“Poor girl,” Van says. “She said her love’s name is Douglas?”
“Yes.”
Gabby’s tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I have all of the slave records. If he was sold to our family, I can look for a boy named Douglas. He would have also been a teenager, or just a little older.”
“That would be great,” I reply, but I’m exhausted. “Maybe you could look for that, and we can try again another time.”
“Are you okay?” Charly asks.
“I’m fine, just tired.”
“You should stop,” Lena says.
“Yeah, I’m done.” I close my eyes, ready to close all of the doors, when I suddenly feel something…different.
Lena’s hand tightens on mine.
“What the hell?”
I can’t answer her. It’s a being, but it’s not a spirit.
This person isn’t dead.
Chapter Eight
~Beau~
“Yellow stripe in the corner pocket,” Eli says as he leans over Ben’s pool table and taps the ball in the hole.
While the girls are having their séance, Eli and I decided to hang out at Ben’s house, raid his beer fridge, and kick his ass at pool.
“What’s new?” Ben asks and sips his beer.
“Beau’s been bouncing on the psychic chick,” Eli replies and taps another ball into the pocket.
“How old are you?” I ask him, scowling.
“Well, you have been.”
“I’ve been seeing Mallory,” I reply.
“I’d already heard,” Ben says and claps me on the shoulder. “She’s pretty hot.”
“Don’t make me kick your ass.” I narrow my eyes at him, but Ben just smirks.
“Right. ’Cause that could happen.”
“How did you already know? I’ve barely been on two dates with her.”
“News spreads quickly in the Boudreaux family,” he says with a shrug. Ben’s last name may not be Boudreaux, but he’s been a part of our family since middle school. One of Eli and my best friends, Ben’s always been around, and we were always welcome at his house too.
“By the way,” Eli says, “you need to tell Mama.”
“I need to tell Mama that I took a girl out on two dates? That hardly constitutes a proposal.”
Eli holds up his hands. “All I’m saying is, the girls have been talking, and we all know that they’re talking to Mama too. So you might want to talk to her yourself before she’s convinced herself that the proposal is just around the corner.”
“You know, the bad thing about big families is they can’t keep their noses out of your fucking business.”
“We love you too,” Eli says with a wink. “I have to say, I was surprised that you’re interested in Mallory. I didn’t know you were into all that hocus pocus phooey stuff.”
I cock a brow. “She doesn’t cackle while stirring a cauldron at midnight,” I reply dryly. “And she’s not a witch. She says she’s psychic. Which I didn’t think I believed in either.”
“But you’ve changed your mind?” Ben asks.
“I don’t understand it,” I reply, choosing my words carefully. I know they want to rib me; they’re my brothers, and that’s just what we do. But they also care about me. This isn’t an interrogation, it’s a conversation to make sure I know what I’m getting myself into.
But does anyone understand what they’re getting themselves into when they start a new relationship?
“How could she know about the grandfather clock?” I ask.
“Maybe one of the girls told her?” Eli suggests.
“I don’t think so. It was an off the cuff comment,” I reply. “So, no, I don’t fully understand it, but I believe that she believes it, and she’s not crazy.”
“I totally believe it,” Ben says casually.
“Really?”
He looks at both of us like we’re nuts.
“Don’t you know who her grandmother was? Her last name is Adams.”
Eli and I look at each other and then back to Ben. “So?”
“Olivia Adams was a super famous psychic. She helped find dozens of missing kids. My mom was obsessed with that stuff. Hell, she still is.”
“I don’t remember her,” I reply, shaking my head.
“Well, even so, we live in New Orleans. There’s some crazy stuff that happens in this town.”
“Regardless of all of that,” I say, interrupting him, “I like her. Her. Mallory, the woman. She’s sexy and smart. She’s a good businesswoman. Being psychic is something she does, but it’s not who she is.”
“I get it,” Eli says with a nod. “I just wonder, is it weird that she reads your mind all the time?”
“She doesn’t,” I reply, getting tired of this conversation. “She says that I’m the one person she can’t read, and I think we both prefer it that way. Now, are you going to play pool or keep asking me about a woman that I’ve just started dating?”
“Both,” Eli says with a grin.
“Hey, I think it’s great,” Ben says, his face totally sober. “If you like her, you should spend as much time with her as possible.”
Fuck.
“Ben, Savannah’s single. You know we wouldn’t mind in the least if you—”
“We’re not talking about me,” he says. “Just spend time with your girl. Now, let’s play some fucking pool.”
***
I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning when we both went to work. I wanted to go to her place after she got home from the séance last night, but she called and said she was tired and headed to bed.
She sounded out of it, and I didn’t argue. For Christ’s sake, I’m acting like I can’t live without her, and I still barely know her.
But I’m drawn to her. I can’t deny it.
So, on my way to work, I stop into Bayou Botanicals to say good morning and make sure she’s okay after last night.
I walk in and smile at her employee, Shelly.
“Hi, Mr. Boudreaux,” she says in greeting.
“Good morning. Is Mallory in her office?”
“No, I’m sorry, she’s not in today.”
I stop short and frown. “Is this her usual day off?”
“No, she called and asked me to cover for her today. She’s out ill.”
I want to ask a hundred questions that I’m sure she won’t know the answer to, so I simply don’t and thank her, then leave the shop and immediately dial Mal’s number.
She doesn’t answer.
“Good morning, it’s Beau. Shelly said you’re out sick, so I wanted to call to see if you need anything. Just let me know if you do. Feel better, sugar.”
I hang up and head for the office, but then decide to go see her myself. I don’t have any meetings today, which is rare.
I pull into her driveway and ring the doorbell.
She doesn’t answer.
I try calling again, and then curse myself a fool. She’s probably asleep and I’m just disturbing her.
But I need to see her.
When one more ring of the doorbell goes unanswered, I turn to leave but the door opens.
“Beau?”
She looks…exhausted.
“Hi, sweetheart. Shelly said you were sick, so I came to check on you.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” She smiles, but she can barely keep her eyes open. “I’m just so tired.”
“I see that. Do you want me to stay?”
“No.” She shakes her head and scratches her cheek. Her red hair is all over the place, as if she’s been thrashing about in bed. Her half-open blue eyes are dull, and surrounded by dark circles.
She looks horrible.
“You should go,” she says and reaches out to pat my chest. “Your muscles are ridiculous. I’m just going to sleep. That’s boring.”
I can’t even bring myself to snicker over the muscles comment.
“Do you mind if I work from here today, while you sleep?”
She frowns, but it looks like she
’s going to fall asleep on her feet, so I scoop her up and carry her up the stairs.
“This is a weird dream,” she says and lays her head on my chest. “But a nice one. I haven’t dreamed of you before.”
I kiss her temple and set her down on the edge of the bed. Her clothes are soaked through with sweat.
What the fuck is happening?
“Don’t lie down, sweetness; we need to change your clothes.”
“Too tired.”
“I know.” I quickly rummage through her drawer and find an old tank top and panties. “I never thought I’d be trying to get you dressed,” I murmur and turn back to find that she’s fallen back on the bed, her feet still on the floor, and she’s snoring lightly.
Poor woman.
I manage to get the soaked clothes off of her, and get her into the fresh clothes, then tuck her into bed.
I’m not leaving her here alone all day. She’s just too out of it. So, I run out to my car and gather my briefcase and the work I had with me that wouldn’t fit in the briefcase, go back inside, and set up shop on her dining room table.
My phone rings in my pocket. “This is Beau.”
“Hello, Mr. Boudreaux, this is Hillary.”
“Yes, Hillary.” Hillary has been my administrative assistant for five years, and knows what my schedule is every minute of the day.
“I was just going to remind you that you have a phone conference with Japan in fifteen minutes, sir.”
“Thank you.” Shit. I’d forgotten. “I’m not coming into the office today.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
I smile. “I won’t be in today, Hillary. But I am working remotely. Please set the call up through my cell phone, and email me anything that I don’t already have.”
“Yes, sir.”
No matter how many times I’ve told her over the years to call me Beau, she still calls me sir or Mr. Boudreaux.
And she’s only three years older than me.
But I do appreciate her professionalism.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Boudreaux?”
“I understand that I’m a workaholic and that this is unusual, but I’m perfectly fine, Hillary. Thank you for asking. I trust you can handle things there, and I’m available all day. Just call or email if you need me. As if I was on a business trip.”
“Of course, I’m sorry. You’ve just never called out before.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up and briefly check email and my notes on this phone call. If the contract goes through, this will be a three billion dollar deal for Bayou Enterprises. I hope we can wrap it up today, and that I don’t have to go to Japan to do it in person. A month ago, it wouldn’t have bothered me. But now, the thought of being on the other side of the world, away from Mallory, is unacceptable.
So, while the woman who has shifted everything else in my life out of focus recovers upstairs, I prepare to do what I do.
Work.
***
The call went well. There will be no trip to Japan in my immediate future, and a very lucrative agreement was cemented.
It’s been a good morning.
There’s also been no movement upstairs, so I take a break, fetch a fresh bottle of water, and go upstairs to check on Mal.
She’s kicked all of the covers onto the floor, and she’s sweaty again. Her damp hair clings to her forehead and face, which is scrunched up as if she’s in pain.
“Shh.” I sit next to her and press my cool hands to her forehead, then hurry into the bathroom to get a clean, cool cloth to wipe her face off. Her face immediately relaxes and she sighs in relief.
“Thank you,” she whispers without opening her eyes. “I missed you, Grandmamma.”
She’s dreaming. What in the hell is wrong with her? Does she have a virus? Should I take her to the doctor?
Despite the sweat, she doesn’t seem to have a fever. I manage to barely wake her, enough to get her to take some sips of the cold water and switch her pillow, and then she falls back onto the clean pillow with a sigh.
I leave the room, and pull my phone out to call my mother—who else am I supposed to call?—when there’s a knock on the door.
“Hi, Lena,” I say when I open the door.
“Well, hello,” she says in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“I came by this morning after I’d been to the shop and Shelly said Mal had called out sick.”
“She texted me to tell me,” Lena says as she walks inside and looks up the stairs toward Mal’s room. “Is she still sleeping?”
“Yeah, but I’ve never seen anything like—”
Suddenly Lena’s eyes go wide with concern and she sprints toward the stairs. “Oh my God.”
“What’s wrong?” I run behind her and we both come to an abrupt halt at the doorway. Mal is writhing on the bed, as if she’s in pain. She’s making high-pitched mewling sounds, and crying, “Stop. Please stop!”
“It’s okay,” Lena says and takes her hand, then falls to her knees. “We didn’t know this would happen.”
“What is happening?”
Lena looks up with sad eyes. “Mallory is a powerful empath and medium. Most people think a séance is a game, but for a powerful psychic, it’s not a game at all. It’s why she took me with her, so I could be her anchor.
“There wasn’t anything dangerous there,” she says, but then frowns, as if she’s remembering something, but she keeps talking. “She did great, talking to the dead, and relaying the messages to the girls. But it takes so much out of her, and not only is she exhausted, but she’ll dream about those spirits, and experience things they experienced in life.”
“You’re kidding.”
“This isn’t fucking funny,” she replies, her eyes hot now.
“No, it isn’t.” Mal’s head is still thrashing back and forth, so I reach down and brush my knuckles down her cheek. She immediately settles down, letting out a soft sigh.
“Well.” Lena’s watching me, blinking rapidly.
“What?”
“Nothing. She should be okay by tomorrow. We didn’t know how much it would affect her because she hasn’t done anything like that since she was a kid. But now she knows, and she’ll be well rested by the morning.”
“What should I do for her?”
“Just what you’re doing,” she says with a smile and stands to leave the room. “It looks like she’s in good hands.”
“I don’t like these nightmares,” I reply as I follow Lena down the stairs.
“I’m sure they’re not fun for her either. But they won’t last. Thanks for staying with her.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
She waves, and then she’s gone, and I can’t help myself from climbing the stairs again to watch Mallory sleep.
Her breathing is soft and even now, and she’s sleeping peacefully, so I run downstairs to fetch the laptop and my phone. I’m going to work in Mallory’s room for the rest of the evening. Her nightmares are scaring me.
When I return to her room, she’s rolled over to her side and kicked one leg out of the covers, showing me her perfectly round ass, barely covered by red cotton. I lean on the doorjamb, watching her. I want to kiss her there.
I want to kiss her everywhere.
But even more than that, I want to protect her, and that’s surprising to me. I am a protector, always looking out for my siblings and my mother, but I didn’t know that I could feel so deeply for someone that I’ve only just met.
Yet, the thought of anything happening to her makes my heart jump in fear. She’s come to mean a lot to me in just a few short weeks. She makes me happy.
She makes me happy.
When was the last time I could say that? When was the last time something or someone besides work and my family fulfilled me in any way?
I don’t remember.
Mallory whimpers, throwing herself onto her back again, struggling to grab onto something.
I cross to her, put my electronics aside, and climb onto the bed next to her so I can brush her hair off of her face, then take her hand in mine and kiss her knuckles.
“It’s okay, baby.”
She immediately calms, falling back into a dreamless sleep, and I’m reminded of what she said the other day. She can’t read me, and when I touch her, she calms down.
Well, that certainly seems to be true right now.
I literally calm her. What an honor that is.
I kiss her temple and whisper, “I’m right here, Mallory. There’s no need to be afraid. Just sleep.”
And with her hand still in mine, I open my laptop and struggle through one-handed typing. The emails may take longer to compose, but Mallory is at peace this way, so there’s no way I’m letting her go.
I don’t ever want to let her go.
After an hour, and only three emails, I close the computer and set it aside, then release her hand so I can use the restroom and order some food. When I return, Mallory is still sleeping peacefully, just where I left her.
I hope the nightmares are gone for a long, long while.
Chapter Nine
~Mallory~
I’m thirsty, and I have to pee, right now.
I throw the covers aside, and without opening my eyes more than slits, walk into the bathroom and sit on the toilet.
When I’m done, I wash my hands and ladle some water from the tap into my mouth, dry off, and march back to bed.
And see Beau, sitting on the bed, watching me with an amused smile.
I stop short and stare at him for several seconds.
“Am I still dreaming?”
“If you are, I am too,” he says. “How are you?”
“Thirsty,” I reply and climb back into bed, frowning as I realize what I’m wearing. “I don’t remember putting this on.”
“That’s because you were conked out when I put it on you.”
I sigh and don’t argue at all when he urges me to lay my head on his leg. He pushes his fingers through my hair, and I smile, remembering the dreams I had of him.
At least, I think they were dreams.
“Did you come to the door today?” I ask.