Make You Remember

by Macy Beckett

  “Wait!” Devyn shouted. “Sit back down! Beau’s on his way. Give him a few more minutes!”

  Beau’s father had the decency to pause while the other guests scurried around him and out the door. He gestured at his girlfriend’s bulbous belly as if to say, She can’t take these hard pews any longer, then gave an apologetic wave and left.

  “No,” Devyn whispered to herself. “Let’s sing one more—”

  “Miss Mauvais,” the priest interrupted. His eyes were round with sympathy when she faced him. “Can I speak with you, please?”

  She spun toward the group and held up both palms. “Everyone stay put!” Then she hitched up her gown and jogged up the steps to the altar. “Father, I know this looks bad. But I promise that—”

  “Child, I’m sorry,” he said with a shake of his gray head. “I have to release the congregation. If the groom has been detained, I can marry you another day.”

  “Please,” she began until noise from behind distracted her. Devyn turned to find that half the assembly had snuck out while her back was turned. Each time a guest left their pew, it seemed to spur two more into action, and within seconds, only a few people remained.

  Ironically, Jenny and Slade were among the last to leave. They stood in unison, and when Devyn locked eyes with her nemesis, her stomach turned heavy. She’d expected Jenny to gloat or laugh—at least to deliver her signature sneer—but her expression was thick with pity. She held up a hand and mouthed the word sorry before turning and following the others.

  That’s when Devyn’s vision finally blurred with tears. She could handle Jenny’s cruelty—it’d always been a sign that the girl was threatened by her—but not sympathy.

  Anything but that.

  Soon the only people who remained were Allie, Marc, and the priest. Nobody spoke for the longest time. Devyn stood at the altar, staring at her bouquet of orange and red daisies. The logical part of her brain told her to leave—that Beau wasn’t coming. But her heart begged her to stay. Even after two hours of practically holding her guests hostage, she still believed he would come.

  Maybe she was a fool.

  “Hon,” Allie said. “Father Durand needs to lock up.” She held out a hand. “Come with me. I want you to stay at our place tonight.”

  A tear slipped down Devyn’s cheek, and her voice cracked. “But I know he’s coming.”

  Marc’s eyes turned to slits. “You two go ahead to the house. I’m gonna track down my brother. Whether or not I let him live remains to be seen.”

  A breath hitched inside Devyn’s chest, turning to a sob when she realized there was nothing more she could do. She wasn’t going to get married tonight. Nodding in defeat, she tossed her bouquet to the floor and strode away from the altar. Allie met her in the aisle and wrapped her in a hug.

  Marc patted her back and started to speak, but he cut off when the noise of sirens approached. The wail grew progressively louder until red and blue lights flashed through the church’s windows. Then the rear doors busted open with a clunk and an enormous man bolted inside the sanctuary.

  “Dev!” he shouted. “Thank God you’re still here!”

  Devyn’s jaw dropped. She never would’ve recognized Beau if he hadn’t spoken first. He was soaked to the skin, his filthy uniform plastered to his body while mud caked his cheeks. If she looked closely, she could make out the imprint of an oak leaf stuck to his head.

  She wanted to ask what’d happened, but the joy of seeing him rendered her temporarily speechless. He hadn’t abandoned her—nothing else mattered.

  “Big electrical storm,” he panted, lumbering closer. “Knocked out all the phones. I had to evacuate the Belle in Mississippi. Then I borrowed a speedboat and made it to New Orleans.”

  A pair of young police officers followed him inside. One of them grinned and added, “We caught him trying to bust out the window in his car. It’s a good thing he had ID on him, otherwise, we’d have taken him in.”

  “An electrical storm?” Devyn repeated, bringing a hand to her breast. “You could have been killed.”

  “That’s what we told him,” said the second officer.

  Ignoring everyone but Devyn, Beau strode forward until he stood close enough for her to smell the cool, musty river on his clothes. He reached down and took her hand, his grip wet but firm. “Kitten,” he said, gazing at her as if nothing else existed. “I would die a thousand times before missing my chance to marry you.”

  Devyn’s eyes welled with fresh tears, but these were the happy kind. Careful not to ruin her mother’s dress, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the lips—the only spot not covered in mud.

  “You know,” Father Durand said from his place at the altar, “we have more than enough witnesses to perform the ceremony. . . .”

  Beau peered at her and smiled. “What do you say? I know I’m not much to look at, but if you don’t mind—”

  “But nothing,” Devyn said, matching his grin. “You’re the most breathtaking groom I’ve ever seen, and I can’t wait to be your wife. Let’s get married!”

  Chapter 20

  With her face glowing and framed by dark curls, Devyn was so beautiful that Beau had a hard time catching his breath. A tiny smudge of mascara shadowed her eyes, proof that he’d made her cry, and he longed to wipe away the evidence with his thumb. But since his hands were muddy, he stroked her palm and gazed at her with all the love in his heart—which was nearly more than he could contain.

  “If it is your intent to enter into marriage,” the priest said, “declare your consent before God and His church.”

  That was Beau’s cue. “I, Beau Christopher Dumont, take you, Devyn Rebecca Mauvais, to be my wife.” No words had ever tasted as sweet. “I promise to be faithful to you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, and to honor you for all the days of my life.”

  When she repeated the vow, Beau feared that the joy expanding beneath his breastbone might literally burst him at the seams. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such happiness, but he was grateful all the same.

  Minutes later, Marc reached into his breast pocket and handed over a simple band of white gold. Devyn must have picked it out on her own, because they hadn’t had a chance to visit the jeweler together. The engagement ring he’d given her—the one she’d given back—was tucked beneath a stack of socks in his top dresser drawer. He couldn’t wait to put it back on her hand. In the meantime, Beau slipped the dainty wedding band on her finger and said, “Take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.”

  Devyn did the same, adorning his dirty finger with a band of gleaming metal. It was a damned fine sight, and he imagined his face would be beaming if it weren’t buried beneath a layer of muck.

  Finally came the moment Beau had been waiting for—the pronouncement: verbal proof that he and Devyn belonged to each other.

  The priest gave them a wide smile. “Insomuch as Devyn and Beau have consented to live together in holy matrimony, having promised their love for each other with these vows, I declare that they are husband and wife.” Then he bent at the waist and said to Beau, “Congratulations. You may kiss your bride.”

  Beau’s first instinct was to embrace his wife and kiss her into next week, but he didn’t want to stain her dress. It was all Devyn had left of her mother. So he tipped Devyn’s chin with one finger and lightly brushed her lips while applause broke out from their meager audience.

  “Go change out of that gown, Mrs. Dumont,” he whispered against her mouth. “Then I’ll give you a proper kiss.”

  “It’s a deal, Mr. Dumont,” she whispered back. “And by the way, there’s a set of clean clothes for you in the groom’s dressing room.”

  Thank God for Devyn’s meticulous planning, because Beau’s uniform was beginning to feel like a wetsuit of crushed ice. “I wish I’d known that before the ceremony.”

  Devyn shook her head. “I wasn’t letting you out of my sight until we said I do. Now you can change.”

  Marc pip
ed up, wearing a smile that oozed mischief. “Not yet. I want photographic evidence that I wasn’t the ugliest groom in Dumont family history.”

  Allie gasped, then smacked her husband on the arm.

  “Can’t argue with that,” Beau said. Chuckling, he stood near Devyn and posed for a photo. “I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the car window back in New Orleans. It’s a wonder the cops didn’t shoot me on sight.”

  The officers laughed, and after they agreed to stay for cake, Beau reluctantly parted from Devyn to change clothes. He hated to be away from her, so he made it quick—scrubbing his face and hands in the sink, then shucking off his wet uniform in favor of the pressed suit she’d brought over from his place. He still didn’t resemble a proper groom, but if Beau had his way, his clothes would adorn the floor of a hotel suite within the hour.

  When he met Devyn in the fellowship hall, she was filling two cups of punch for the officers. She wore jeans and a pink T-shirt with BRIDE printed across her chest, and she’d removed the veil but kept her curls pinned in place so they spilled gradually around her cheeks. Beau leaned against the doorjamb for a moment and simply took her in, all smiles and warmth and laughter.

  He couldn’t believe she was his.

  As if she sensed him watching, Devyn glanced over her shoulder. An instant smile appeared on her lips, and she ran toward him with outstretched arms. He pulled her tightly against his chest to savor her soft curves. Suddenly, something deep inside clicked into place, making him whole when he hadn’t even realized he was lacking. Beau filled his lungs with her scent of honeysuckle, and then he gave her the kiss she deserved—deep and thorough with a passion that wasn’t fit for polite company.

  It didn’t take long for objections to arise from the peanut gallery.

  “Aw, come on,” Marc said. “There’s a priest here, for Crissakes.” His wife elbowed him hard in the ribs, so he crossed himself while tipping his head in apology to Father Durand. “Sorry, Father.”

  The old man checked his watch. “You’re forgiven, but perhaps we should cut the cake. I’m running late for an anointing at the hospital.”

  “Oh,” Devyn said, taking Beau’s hand and leading him toward the cake. “I almost forgot.”

  Allie snapped pictures while they fed each other a bite of red velvet cake. Beau had never liked the act of “smashing,” so he slid his fork carefully between Devyn’s parted lips, and she did the same. Afterward, Marc lifted his champagne flute in a toast.

  “To my big brother and his beautiful bride,” he said with a genuine smile. “Beau, we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I want you to know that I’m proud to call you my friend. You’re a good man, and you’re going to make an even better husband. Devyn, welcome to the family. We’re a crazy bunch, but we love you, and I promise that life with us will never be boring.”

  “I can confirm that,” Allie added.

  Beau’s heart warmed. It was hard to believe that this time last year, he hadn’t been on speaking terms with his brother. So much had changed, and he was thankful for that, too.

  “To Devyn and Beau,” Marc said.

  The rest of the group echoed his words, and the clinking of crystal followed. Allie cut a slice of cake for everyone, and within minutes, each plate was clean. The police officers were the first to go. They shook Beau’s hand and kissed Devyn’s cheek, then congratulated them and left to resume their patrol.

  Devyn presented a small wrapped gift to the priest and promised to lock the fellowship hall. The man offered a quick prayer of benediction and said good-bye, leaving Allie and Marc as their last remaining guests.

  “You two get the honeymoon started,” Allie said. “We’ll handle the cleanup.”

  “Take my car.” Marc tossed his keys across the room. “We’ll make do with Allie’s until you guys get back.”

  Beau wasn’t going to argue with that. After a round of hugs, he scooped Devyn into his arms and carried her to the door. Just when they reached the threshold, she stopped him and made one last request of her sister.

  “Hey, do me a favor and run an announcement in the Cedar Bayou Gazette with our wedding picture, then mail a clipping to Jenny Hore. She’d better not be nice to me the next time our paths cross.”

  Beau didn’t understand that last bit, but he didn’t spend another second dwelling on it. He carried Devyn into the parking lot, and before you could say Just Married, they were on the main road leading to the highway.

  “Where to?” he asked. “The airport? The moon? I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

  Devyn leaned to the side, resting her head on his shoulder. “I made reservations for us in Baton Rouge.”

  “Nice.” They could make the drive in a little over an hour. “I’m glad we’re honeymooning on dry land. I’ve had my fill of the water.”

  “Hurry up and get us there,” she whispered in his ear. “Because I want my fill of you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Beau found the interstate and laid rubber. “My wife gets what she wants.”

  • • •

  It was all Devyn could do to keep her hands to herself at the check-in counter and then the elevator to their suite on the third floor. During the drive to Baton Rouge, a gradual longing had settled in her bones until she couldn’t think of anything except Beau inside her, making them one flesh. She’d never needed him so desperately, and the instant he opened the door, she started pulling off his suit jacket.

  “Hold up,” he said, extending a hand to keep her in the hallway. “I want to do this right.” He swept her into his arms and carried her across the threshold, then kicked the door shut. “There,” he murmured against her mouth while setting her down. “Now feel free to rip off my clothes.”

  She accepted his invitation, peeling off both of their shirts. When she went to work on his trousers, he stopped her.

  “I need a shower,” he said. “Want to join me?”

  By way of answer, she stripped naked and led the way into the bathroom. Moments later, they were standing beneath a steaming spray, locked at the lips while Devyn soaped him up in all her favorite places.

  She imagined how she must look, with mascara running down her face and her updo ruined, but she didn’t give it a second thought. Instead, she ran her palms over her husband’s chiseled chest, down his flat abdomen, over his muscular thighs, and finally to the powerful erection pressed to her belly.

  She grasped him at the base and stroked him hard enough to draw a groan of pleasure from his throat. A new desire overtook her, this time to taste him. After rinsing the soap from his body, Devyn sank to her knees and took him fully into her mouth in one brisk motion that had him gasping out loud. Tipping back his head, Beau braced himself against the tile wall and let her take what she needed. She licked and sucked, working him with each long slide of her lips, savoring the sweetness of his skin and the salty beads of arousal rising to his tip until he made her stop.

  “No more,” he ordered, and tugged her to standing. His eyes were heavy with lust, but there was something else there: the same all-consuming need that burned her from the inside out. They’d made love many times before, but this was different.

  Bigger, somehow.

  He took one of her breasts in his palm, then lowered to draw her nipple deep into his mouth. She felt the pull of each wet tug directly between her legs, and he must have known it, because he used two fingers to sate the ache, slipping and sliding over her sensitive flesh before dipping inside to tease her until she throbbed.

  Beau growled with desire and pushed his shaft between the slick passage of her upper thighs. “God, Dev. I want you right now, but our first time shouldn’t be in the shower.”

  Releasing a soft laugh, she hitched a leg around his hip, then took him in her hand and guided his plump head inside her. Her toes curled at the sensation, and she strained to take him deeper. “Baby, our first time was more than a decade ago, right on the riverbank where anyone could’ve caught us.”

  “I remember,” he
said, and inched deeper. “I wanted to take you somewhere private, but you were so wet, and you felt so damned good that I couldn’t tell whether I was coming or going.”

  “Mmm.” She recalled the sensation all too well. “We couldn’t stop.”

  “Like now.”

  “Just like now.”

  Beau rocked into her one luscious inch at a time, and with a final upward glide, he filled her completely. They shared a low groan and locked eyes. In that moment, they were so connected in body and spirit that Devyn couldn’t tell where her flesh ended and his began. It was a new emotion—beautiful and so strong that her rib cage hurt.

  “I love you,” Beau said while he held her hips between his massive palms and pulled out to the tip. She wanted to tell him the same, but when he thrust impossibly deeper, all she could do was make an embarrassing mewling sound. “And I love that noise,” he added with a primal rotation of hips that sent her eyes rolling back. “Make it again, Kitten.”

  She didn’t have to try. With each rhythmic stroke, each slow grind, a chorus of animalistic sounds arose from her lips. In desperation, she reached out blindly for traction so she could move with him, but her wet fingers slid off the tile. So she sank her fingernails into Beau’s shoulders and panted while he rocked into her so slowly she feared her knees might buckle. Then he held her gaze and quickened the tempo, deepening his thrusts and driving her toward the edge. Soon her lower back was pressed against the wall as he slammed into her, one loud clap of flesh and then another filling the steamy room.

  Sweet pressure built between Devyn’s legs, increasing until she sobbed with mingled agony and bliss. Beau held inside her to gyrate his hips, and the pain burst into spasms of ecstasy. She came so hard that her vision went black for a moment, and when she focused again, it was to the sight of Beau’s green eyes on her. She saw complete adoration there when he bucked against her one final time and let go.