought, reach out to pull my fingertips over her hand. My eyes are watching hers as I do, and I can see the hesitation just before I touch her, and then the relief when my skin rests on hers.

She doesn’t like to be touched.

“Tell me more,” I say softly.

“That’s all there is about the store.”

“Tell me about you.”

She pulls her hand out from under mine and sits back in her chair. “I think you’d better go, before I tell you more than I want to.”

I cock a brow. “I’m a fan of honesty.”

“Good.” She nods once and begins loading the empty boxes in the trash. “I’m in favor of being honest, and in that same spirit, I’m exhausted, Beau.”

“I know. I am, too.”

But I’m not ready to say goodbye to her yet. I’m afraid that we’ll go our separate ways, and I won’t see her again.

“What are you thinking?” she asks.

“That I want to see you again.”

“You live upstairs from my shop,” she reminds me. “I don’t see how we could avoid it.”

“We avoided it for a damn long time,” I say and stand, shoving my hands in my pockets. “But I won’t make that mistake again.”

She smiles as she also stands and walks around the desk. “You are something else.”

“True. At least, that’s what my mother always says, and I don’t think she means it in an endearing way.”

“I’m sure she loves you very much.”

“She does.” I shrug. “And I’d rather not talk about my mama when all I can think about is this.” I take her hand and tug her against me, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. She fits. Her face is pressed to my chest, her arms wrapped around my torso, hands pressed to my back.

This is the sexiest hug in the history of the universe.

After a moment, Mallory sinks into me, letting out a long breath. I want to boost her up onto the desk and fuck her until we’re both a sweaty mess, and I plan to do exactly that in the not too distant future.

But for right now, I’m content holding her against me, rocking gently, until she finally pulls back and smiles up at me.

“Thank you. I needed that.”

I kiss her forehead before letting her go. “Me too.”





Chapter Three


Mallory

It’s almost two in the morning, after the longest day of my life, and do you think I can sleep?

Of course not. I’ve been up for nearly twenty-four hours, and my brain won’t shut off.

I should be thinking about the shop, what I need to order to replace the damaged products, pray that the floor isn’t ruined, and if it is, how in the hell am I going to pay for it?

Instead, all I can think of is a certain sexy man named Beau.

Because he’s different.

And different makes me feel…nervous. I don’t like surprises. They don’t happen often, and when they do, they’re not usually good surprises.

I can’t read him. At all. He touches me, and there’s just calm, like I’m standing in calm, blue warm water. But when I look in his eyes, there are too many emotions to count.

So, why can’t I feel them? That’s what I do. It’s who I am. It’s why relationships don’t work out for me. Not just with men, but friendships too. Because it’s too creepy for most people when I respond to words they haven’t said out loud.

I’ve gotten better at keeping my mouth shut and recognizing what they’ve said aloud and what they’re thinking, but it still happens sometimes.

And I learned long ago to not volunteer the psychic information to anyone new. I’m suddenly either a freak show, or their entertainment.

But I can’t turn it off. I tried for many years, especially after I lost my grandmother. It’s no use. It is what it is, and I have learned to live with it quite well. I have my small circle of loved ones, and that’s all I need.

At least, that’s what I always thought.

But now, I’m yearning for a man’s touch, and that hasn’t happened in…ever.

I’m no virgin. But sex takes an emotional toll on me and I haven’t found anyone that’s worth it.

But Beau might be.

Because I can’t read him, but the emotions he’s pulled out of me after spending such a short amount of time with him is new.

And nice.

Very nice.

I smirk and turn on my side, throw one leg out of the covers, and sigh. My phone lights up with a text from Lena. I grab it and smile.

Why are you awake?