Easy Magic

  “Few people are hurt the way Van was,” she replies. Our sister, Savannah, was brutally abused by her ex-husband.

  “So what is it?”

  “I’m not telling you,” she says, shaking her head. “This is hers to tell, and she will.”

  “Why are you even bringing this up?”

  “Because I love you. And I really like her. I like her for you.”

  “Charly, we’ve only been on one date.”

  “But the chemistry is there,” she says, speaking it aloud before I can. “All I’m trying to say is, if you don’t see things with Mallory going long-term, if you’re just trying to get into her pants, let her down now rather than later.”

  “We’ve been on one date,” I remind her again. “I’m not ready to pop the question.”

  “No, but you’re a smart man, Beau. You know already if this is someone you actually have an affection for, or if you just want to fuck her seven ways to Sunday.”

  “Such a lady,” I mutter, not entirely comfortable having this conversation with my own sister.

  “Have you talked to her?”

  “No. It’s been a busy week at the office.”

  “But you sent her flowers,” she says with a smile.

  “Yes.”

  “What did the card say?”

  I narrow my eyes at my sister and consider ignoring this question altogether, but she’ll just keep bugging the shit out of me until I tell.

  “Do you like me, check yes or no.”

  She blinks rapidly, then dissolves into a fit of giggles.

  “Oh my God, Beau. Are you seven?”

  “I think it’s funny.”

  “You’re the COO of a billion dollar corporation and you sent her that card?”

  “I’m a human being,” I reply. “And she’ll think it’s funny.”

  “Well, I bet she hasn’t received a note like that since grade school.” She shakes her head, tossing me a smile full of humor. “You’ll have to let me know how she replies.”

  “No way.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re nosy.” I reach across the table and tap her nose. “And it’s none of your business.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  ***

  I want to see her. Right now.

  On my way home from the office, I step into her shop rather than go upstairs. It’s only a few minutes before closing, and the store is empty of patrons.

  In fact, I don’t see anyone here at all when I first walk in.

  Her shop is small, but cute. Not cramped. She’s made it feel homey with burning candles and a plate of cookies out for her customers. I take one of the peanut butter and pop the whole thing in my mouth.

  Delicious.

  “I thought I heard someone come in,” Mallory says and I spin around and almost choke on the cookie at the sight of her.

  Her red hair is twisted up again, and I want nothing more than to shake it loose and brush my fingers through it.

  “Your cookies are delicious.” I brush the crumbs off my fingers. “Did you make them?”

  “No, Lena’s grandmother made them,” she says with a smile. “They’re supposed to bring you luck.”

  “Really?”

  She just folds her hands at her waist, as if she’s not sure what to do with them, and continues to smile at me. Then she jumps and holds her finger up.

  “Oh! Hold on, I have something for you.” She disappears into her office for a moment, then comes back holding a little white card out for me.

  “You checked yes,” I murmur, suddenly embarrassed for sending this to her.

  “I did. And I’m going to need that back, please.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m keeping it forever,” she says, as if I should have just known that. “I waited almost thirty years for a boy to send me this note.”

  “Well, then, here you go.” I pass it back to her and she tucks it in the back pocket of her black jeans. “Do you have plans tonight?”

  “I have a date with a tub of ice cream and my television.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I can compete with that, but I’d like to take you somewhere.”

  Her eyebrows climb into her hairline. “Back to your house?”

  I smile, remembering how great it was to see her in my place. She looked at home there, and I wanted to boost her up against the wall and make her scream my name.

  “Unfortunately, not tonight. Somewhere else.”

  “I suppose the ice cream can wait.” She grins. “Shall we go now? I was about to close anyway.”

  “Perfect.”

  She gathers her things, locks the door, and turns to me. “Now what?”

  “We’re going to walk,” I reply and take her hand in mine, satisfied that the stiffness that usually comes with physical contact is brief. She squeezes my fingers. “Have you been to The Odyssey?”

  “Several times.” She nods happily. “Charly, Van, Kate, and I go there for happy hour sometimes.”

  “Well, Declan is playing there tonight. I thought we could listen to him for a bit.”

  “I’ve never heard him,” Mallory says. “I’d love to listen. I hear he’s great.”

  “That he is.”

  “Do you have musical talent too?” She smiles up at me as I open the door to The Odyssey for her.

  “No, ma’am. Declan got all of that talent in the family.”

  We weave our way through the tall tables and chairs. It’s busy, but not packed, at least not yet.

  When we reach the bar, Callie, the owner of the bar and Declan’s wife, runs out to greet us.

  “This is a sweet surprise,” she says and hugs Mallory tightly.

  Mallory doesn’t stiffen, or give any indication that she’s uncomfortable at all. Which makes me think again that she must have been hurt at some point by a man. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

  “What are y’all doing in here?” Callie asks.

  “Beau suggested we come in to listen to Declan,” Mallory says.

  “I’m so glad you did,” Callie replies and waves at Declan, who is on the stage checking the sound. He climbs down and walks over to us. “Declan, this is my friend Mallory.”

  “We’ve met,” he says and offers his hand to Mallory who pauses for just a moment before shaking it. “How is the flood?”

  “Gone, thank goodness,” Mallory says. “We caught it fast enough that it didn’t do too much damage.”

  “Good.” Declan smiles and wraps his arm around Callie’s shoulders. “Are you sticking around for the set?”

  “We are,” I reply.

  “So, I’m sorry to be so blunt, but that’s just me,” Callie says with a smile. “Are y’all on a date?”

  Mallory glances up at me and cocks a brow, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “If it needs a label, then I guess so,” I reply.

  “Oh, that’s so great!” Callie smiles widely and hugs Mallory again. “Oh, and I can’t wait for our girls’ night!”

  Mallory quickly glances up at me, and then says, “Which is for girls only, and the guys don’t get to know what we’re doing.”

  “Is it a state secret?” I ask and tuck her soft hair behind her ear. My god, I can’t stop touching her. I want to explore every inch of her.

  “It’s girls’ night,” Callie replies, as if that explains it all.

  “We could tell you, but then we’d have to kill you,” Mal adds.

  “You won’t even give me just a hint?”

  “No.” Mal shakes her head, but the smile on her beautiful lips says she’s enjoying this very much.

  “What if I demand that you tell me?”

  The girls glance at each other and then bust up laughing.

  “You’re not the boss of me,” Mal says, but takes my hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. “Sorry. But not sorry.”

  ***

  “He’s amazing,” Mallory says as we walk back to her shop. Her hand is firmly in mine, and we??
?re enjoying the warm evening. With fall approaching, the weather is milder, making for comfortable evenings. “He has an incredible gift.”

  “He does.”

  “Has he always been interested in music?”

  “Definitely. We knew early on that Declan would never want to be a part of the family business. He needs to make music.”

  “How did your parents feel about that?”

  “They encouraged him. My father was adamant that we all do what we love.”

  “That’s great. Is he still with us?”

  “No.” I shove my free hand in my pocket to touch the coin I carry. “He died a few years ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says, frowning. We’ve made it to her store, but I’m not ready to say goodnight yet.

  “Come up with me for a while.”

  Her gaze whips up to mine.

  “I’m not ready to call it a night,” I add, hoping that she’ll agree. She bites her lip, but makes her decision quickly.

  “Okay.”

  She follows me up the stairs and into the flat. I turn on some music and unbutton the top button of my shirt, roll my sleeves, and kick out of my shoes.

  “Make yourself comfortable. Would you like some wine?”

  She smiles and drags her hand over the granite countertop, the same way she did at my house. “Sure.”

  Once the wine is poured, we sit on the couch turned toward each other, sipping our drinks. The silence is comfortable.

  I can’t help but reach out and drag my finger down her soft cheek.

  “You’re beautiful, Mallory,” I whisper.

  “Thank you.” She leans into my touch, her eyes closed, and sighs.

  “I like touching you.”

  “And I like it when you touch me.” Her eyes open now, and she gazes up at me. “I’m not used to that.”

  “You’re not used to being touched, or enjoying it?”

  “Both.” She takes a sip, and I suddenly want to tear whomever made her feel like this apart. “I’m an…odd woman, Beau.”

  “Well, we’re all a little odd, Mal.” I brush a stray piece of hair off her cheek.

  “That’s true, I guess.” She takes another sip and then puts her glass on the coffee table. “Beau?”

  “Yes, sugar.”

  “Are you ever going to kiss me again?”

  And just like that my cock is at full attention. But I just set my glass next to hers and turn to her, my elbow resting on the back of the couch.

  “I’d like to just settle this right now.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  I touch her lips with my fingertip, shushing her.

  “I plan to kiss you often, Mallory. I plan to do much more than that. I am quite taken with you.”

  “Oh.” She licks her lips and her violet eyes widen and dilate.

  “But I’m afraid that once I start I won’t be able to stop. I had to tear myself away from you in the weird room at my house.”

  “I like the weird room,” she whispers, still watching my lips.

  “I seem to be rather fond of it lately too.”

  She smiles and tentatively reaches out to touch my arm. I don’t say anything; I just wait, offering her a silent invitation to touch me. To feel safe to touch me.

  “I’m quite taken with you, too,” she says, lightly gliding her hand up to my shoulder. “Not just with how you look, although it’s something to write home about, but also with you.”

  God, she’s so fucking sweet.

  And I can’t wait any longer. I cup her cheek and lean in, nuzzle her nose with mine, and then kiss her. Lightly at first, just giving us each little tastes. She surprises me by burying her fingers in the hair on the back of my head and holding on for dear life as she takes the kiss from soft and sweet to a fucking inferno.

  Jesus, I want her.

  She’s pulling my hair as I guide her onto her back and cover her sweet, petite body with mine, resting between her legs, pressing my dick against her core, wishing our clothes would magically vanish.

  “So beautiful,” I murmur as I kiss down her jawline to her ear and then down her neck. She arches into me, her hand tightening.

  She likes having her neck kissed. So noted.

  She drags her foot up the back of my calf and plants it there. Everywhere she’s touching me is on fire.

  I need her.

  “Beau.”

  “Yes, sweetheart.” I kiss my way back to her lips and sink in for some quality time exploring her mouth. She’s sweet, seducing me to the very core with her touch, her warmth.

  “We’re wearing too many clothes.”

  I pull back and stare down at her. Her lips are a bit swollen, and her eyes are wide and shining with lust. Her chest is heaving as she breathes heavily, and she has a death grip on my ass.

  “I can rectify that.”

  I grin and push my hands under her silk blouse. Her skin is smooth and warm and the best thing I’ve ever touched in my life.

  I’m a mess, and I haven’t even seen her naked yet.

  “You’re moving awfully slowly,” she grumbles.

  “I’m savoring this,” I whisper and kiss her collarbone. “I’ll only ever get to see you naked for the first time once. I don’t want to rush it.”

  “You say the nicest things,” she says. “Do you always mean them?”

  I pause. “Of course I do. I told you before, this is not a game.”

  “I know. Forget I said anything. I’m just dumb with lust. All of my blood left my brain, and now I can’t stop talking—”

  I cover her mouth with mine, effectively shutting her up as I guide her blouse up, pull back to tug it over her head, and then resume kissing her as I brush my knuckles over her puckered nipple.

  “You’re so responsive.”

  “You’re sexy,” she says and tugs my shirt out of my pants.

  Suddenly, there’s a loud crash across the room, as a huge mirror falls and shatters.

  “Shit,” Mallory says, staring at the glass. “She didn’t like us kissing.”

  Chapter Six

  ~Mallory~

  “Who?” he demands, staring down at me, his breath coming quickly and eyes slowly losing the lust that just shone in them.

  “Miss Louisa,” I reply and sit up when he pulls away.

  Fuck me. For the first time ever, I was engrossed in a man and my own carnal feelings about him without being bombarded with his own thoughts. I didn’t even notice that Miss Louisa was in the room until the mirror broke.

  Which was her way of getting my attention.

  She’s glaring at me, and talking fast, but I’m not responding to her, and that only makes her angrier.

  I guess she doesn’t like to be ignored.

  “What are you talking about?” Beau says and pushes his fingers through his hair as he stands and retrieves a broom.

  “Could you wait to do that?” I ask and work on gathering my own thoughts. I’m still not acknowledging Miss Louisa, who’s finally fed up with being ignored and disappears altogether. I can’t feel her presence at all now, and I take a deep, cleansing breath.

  “That mirror has been on that wall as long as I can remember,” he murmurs and sits next to me again. “The nail must have given out.”

  “No.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and offer him a smile. “That’s not what happened.”

  “Your hands are shaking,” he says and takes them in his, kisses my knuckles, and pins me in his gaze. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “We agreed not to lie,” he says firmly.

  “You’re right.” I pull out of his touch and cross my arms over my chest, already distancing myself from him.

  He’s not going to like this. That’s not a guess, and I still can’t read him, but I know how most people in my life has reacted, and I don’t expect him to be any different.

  “Mal?”

  “I can see things,” I reply immediately. “That mirror didn’t fall because of a bad nail
.”

  His eyes narrow, and he sits back, unconsciously distancing himself, and a little piece of my heart breaks. I’m not ready for this to be over. I’m not ready to say goodbye to him.

  I feel like I’ve finally started to live a normal life since he came into it.

  “Why did it fall, Mal?”

  I love the way he says my name.

  “Because a ghost named Miss Louisa made it fall.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t,” I reply, suddenly frustrated. “You don’t see at all.”

  “Okay, tell me.” He leans toward me again, and I can’t stand the thought of him touching me right now so I stand, wrap my blouse around me, and begin to pace his living room. How did we suddenly go from about to make love to me explaining all about my crazy psychic abilities?

  “I’m not sure how much to say,” I reply honestly.

  “Tell me everything.”

  I stop and turn to look at him, memorizing every line of his face, the way his shirt fits over his amazingly sculpted body, and how he still has a bit of fondness for me in his whiskey eyes.

  “I’m the latest in a long line of women with paranormal abilities.” If I keep it sounding scientific, business-like, maybe it’ll come out easier. “As far back as we know, and we have records going back about eight hundred years, the women in my father’s lineage have been psychic, empathic, and/or mediums.”

  “Do they always have all of those abilities?” he asks, rubbing his fingertips along his chin, like he’s thinking about what I’m telling him.

  “Not always. Sometimes they’ve had one, or a combination of them. Sometimes they’ve had more, like being able to see the future, clairvoyance, and more scary things like being able to climb inside another person’s consciousness, and kill them.”

  He’s staring at me, his jaw tight, and I wish more than ever that I knew what he was thinking.

  “How many of those do you have?”

  “I’m an empath, I am clairvoyant, and I’m a medium.”

  “You see the dead.”

  I nod and fold my hands at my waist. “Hence, Miss Louisa throwing her little tantrum here tonight.”

  “Do you practice witchcraft?” he asks, which makes me smile. People who know little about psychic abilities often assume that witchcraft is linked to it.