by Lea Nolan
Taneea is perched on the couch facing Cooper, her legs tucked beneath her, leaning as close as possible without falling into his lap. At least she’s finally taken off those ridiculous boots.
Now I’m awake.
“You’re hilarious.” She swats his biceps.
“Uh, thanks.” Wedged against the end of the couch, his expression is a mixture of panic and pure horror.
“I know. He’s a total crack up. He’s always leaving me and my brother in stitches.” I cross my arms and give her the evil eye to clue her into the fact he’s my boyfriend and off-limits.
Cooper leaps off the cushion and bolts to my side. “Emma! How’d everything go in there?” He slips an arm around my waist and reaches for my hand, which I gladly grasp.
I smile extra-wide. “Great, as usual.” Hopefully.
“Ready to go, then?” His light blue eyes plead, letting me know this isn’t a request.
“Yeah, sure.” I stifle a yawn, a remnant of casting the Protective Shield.
“It was great to meet you, Taneea. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other this summer,” he says, ever the southern gentleman.
“I bet we will.” Her lips crack into a wicked grin as she twirls a pink curl around her finger. Peeling her eyes away from him she glances at me. “And you too, Emma.”
“Sure.” I stifle a snicker. As if she’s got a chance with Cooper. My Cooper. Not likely.
Turning toward the kitchen I pop open the kitchen door. “We’re leaving, Miss Delia. See you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything.”
She rolls her wheelchair into the living room. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve got my great-granddaughter here now. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
With a grunt, Taneea pushes off the couch and skulks toward one of the back rooms.
…
A half hour later, Cooper and I are sitting on the private beach at High Point Bluff, his family’s plantation, breathing in the balmy salt air. The late afternoon sun is idyllic as it shimmers off the teal-green water of St. Helena Sound. As usual, I’ve kicked off my flip-flops and dug my toes into the toasty sand, hunting for the cool, moist grains below the surface.
Cooper leans close and nuzzles my neck. “I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”
I snort. “Really? Cause it looked like you and Taneea were getting along so well.”
“It did?” He pulls back, his eyes fill with alarm.
“I’m kidding.”
He laughs; his spicy pine scent fills my nose as he plants a kiss behind my ear, sending a wave of tingles over my body. “Good, because I wouldn’t want to give her the wrong idea. I mean, she’s hot and all, but she’s definitely not my type.”
Wait. Did he just say she’s hot? As in…attractive?
I lean away. “You think she’s good-looking?” My brow knits.
“Well, sort of. In kind of a hot-mess sort of way.”
My heart seizes. “For real?”
He gulps. “Uh, yeah?” Only he sounds a whole lot less sure of himself now that he’s admitted it out loud. “I mean, her clothes and hair are all about attracting a guy’s attention and well, she does.”
I look down at my stone-colored twill shorts and scoop neck T-shirt. Boring. Then to my beat-up leather flip-flops. Even more boring. But they’re me. The wildest I ever get is a peasant blouse and bohemian skirt. I couldn’t pull off short shorts if I tried.
Staring out onto the Sound, I watch an osprey dive-bomb the water feet first, then ascend into the air with a fish clutched between its curved talons. I’m feeling about as optimistic as that trout.
He nudges me in the side with his elbow. “Hey, did you hear everything I said? She’s not my type.” He reaches his strong hand to stroke the side of my face. “You’re my girl, Emmaline,” he whispers in his sweet Lowcountry drawl.
Ah, there it is, finally. My real name. He’s the only one who uses it, except for my parents and that’s only when I’m in serious trouble, which is practically never. Brushing a long strand of strawberry-blonde hair off my face, he tucks it behind my ear as his powder-blue eyes search mine. “You always have been.”
My heart skips a beat. “Really?” My voice flutters as my knees turn to rubber. It’s a good thing I’m already sitting because otherwise, I’d collapse onto the sand.
He nods. “Yes.”
His lips graze mine and all my silly, stupid fears slip away. I should know better than to worry about his feelings for me. Especially since we’ve got a much bigger, and very real, problem to deal with. The Beaumont Curse looms, destined to turn him dark and depraved. Which reminds me about the gris-gris bag that’s stuffed in my messenger bag.
Clearing my throat, I dig out the mojo. “Miss Delia and I made this for you.” I dangle the necklace with the tiny white pouch before him. “It’s a black magic Protective Shield.”
He drapes it over his head then tucks it under his shirt. “Thanks.” He smiles and I swear for a half a nanosecond, he seems to glow. But it must be a trick of the afternoon light because it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. Or maybe I’m still suffering under the effects of working the spell.
“It’s probably not enough to break the curse on its own, but it should offer some protection while Miss Delia works on a permanent cure.”
He clutches my hand. “If it doesn’t work—”
I shake my head. “It’ll work. Or the next one will. Or the one after that.”
He clasps my hand. “I hope that’s true. But if every spell fails, I want you to know I’m going to fight this thing with all I’ve got. I don’t want to turn out like my father and all the Beaumont men before him.” His gorgeous lips grimace as if his mouth is filled with bile. “My choice has to matter for something. I don’t want to be greedy and selfish, arrogant and destructive. That’s not me.” Not to mention his father’s gluttonous appetite, ginormous girth, and less-than-stellar hygiene. Those are definitely worth avoiding as well.
Nodding, I meet his gaze. “I know it isn’t.” I place my palm on his chest and feel his heart pump beneath my hand. “You’re a good person. The best I know. That’s why I’m going to do everything I can to keep you that way.” Including pray for a miracle.
“I swear to you, Emmaline, I won’t leave you. I’m going to be around for as long as you can stand me.” Gathering me in his arms, he leans forward then dips his head as his mouth meets mine. Shivers race over my flesh. Edging closer to deepen our kiss, I feel the hint of stubble above his firm but tender lips. We could do this all evening.
“Then I’m going to be pretty busy, because I’m planning on having you around for a while.” I kiss him again and snuggle close.
Something tugs on the fabric of my shorts. Glancing down, I notice my pocket is stretched toward his. The two pieces of clothing stick together in the most massive case of static cling I’ve ever seen.
“Huh, that’s funny.” I pull at my shorts, but it stays put, as if bound to his.
He chuckles. “I don’t know, maybe this charm is supposed to do more than protect me from black magic. I bet it’s supposed to keep us glued together forever.” He winks, then tugs at the cloth, yanking the two pieces apart.
I scowl. “You know I’d never do anything like that.” Red magic coercion spells take away a person’s free will to love and are just plain wrong.
He nuzzles my neck. “I know. I just like to watch you get all riled up.”
“Ha-ha.” I yawn. My thigh warms. Digging my hand into my pocket, I finger my third of the broken ruby. Since we couldn’t glue the three pieces together after the Break Jinx failed to reverse the Beaumont Curse, Cooper, Jack, and I each took one as a sort of souvenir. An insanely expensive and irreplaceable one, but it was better than tossing them into St. Helena Island Sound.
Just thinking about my massive screwup makes me tired, and way too fatigued to think about my clingy pants. Cooper’s probably half-right anyway. The spell must have discharged some electromagnetic energy
or something. My lids droop and I pull away. “I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted. I should probably head home.”
He sighs. “Fine, have it your way.” He runs his hand through his loose, golden-brown hair, then flashes me his killer smile. Standing up, he offers me his hand and pulls me to my feet. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I wink, knowing his gratitude is as much for the kisses as it is for helping to save his soul.
Cooper and I make our way up the bluff and down the path that leads to the Big House. Just as we’re about to hop into the golf cart to head to the caretaker’s cottage, shouts erupt from Cooper’s place and we race toward the sound. It’s definitely Cooper’s dad, Beau, and someone else. Something smashes. Whatever’s going on, it isn’t pretty.
Cooper and I wind around the front of the house toward the back patio and veranda.
“Stop!” a hushed voice calls out.
I grind to a halt as Cooper pulls up next to me.
It’s my brother, Jack’s, voice but I don’t see him anywhere.
“Where are you, bro?” Cooper whispers.
The shouts from the house grow louder.
“Over here.”
Jack is hunched behind a giant saw palmetto bush on the edge of the yard. Cooper and I rush over to him.
“What are you doing?” I kneel in the mulch and bat away a long, spindly leaf.
“What does it look like? I’m eavesdropping.”
Thank you, Sergeant Obvious.
“Yeah, but why?” Cooper crouches next to me.
Jack lifts a finger to his lips to keep us quiet. “Just listen. They’ve been going at it for about an hour.”
Missy, Cooper’s very young and very blonde stepmother, skitters out the back door in her trademark stilettos and cutoff shorts, then scurries across the veranda and out onto the patio. “I swear, I’m not lying.”
“Then answer my question.” Beau’s voice booms from inside the house. His thick southern accent is more sluggish than usual. Almost groggy. Another crash booms.
“I did, sugar. About a thousand times.”
“No you haven’t. I want answers, Missy, and I want them now.” Beau’s voice bellows as he lumbers to the French doors that open out to the veranda, leaning hard against his cane and staggering with each step.
Cooper’s father is humongous, the inevitable result of his extraordinary appetite for all things deep fried and decadent. He wasn’t always like this. I’ve seen pictures of him and my dad when they were kids. Thirty years ago they were both lean and athletic, but somewhere along the line, probably when the Beaumont Curse snatched his soul, he changed.
Hauling his excessive girth across the threshold of the veranda, Beau heaves for breath. “Where is it?” He sways and reaches for a glass table for support but it tips and crashes to the ground, its top splintering into a thousand pieces. Somehow he manages not to spill on the floor with it. “I want my ruby. Now.”
My stomach plummets. Now I understand why Jack’s been spying on them. The necklace. A third of which is currently in my pocket. We are so screwed.
“Crud,” Cooper whispers as he grips his temple. His heart is beating so hard I can actually hear it in his chest.
“Uh-huh.” Jack nods.
My pulse rages as adrenaline surges through my veins. Depending on how Missy answers her husband, things could go very badly for us, especially Cooper. Until last week Missy wore the eighty-carat ruby everywhere—the grocery store, the mall, even the gym and spa. But we needed it to break the Beaumont Curse, so we borrowed it—sort of—by working a Mind Confusion spell in the middle of her Fourth of July hurricane party. In our defense, I only expected to use it for a couple hours until after the storm passed and the Beaumont Curse was broken. How was I supposed to know everything would go horribly wrong and the necklace would be destroyed?
Gnawing my lip, I stare at Missy, who’s gripping the back of a patio chair. “Beau, baby. My jewelry is locked up tight in my treasure box. You know that.” She forces a smile and a nervous giggle trickles from her throat.
“Do I?” Though his voice quiets, it’s laced with barely contained fury.
“S-sure you do. Why would you think otherwise?”
“You know. It’s funny. You’ve been saying the same thing all week.” His jowls ungulate with each syllable. With a grunt, he steps forward, advancing across the veranda. “I want to believe you. Especially since you know how important that stone is to this family. And how much I value it. Surely you wouldn’t dream of losing something that’s been handed down to every plantation mistress for nearly three hundred years.” He sucks for air, his chest gurgling with each breath as he lurches onto the patio. Even in the twilight, his skin is pastier than normal. This workout is liable to give him a heart attack.
She shakes her platinum head and takes a step back. “No, of course not, baby. I’d never dream of doing anything like that.”
Wheezing, he advances toward her. “And after all I’ve given you, you wouldn’t possibly think about stealing from me.”
“Never. I’m the luckiest girl in the world. If it wasn’t for you I’d still be the checker at the Route 21 convenience mart.” Her voice quakes.
He stops right in front of her. “Then why are you lying to me?”
“I’m not.”
His pungent, rotten-bologna scent carries on the breeze, burning my throat. He’s always reeked, but even from this distance, it’s stronger than normal.
Beau nods. “Yes, you are. I looked in that box of yours. The necklace isn’t there.”
She swallows hard. “I’m sure it’s in a safe place.”
Jack and Cooper turn to me, their jaws agape. We don’t need words to know we’re all thinking the same thing: Is she as clueless as she seems, or is she actually covering for us? And if so, why?
Fast as lightning, Beau’s arm shoots out and he clutches her tiny jaw in his enormous hand. “You’re sure?”
I gasp, surprised by his ability to move so quickly especially after all the huffing and puffing.
His head snaps in our direction.
Cooper, Jack, and I freeze, holding our breath.
For one long minute Beau searches the yard with his gaze, looking for the source of the sound. My lungs burn for fresh air and my muscles ache from being locked in place.
Finally, Beau turns away, apparently satisfied that he and Missy are alone. Releasing her jaw, he strokes the side of her sleek hair with his puffy hand. “Where is the ruby?”
“I’m not sure.” Her voice is small.
“What?” he growls.
She whimpers. “I know I wore it to the hurricane party. And I remember talking to Bunny Perkins about the burglaries on the island. We’ve got so many valuables here, I was worried we’d be robbed next. I’m sure I put it somewhere to keep it safe. I just can’t remember where.” Her eyes sink like a puppy who knows she’s eaten her master’s slippers.
Beau grips his cane so tight, I’m sure it’ll snap in two. “How is that possible?”
“I had a lot of tequila.”
Actually, I’m certain it was the dirt dauber powder, made from ground-up wasp nests. Adding it to the mustard seed and pepper mixture gave the Mind Confusion charm an extra-strong kick. And with any luck, long-lasting power because there’s no telling what Beau will do if Missy suddenly remembers handing the necklace to us.
Stumbling backward, Beau shakes his fist. “You imbecile! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
She rushes to him and pats his colossal chest. “Baby, it’ll be okay. I didn’t leave the Big House that night so it’s got to be here somewhere. It’ll turn up. I’m sure of it.”
His brow furrows. “You might not have left, but how do you know one of your low-life, gold-digging friends didn’t take it?”
“That’s ridiculous,” she snaps. “None of my friends would steal my necklace.”
“My necklace.” He glares with disdain.
She cowers. “Of course. But
if it was stolen—which I’m not saying it was—but if it was, doesn’t it make sense that the burglars would take it? Our house is full of valuables.”
Beau mashes his thin, blue lips. “We’ll know soon enough. I’ve convinced the rest of the King Center board to hire a real investigator to look into the break in. No one steals from my museum and gets away with it. And if these punks looted my home, too, I’ll hunt them down and make them pay.” He turns and hobbles a few steps toward the veranda. Pausing, he calls over his shoulder. “In the meantime, don’t even think of running back to your momma’s double-wide. You’re staying put so I can keep an eye on you, just in case you’re lying to me.” Grunting, he plows across the veranda and back into the house.
Missy’s legs give out beneath her. Slumping into a lounge chair, she drops her head in her hands and weeps.
Chapter Four
I stare at the dry cereal in my bowl, debating whether to pour some milk and try to eat. After last night, my stomach has been twisted in knots, burning and queasy. I don’t know how I didn’t puke right there behind the palmetto bush after Beau stormed off, or later during my sleepless night as I peered up at the ceiling, but now there’s enough bile in my gut to bore a hole clean through to the outside. If I do manage to swallow these sugar-coated corn flakes, they’ll either incinerate on contact, or launch straight back up my throat.
My twin brother breezes into the kitchen and heads to the cabinet for a bowl and spoon, then plops down at the table. “What’s the matter?” Jack grabs the cereal box next to me. Judging by his perkiness and the brightness in his voice, he wasn’t up all night worrying that Beau will discover we destroyed the ruby necklace and stole from the museum.
“Good morning to you, too. Nice to know I’m the only one freaking out about our future.”
“Listen, Em, what’s done is done. We can’t stress about it.” He shakes out an extra-large helping for himself.
I drop my spoon. “How can you say that? If Beau finds out, we’re dead.”
“Maybe, but there’s no guarantee he will. Missy seems pretty clueless.”