Make You Remember

by Macy Beckett

  “I guess.”

  “Then maybe give Dave a break. Maybe give your mom one, too. Starting a brand-new family is kind of hard, and they’re going to need your help—especially as the big brother. William looks to you as an example. If you treat your step-dad like a friend, he’ll do the same.” She nudged him with her elbow. “What do you think?”

  Jason peeked up with understanding in his eyes. “Yeah, I guess I can do that.”

  “Good,” she told him. “That’s the best wedding present you could give your mom.” Devyn threw a glance at Will. “Now let’s peel your brother off the Nintendo and set up an experiment.”

  Jason grinned up at her. “First, can we implode another Coke can?”

  “You bet.” Then she added the usual disclaimer, “As long as you explain the science behind it.”

  “I can do that in my sleep,” he boasted. Then he said something that melted Devyn’s heart. “’Cause you’re a real good teacher.”

  • • •

  “Thanks for taking such good care of the boys,” Jason’s mother said at pick-up. “It’s like I get my own class every night because they can’t stop talking about what they learned. I wish they were this excited about school back home.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” And Devyn meant every word. She’d grown to enjoy her time in the center—the light of discovery in the children’s eyes, and the increasing admiration behind their smiles. A couple of the students had even pilfered flowers from the lobby vases to give her each morning, which touched her more deeply than she wanted to admit. “See you tomorrow.”

  As she waved good-bye and began tidying the room, a fierce warmth glowed beneath Devyn’s breastbone. It had been such a long time since she’d felt the sensation that it took her a few moments to identify what it was—pride.

  She smiled to herself and studied the hand-drawn maps the children had made that afternoon, each stop along the Mississippi labeled according to nineteenth-century trade. Will’s depiction of a beaver pelt looked more like a Brillo Pad, but at least he’d understood the significance of fur as currency.

  She was good at this. Really good. And more than that, she liked it.

  The cell phone vibrated in Devyn’s pocket, interrupting her reverie. She didn’t recognize the incoming number and hesitated before answering.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi,” said a man’s voice. “It’s Warren Larabee.”

  Instantly, the glow inside Devyn’s chest morphed into a chill of dread. She’d been so distracted lately that she had forgotten about the job that awaited her back home.

  “Miss Mauvais?” he asked when she didn’t respond. “Is this a bad time?”

  “Not at all,” she said with a manufactured smile. “I just finished my shift, so your timing is perfect.”

  “Good. I wanted to run something past you real quick.” Warren launched into a spiel about the graveyard tour and how excited the team was to script a reenactment of Memère’s botched wedding day. “Juliette was jilted at the altar by a local, right?” Warren asked. “Edward Dumont? He’s buried at the same cemetery.”

  “Yes,” Devyn said. “Then she cursed his line so the men in that family would never find lasting love.”

  “Uh-huh. The team wants to know if you have anything of hers that we can use for authenticity.” He paused for a beat as if talking with his hands. “Her wedding dress or her veil, maybe. A bridal portrait would be nice. You’d be surprised how much an artifact can add to the spooky mood during a haunted tour.”

  Devyn swallowed a lump of shame. Just thinking about putting her great-great-grandmother’s personal articles on display to “add to the spooky mood” made her want to take a shower. She couldn’t believe she was even having this conversation.

  “Miss Mauvais? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking,” she said. “Let me check with my sister and get back to you. She has most of our family heirlooms in storage at her place.” The second part was true, but Devyn had no intention of giving Larabee Amusements anything that belonged to Memère. “I’ll call you as soon as I know.”

  They disconnected and Devyn exhaled a heavy breath.

  “Who was that?”

  She whirled around to find Beau watching her through the open door. Right away, he pushed both palms forward and disclaimed, “I wasn’t eavesdropping.”

  Sure, he wasn’t. “Then why do you care who I was talking to?”

  “Because I heard you mention my family’s curse.” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “That’s not typical small talk, even for you.”

  “In other words, you were eavesdropping.”

  “Don’t split hairs,” he said. “Who was on the phone?”

  “No one you know.”

  Beau grumbled under his breath. “It was Mercedes Man, wasn’t it?”

  “Who?”

  “You know,” he said, waving a hand. “The guy who drove you here on the first day.”

  In the span of two seconds, Beau’s features hardened while a set of creases played across his forehead. If Devyn didn’t know better, she’d think he was jealous. “His name is Warren, and if you must know, yes, that was him on the phone.”

  Twin brows formed a slash above Beau’s green eyes. “Who’s this guy to you?”

  Devyn bit back a smile. “Oh, my God. You are jealous.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It was just a question.”

  She drew a breath to tell him it was none of his concern, but that didn’t seem entirely true anymore. Devyn didn’t know how to label her relationship with Beau—they weren’t quite friends, and they weren’t quite lovers—but something had grown between them. To the point that she wanted to admit the truth because his unease fed her own.

  “I’m not involved with Warren,” she said. “He’s my boss.”

  Beau didn’t seem to like that any better. “I’m your boss.”

  She laughed at his reaction. “That’s a stretch, and this is only temporary.”

  “Since when do you work for this guy?”

  “Technically, I haven’t started yet.”

  “What’s the job?”

  Devyn’s lips parted in silence. The answer was easy enough, but she couldn’t manage to shake it off her tongue. Some secret part of her feared Beau’s judgment, and there was no doubt he would disapprove. He would tell her this was another dead-end job and that she was floundering. She didn’t want to hear it—the truth hurt.

  “That bad, huh?” he asked, arms folded.

  She deflected with a casual shrug. “Well, I’m not shooting a porno.”

  “Good to know. Sex tapes are bad news.” He grinned. “Unless you want to make one with me, because we’d keep it to ourselves. Then I’m cool with it.”

  “Naturally.” She found herself smiling. “I’ll bet you’d even supply the camera.”

  “The tripod, too. Just say the word.” Beau crossed the padded floor until he’d invaded her personal space, but she didn’t back away. She didn’t want to. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Talk to me, Kitten. I can tell you’re not happy about this job.”

  She blinked up at Beau. He was so strong and steady and in control. For the first time in her life, she wished she could be more like him. “Nobody’s happy with their jobs. That’s why we call it a job.”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “Okay, fine,” she said. “I hate it. You happy now?”

  “Thrilled,” he said sarcastically. “Why do you keep dodging the question?”

  “Because the last thing I need is another lecture from you about my future.”

  She expected him to get defensive, but instead Beau nodded solemnly and said, “No lectures. I’ll just listen.”

  “You mean that?”

  “I promise.”

  Devyn narrowed one eye at him, and when he didn’t falter, she took a deep breath and told him everything. She included each mortifying detail, from selling her “little trinkets”
in a shop near the graveyard to Warren’s recent request for her great-great-grandmother’s personal effects. She unloaded all of her frustrations, and when she was finished, she felt a little bit lighter.

  Beau didn’t say anything at first. Then he smoothed a gentle hand over her hair. “I can understand why you’re upset. You’ve always taken a lot of pride in your family’s legacy.”

  She waited for him to go on, but he didn’t. She made an And? motion with one hand.

  “That’s it,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re in this position.”

  “Really?” she asked. She couldn’t believe that he had no advice and no condescension for her. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

  “Yep.”

  Beau was actually being supportive and listening. She hadn’t seen that coming. “Thanks for lending an ear.”

  “Any time,” he said, picking up a hand puppet from the floor and tossing it into the nearest toy bin. “Hey, I was about to grab some dinner and take it back to the security room. Want to join me? I’ve got the night shift, and it gets awfully quiet in there by myself.” He played it cool and tucked both hands in his pockets, but the expectant way he looked at her betrayed how badly he craved her company.

  About as badly as she craved his.

  Devyn chewed her bottom lip. She knew full well what would happen if she put herself behind a closed door with Beau. History would repeat itself. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t tell him no. “Sounds great,” she said. “I’m starved.”

  Chapter 9

  Beau was no idiot.

  He knew when to keep his trap shut, and this was one of those times. As he followed Devyn along the staff room buffet line, he filled his plate with an assortment of savory sides and resisted the urge to tell her that leading ghost tours was the worst fucking idea he’d ever heard. A blind man could see that traipsing around in a graveyard was a waste of Devyn’s God-given talent. What she really needed was a satisfying career where she could grow, not another short-term job.

  But getting Devyn to admit that would take finesse.

  So he bit his tongue and feigned interest in a vat of smothered chicken breasts, at least grateful that Mercedes Man wasn’t a boyfriend. Then Devyn dropped her napkin and bent to pick it up, and all thoughts of cemetery tours vanished. Beau stood there absently holding the bread tongs as he admired the long, tanned legs on display beneath her khaki skirt¸ not to mention the slope of her gorgeous ass.

  Damn, he’d love to sink his teeth into those firm cheeks.

  She stood and pointed to the bread basket. “Those buns look delicious.”

  “Oh, honey,” Beau said, plunking one onto her plate. “They’re downright mouthwatering.”

  Balancing her plate on one arm, she glanced at the desserts, then across the room at the drink station. “How are we going to carry all this to the casino?”

  Beau scanned the room until he found a serving tray. “I’ll take our dinners upstairs. See if you can snag another tray from the galley for the rest.”

  “What do you want to drink?” she asked.

  “Iced tea.”

  “And for dessert?”

  Your sweet buns. “Pecan pie, I guess.”

  While Beau arranged their supper on the tray and covered them with stainless steel domes, Marc ambled up with a glass of Coke in hand. Marc was still on duty in a freshly pressed captain’s uniform, his hair smoothed into a low ponytail that made Beau want to offer him a Midol and a subscription to Cosmo.

  “Hungry much?” asked Marc, pointing at the plates. “It’s a miracle we turn a profit with you on board.”

  “Half of that is mine,” Devyn said. “Though you have a point. I’ve never seen anyone pack it away like your brother.”

  “Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Marc said to Devyn. “Everyone’s raving about your lessons in the education center. Keep up the good work.”

  Devyn stood an inch straighter and grinned. “Thanks.”

  Changing the subject, Marc leveled a challenging gaze at Beau. “So where are you two gonna eat?”

  Beau bristled at the question. It was none of his brother’s business where he ate, or with whom. “Does it matter?”

  “Not really,” Marc said with a shrug. “Just wondering if I should send Allie to your suite in twenty minutes so she can turn the hose on you two.” He kept his tone casual, but arched one brow in a message that he knew what was brewing between Beau and his ex.

  Devyn grumbled and tossed a handful of napkins onto the tray. “Allie has a big mouth.”

  “She’s my wife,” Marc said. “We tell each other everything.”

  “Everything?” Beau asked. “Even how I caught Nora trying to sneak into your room a few weeks ago?”

  Devyn spun on Marc. “Who the hell is Nora?”

  “And old girlfriend of Marc’s,” Beau told her. “Red hair, legs up to here.”

  “She was not my girlfriend!” When Marc’s shout drew a few curious gazes, he lowered his voice to a hiss. “She was a booty call, and barely that. There was no reason to tell Allie. It would only upset her, and now that Nora knows I’m married, she’ll back off.”

  “Slippery slope, Captain,” Beau said.

  “Mind your own damn business.”

  Beau smiled. “Gladly. If you’ll do the same.”

  Clearly Beau had made his point. Marc fired a glare at him and stalked away.

  “Well, that was awkward,” Devyn said, tucking a couple of forks between their plates. “I’m going to run to the galley for another tray. And to remind my sister that loose lips sink ships.”

  “Sounds good.” Beau bent to whisper in Devyn’s ear. “But don’t tell her about the redhead. Marc’s a cantankerous bastard, but he’s only got eyes for Allie, and I don’t want to make trouble. He really did read Nora the riot act when she snuck on board. She won’t come back.”

  Devyn smiled up at him with an admiring gleam in her gaze, like she was proud of him. Either that or he had something between his teeth and she thought it was funny.

  Beau scrubbed a finger over his front enamel. “What?”

  “You’re a halfway decent brother, you know that?”

  A soft laugh shook his chest. “I know a few folks who would tell you otherwise.”

  “Whatever.” She gave his shoulder a nudge. “Go ahead to the casino. I’ll meet you there in a few.”

  “Remember,” he said. “Iced tea and—”

  “Pecan pie,” she called over her shoulder. “No worries, Dumont. I know what you like.”

  “No doubt about that,” he mumbled to himself while watching her skirt-clad rear end sashay out of sight. He blew out a breath and cradled their dinner tray in one arm, then made his way to the casino’s security room.

  When he opened the door, Nicky was kicked back in the swiveling office chair studying the live feed on the flat-screen. “Hey,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed on footage of the roulette table.

  “How goes it?”

  Nicky offered a noncommittal grunt. “I’ve been eagle-eyeing this guy, and I can’t find anything wrong.”

  Beau set his dinner tray on a tiny folding table near the computers, careful to keep a safe distance from the expensive equipment. “Patience, little brother.” Part of Beau’s job as casino manager was keeping track of each table’s income. Mathematical probability ensured a predictable payout for each one, and if there was a significant change in earnings, he needed to figure out why. The roulette wheel had generated a lot less loot in the past few days, and Beau suspected one of the staffers was skimming off the top. “Everything’s recorded. Sooner or later, he’ll slip up.”

  Nicky stood from the chair and stretched, rubbing his lower back. He glanced at the two covered plates and used his eyes to issue a silent question.

  “Dev’s keeping me company,” Beau said. And before his brother could warn him, he added, “Marc already knows, so if he seems pissier than usual tonight, that’s why. Probably best not to poke the bear.�
��

  Nick took a moment to study him before saying, “You’re really into Devyn, huh?”

  Beau saw no reason to deny it. “Always have been.”

  “Oh,” Nick said, cringing a little. “I thought she was an old fling, nothing more.”

  Beau narrowed one eye at Nicky. The last time he’d seen this much guilt cross his brother’s face, Nick had used the pantry to hook up with a server and spilled the last bottle of pure Mexican vanilla in the process. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing,” Nick said a bit too quickly. “Didn’t lay a hand on her.” He backed toward the door. “I’ll make sure nobody bothers you two tonight.” And in a flash, he was gone.

  Didn’t lay a hand on her. That meant Nicky had swung and struck out. Beau decided that Devyn was right—he was a good brother. Because he’d decided to let Nicky keep his balls.

  Beau shrugged out of his dress jacket, already overheated in the cramped space. He stood before the one-way glass and watched the casino floor come alive with guests trickling in from the dining hall. Nobody outside the family knew it, but Beau had tweaked the evening entertainment schedule so passengers had forty minutes of downtime before the theater shows began. About half the guests used the lull to return to their cabins or grab an after-dinner drink. The other half had migrated into the casino. That one small adjustment had increased their income by enough to replace all the outdoor furniture next season.

  Not too shabby, if he did say so himself.

  He spotted Devyn on the floor and his stomach jumped, exactly like it used to do each time he’d caught a glimpse of her in high school. He shook his head in disbelief. Between the marines and his private contract work, ten lifetimes worth of adrenaline had traveled through his veins, but nothing stirred him the way Devyn did.

  She worked her way through the crowd with a smile, allowing guests the right of way and occasionally glancing at the mirror behind the bar as if she sensed him watching. Though she couldn’t see him, Beau found himself smiling at her. His dinner invitation had been a total Hail Mary. He couldn’t believe she’d actually said yes, not after the distance she’d put between them since their botched lovemaking. His grin widened in anticipation the closer she strode toward the bar, but his mouth turned down when a familiar man snagged her by the elbow.