Moonlight Scandals

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  Rosie smiled at them.

  Laurie grinned as she ducked her chin, letting her thick black hair fall forward and hide her face.

  “Good afternoon, honey.” Cindy wiggled her brows in Devlin’s direction as she curled her arm around her husband’s. “What a lovely change of scenery today.”

  Her husband snorted. “Scenery is always lovely to me.” Benny winked in their direction.

  “That’s my boy,” Mom replied with a big old smile. “Whatever you like, it’s on the house.”

  “I don’t know.” Cindy looked Devlin up and down like he was for sale. “You guys got yourself a de Vincent in here. I feel like I need to pay you just for that.”

  Bella giggled.

  Devlin glanced over his shoulder at the older couple and then back to Rosie. He looked so thoroughly confused and out of his element that it took everything for Rosie not to laugh.

  Did he never socialize with the common folk?

  That thought made it even harder for her not to lose it, because in a way, the de Vincents were American royalty.

  Except Devlin was definitely a frog and not a prince.

  But then the worst possible thing happened. Rosie heard her father’s deep voice booming from the recesses of the kitchen.

  “What in the world is going on out there?” he demanded, and as he spoke, his voice grew closer. “Is there a party I’m not invited to?”

  Rosie’s eyes widened. There was no way she could let her father come out here and see Devlin. He’d have questions. Lots of them. Awkward ones. She sprang into action, bolting out from behind the counter. “You want to chat, we’re going to do it outside.”

  “Why?” Bella called out. “There’s plenty of space here.”

  Rosie shot her sister a scowl and then turned to Devlin. He stared at her like she’d spoken in code, but he nodded at those gathered around the counter and followed her outside, to a cloudy, overcast sky. It was going to be another rainy day.

  Stopping under the black-and-gold-striped awning, she crossed her arms, tipped her head back, and glared death rays up at him. She opened her mouth.

  Devlin beat her to it. “Do you always speak to people like you’re barking at them?”

  “Barking? Are you calling me a dog?”

  His head tilted to the side. “That’s not what I’m saying, but you do remind me of one of those little dogs. The fluffy ones that nip at people’s ankles when they want attention.”

  Rosie could not believe him. She seriously could not believe him. “Did you seriously just say that I remind you of a Pomeranian?”

  “I wasn’t thinking of a Pomeranian, but now that you mention it . . .”

  “Did you come here just to insult me more?” she demanded, keeping her voice low as people passed them on the street. “Like you searched me down using some sort of nefarious means just to tell me I’m like a small, yappy dog?”

  His chin dipped and his lips twitched as if he wanted to smile. “I didn’t have to use nefarious methods to find you.”

  “Oh really? Then how did you know I was here?”

  “You actually told me you worked here.”

  She opened her mouth then snapped it shut. He was right. She had mentioned it.

  Devlin smirked.

  “Whatever. Did you not get all your insults out last night? Pretty sure I made it painfully clear that I never want to speak to you or see you again.”

  “You did make that clear, but it looks like our paths are just destined to keep crossing,” he replied blandly.

  “No. Absolutely not. Our paths are going in two very different directions. You’re east. I’m west. So, peace out—”

  “I wish that was the case.”

  Her lips thinned. “Do you realize you’re standing in front of me, at my parents’ bakery, after accusing me of being a scheming liar and basically a lunatic, and you just insulted me again?”

  “How did I just insult you again?”

  “You just said you wished our paths wouldn’t cross.”

  One side of his lips kicked up. “I did say that, but do you realize you’ve been insulting me since you opened your mouth?”

  “I do, but I’m allowed, because you’re a giant—”

  “Dickhead,” he finished for her.

  “Yes. And if you remember correctly, you’re officially beyond undicking yourself. Goodbye—”

  “I’m here because of our deal.”

  Rosie’s eyes narrowed. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Those thick, dark lashes swept up and that intense, pale gaze met hers. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

  “You look like you need a foot up your ass.”

  He laughed, sounding surprised. His expression smoothed out so quickly, though, that she wondered if she’d heard the laugh or not. “You asked for Lucian’s number.”

  “I did.”

  “So you could get into his house.”

  “Sounds about right.” She glanced at a woman leading a small girl into the bakery. “So, I’m still confused by why you’re here.”

  “I’m here, because you’re not going to involve my brother—”

  “I’m not involving your brother in anything,” she cut him off. “And I swear if you suggest that I’m somehow up to anything other than what I told you about Lucian’s house, I am going to lose my mind right here and I will not be responsible for my actions.”

  His tone was dry. “I wouldn’t want that to happen.”

  “No.” She held his gaze. “You would not.”

  Something shifted over his features. “On second thought, I think I know what happens when you . . . lose your mind a little. Perhaps I would be interested in that happening, Rosie.”

  There it was again, an unwanted shiver accompanying the way he said that and her name. How in the world could a man, a man she did not like, cause such a reaction?

  “Me losing my mind out here would be nothing like the way I lost my mind last night,” she retorted. “I asked for your brother’s phone number to see if he’d let my team into his house. You know that.”

  “What I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted—” he stepped into her, so close that the sides of what had to be ridiculously expensive loafers brushed her cheap Old Navy flip-flops “—I don’t want you involving Lucian in some kind of paranormal investigation.”

  “And why not?”

  “If you knew my brother, you wouldn’t have to ask that question,” he said, his voice dry. “I made a deal with you. I plan to see it through. I will get you into Lucian’s house.”

  She inhaled sharply through her nose. “I’d rather swim in Lake Pontchartrain and then bathe in the Mississippi River than even stand here and talk to you. You do realize that, right?”

  He stared at her and then bit out, “Fuck.”

  Rosie felt her face flush with warmth. He said fuck the same way he said her name. Deep. Husky. Hot. And she hated that—the purely physical reaction to a word, to that word. To him.

  “You’re making this so difficult,” he said.

  She forced her words to come out steady and unaffected. “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. Nothing about this needs to be difficult, because there’s no reason for you to be here and there’s no real reason why Lucian can’t just let the team into his house.”

  “I think you misunderstood what I said about you making this difficult. It’s not the fact that I’m here, talking to you about Lucian’s house.” Heat flared in those blue-green eyes, and as he held her gaze, she began to feel like she was standing too close to the sun, moments away from being burned. “You’re making this difficult because I actually . . . like you.”

  “Okay. You must have issues coming out of the wazoo . . .” Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned to the bakery. Her mother and sister stood at the window, their faces planted to the glass.

  Holy balls, they were ridiculous.

  Rosie grabbed Devlin’s arm and led him a
way from the window, out of the path of prying eyes, as she tried to ignore how solid and warm his arm was under the thin white shirt. Her hand slid down his arm when he resisted, but she kept pulling until he followed. Stopping at the corner of the street, she turned to say something to Devlin, but whatever she was about to say died on her tongue.

  He stared down at where she’d grabbed him. Rosie’s heart lurched. Somehow, she’d taken his hand. She was holding his hand! What kind of voodoo magic had possessed her to do that? Because seriously, she had no idea she’d taken his hand. None. So, she wasn’t responsible for that. At all.

  Rosie started to pull her hand away, but he stopped her, folding his fingers through hers.

  Slowly, he lifted his gaze from her hand to her eyes. “I am sorry for . . . how things ended last night between us and I’d like to make it up to you.”

  “Come again?”

  There was a slight curve of his lips. Not really a smile. Not even a half grin, and nothing like the smiles he allowed while he was wearing his mask. “I would like to make it up to you.”

  Rosie looked around them, half expecting someone to jump out of one of the cars parked along the street with a camera. He couldn’t be real, but when she looked back at him, she saw the truth in his gaze. He was being for real.

  He wanted to make it up to her?

  “We’ve moved past that point.” She tried to pull her hand free. He held on. “Like way past that point of you making it up to me.”

  “You haven’t even heard how I plan to make it up to you.”

  “I really don’t care.”

  “Oh I think you will.” There was a slight warming to those pale eyes. “I’m making another amendment to our condition.”

  Her mouth dropped open again, and she was sure she looked like a fish out of water. “There will be no more amendments. Why? Because last night didn’t happen. It was a figment of our imaginations.”

  His brows knitted together. “Do you think I’m going to forget what happened last night?”

  “I already have.” So not true.

  And Devlin called her bluff. “Now, I know that’s a lie.” His voice lowered. “There is no way you forgot what it felt like to have my hand between your legs.”

  Rosie gasped. She was the furthest thing from a prude, but they were standing on the side of the street! Then again, people in New Orleans had probably heard weirder conversations than this one.

  “And I sure as hell haven’t forgotten that you said you’d let me do anything,” he continued, and much to her horror, that hot, tight shiver returned and he saw it. “There it is. You haven’t forgotten a thing, Rosie.”

  God, she loathed this man.

  “Do I need to remind you of how much of a dick you were? I don’t think I do, but if you’d like me to list the ways, I can.”

  “No.” He sighed. “That will not be necessary.”

  “Good. So, can we just move past all of this? Lucian can let the team into his house, and you and I never have to cross paths again. That sounds—”

  “The amendment,” he cut in, the corner of his lips twitching when she narrowed her eyes. “I think you’ll enjoy this amendment.”

  “Devlin—”

  “I’ll get you into the house—only you. No team of people. No strangers. That is my brother’s home. I do not want random people prowling around.”

  She opened her mouth.

  “I doubt that you’ll find anything—”

  “Just like I wouldn’t find anything in your home?” she snapped. “Or did you forget that you’d admitted that your house was haunted?”

  “I didn’t forget, but that doesn’t mean I believe for one second there is a ghost using my brother’s home as a time-share.”

  Well, when he put it that way it did sound dumb. “Can you let go of my hand?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I’m afraid you’ll run away from me if I do.”

  “I want to,” she retorted.

  “And that’s why I’m not letting go.” His thumb moved on the center of her palm in a slow, idle sweep. “When you’re done investigating the house, then that is it. You won’t have to worry about our paths crossing again and I won’t have to worry about you contacting my brother,” he said. “And you won’t have to worry about seeing me again.”

  “That’s your new amendment?”

  He nodded. “I’ll take you into the house tonight.”

  “Tonight?” she squeaked.

  “Tonight or never. Those are your options.”

  She gaped at him. “I have plans for tonight.”

  “Like what?”

  “What do you mean like what? You say that like it’s not possible for me to have plans.” Other than meeting up with Jilly and Lance, she really didn’t have plans, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “If you want in to Lucian’s house bad enough, you’d change your plans.”

  She tugged on her hand again, and he didn’t let go. “What if my plans are unchangeable?”

  He stared at her a moment. “Then I guess you don’t want to investigate Lucian’s house bad enough.”

  Rosie clamped her jaw down so hard it was a miracle that she didn’t crack a molar. There was a part of her that wanted to tell him to forget it, but Jilly would legit strangle her if she passed up this opportunity.

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll take one for the team.”

  “Take one for the team?” Devlin smirked. “You wanted in this house, Rosie. We made a deal, and I’m going to stick to it.”

  “I wanted in this house without you,” she corrected. “And I would’ve had no problem with you honoring the deal if you didn’t have—”

  “To be a dick. Got it. Meet me at the house tonight at nine.” He let go of her hand. “And don’t be late.”

  Rosie resisted the urge to tell him she had a problem with the time. “You don’t be late.”

  He started backing up. “I’m never late, Rosie. See you tonight.”

  As he pivoted around and prowled off, she muttered under her breath, “I’m never late. Blah. Blah, asshole.”

  Stringing together an impressive combination of curse words, she stalked back into the bakery.

  Her mother and her sister were waiting for her in front of the counter. That was a problem, because Cindy and Benny were still waiting to be served, and so was Laurie.

  And they were also standing there, staring at her just like her mom and sister were.

  “Hello?” Rosie gestured toward the customers.

  Her sister ignored that and marched straight to where Rosie stood and clasped her cheeks with her warm, sugary-scented hands. “Okay, you need to spill everything right now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Bella’s eyes widened. “Oh no. No. No. You are going to tell me exactly why Devlin de Vincent just came in here looking for you and why it looked like you two were either seconds away from making out or punching one another.”

  Pulling away from her sister, Rosie headed for the counter. “It did not look like that.”

  “It so looked like that,” her mother chimed in.

  Bella followed. “I want all the details. All the details, Rosie.”

  “There’s nothing to tell you. We were just talking. That’s all.”

  “Honey, you do not just talk with a man who looks like that.” Cindy raised her graying brows. “Trust me, I know. Bennie and I rarely talked when we first met.”

  “True,” Bennie murmured as he leaned into the counter.

  Rosie stared at them and then shook her head. “We were just talking, so can we please get back to work and let this go?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Her mother came behind the counter. She focused on the couple, but Rosie knew what mmm-hmm meant in Juniper Pradine speak. So did Laurie, based on the sympathetic look she was shooting in her direction. Everyone who came into Pradine’s on a regular basis knew what it meant.

  Mom might be droppi
ng the conversation, but she sure as hell wasn’t letting it go.

  Chapter 19

  “This is freaking amazing.” Jilly’s eyes were wide.

  Liz bobbed her blond head. “Totes McGoats.”

  “Are you sure none of us can go with you?” Lance stood in the corner of Jilly and Liz’s place, his arms folded across his chest. He’d come straight from work, still dressed in the navy blue EMT uniform. “I don’t like the idea of you doing this alone, at night with some dude.”

  “It’s not some dude,” Jilly answered before Rosie could. “It’s Devlin de Vincent.”

  “That doesn’t mean she’d be safe with him.” Lance frowned. “Probably less safe considering who he is.” His gaze narrowed on her. “I didn’t think you guys liked each other.”

  “We don’t, but I’m safe with him.” As crazy as it sounded, Rosie believed that. He might be a dickhead, but he didn’t give her bad vibes in that kind of way. “He’s . . . prickly, but he’s not dangerous.”

  Lance didn’t look convinced.

  When she woke up this morning, she really had not foreseen how today was going to play out. What she really wanted to do was crawl into bed with a bottle of moscato and a bag of chips—sour cream and onion to be exact. Not that she wasn’t excited about investigating this house, but after dealing with her mother’s and Bella’s incessant questioning all evening, she wasn’t sure she had the mental fortitude to deal with Devlin.

  Zipping up the backpack chock-full of equipment, Jilly knocked her short black bangs out of her face. “If we can capture evidence that supports that the haunting is coming from the house next door, it would be a huge relief to Preston and his wife.”

  “I think it would only be a relief if the haunting stops or the ghosts stay in the house next door,” Liz mused.

  Jilly looked over at her girlfriend. “Yeah, but at least if it’s not originating from their house, there are easier things we can suggest for them to do to put an end to the haunting.”