Mallory and I are quiet as the door closes behind Kate. Finally, I walk to the door and lock it, then return to her desk. “I should have asked if you have dinner plans. I did bring dessert, so at least that won’t go to waste.”
“Are you kidding?” she asks, eyeing my bag. “I’m starving. I’ll eat all the food.” She holds her hands out. “Gimme.”
“It’s not just for you, you know,” I reply, handing her the bag. I can’t help but grin at her as she unpacks the bag with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. “I’m hungry too.”
“I can share,” she says and sends me a wink.
“They’re violet,” I say, surprised.
“Excuse me?” She stands up straight, a box of chicken Alfredo gripped in her hand.
“Your eyes. I thought they were blue, but I was wrong. They’re violet.”
She looks down and nods, concentrating on the food again. “They are.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence as she sits and dives back into her Chinese. I sit in the chair across from her and open the Styrofoam box she placed in front of me. “This is a fantastic restaurant.”
“Oh, I know,” she says with a smile. “One of my favorites.”
“I like a woman who enjoys food.” I take a bite of my lasagna and feel my stomach sigh in relief. I am also starving.
“Did you get crème brulee for dessert?” she asks, those violet eyes shining.
“I did.”
“Excellent.” She sets her half-eaten Chinese aside and digs into her pasta. “Any other day, I would say this isn’t a great combination, but everything tastes good right now. I don’t think any of us ate today.”
“We were a little busy,” I reply.
“Thank you again,” she says. “You went above and beyond the call of landlord duty.”
“It wasn’t a problem at all.” I wipe my mouth on a small napkin. Truth be told, it was kind of fun to spend the day in her shop rather than in my office. And the more time I spent with her today, the more I want to know about her. “So, tell me about you.”
“What about me?” The way she’s shoveling that pasta in her mouth is awe-inspiring. “There’s not much to say.”
“Let’s start with this shop. What made you decide to open it?”
She shrugs, not looking up from her meal. It’s interesting how she doesn’t like to look me in the eyes when she talks about things that make her vulnerable.
“It was just a hobby that became my work.”
I sit back and watch her for a moment, then shake my head. “I don’t think that’s it.”
Her head jerks up now, and she frowns. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, I’m saying there’s much more to that story.”
She sighs and pushes the food around “Isn’t there always more to the story?”
“I’d like to hear yours.” Which surprises the fuck out of me. I rarely take the time to chat with anyone outside of business and family.
“I’ve always had a knack for knowing what people need,” she says softly, as if she’s choosing her words very carefully. I don’t know why that bothers me. I want her to speak her mind, to not have to censor what she says.
But this is a good start.
“In what way?”
“Maybe someone has headaches, or their feet hurt. I have essential oils and herbs that can help with those things.”
I nod.
“My grandmother taught me all about alternative medicine from the time I was a child. She wasn’t crazy with it,” she says quickly, “she still believed in western medicine as well, but why take a pain reliever full of chemicals if you can just put a drop of oil on the back of your neck to get the same result?”
She shrugs and reaches for the dessert, smiles when she opens the box, and digs in with enthusiasm.
“I thought it would be fun to open a store full of those things,” she continues. “I wanted the bottles to be pretty, and everything to be tied with a bow. I wanted a place where people enjoyed coming in, even if only to browse. It smells good, the energy is calming.”
And I realize that that’s exactly how I feel whenever I’ve been in her store.
“I’d say you’ve accomplished those things.”
“Thank you.” Her smile is huge and genuine. “That’s really the best compliment I could ever get.”
“Really?” I cock a brow and watch her lashes flutter. “I’d also say you’re stunning. I want to bury my fingers in that amazing curly hair of yours.”
There must be something in the food that’s making me speak so freely. But Mallory seems to bring out my flirty side.
I’d forgotten that I had a flirty side.
Her smile slips just a bit, and her cheeks flush, and I know she’d look just like that when I’m buried balls deep inside her.
“That’s very nice of you.”
“But not what you want to hear.”
“Well, don’t get me wrong, every woman wants to be told she’s pretty.”
“I didn’t say pretty,” I reply and lean in, resting my elbows on her desk. “‘Pretty’ is too dull of a word to describe you.”
“You’re an interesting man,” she says, tilting her head to the side and studying my face with narrowed violet eyes. “You just say whatever you’re feeling.”
“Not always.” I reach out to tuck her hair behind her ear and she stiffens. I pause, keeping my eyes pinned to hers before I slowly brush just the pads of my fingertips over the outline of her ear, tucking that soft curly hair, then lowering my hand back to the desk. “But I see no reason to not be honest with you.”
“I opened this shop because I love it,” she says, her voice still soft but firm. She’s not weak in any way, and that pulls at me like a siren’s song. “I want to help people if I can, even if it’s just to moisturize their hands. And I like this building.”
“There are other streets with more foot traffic.”
“And I like where I am,” she says again. “I do well here.”
“I’m glad you do.” I nod and without giving it much thought, reach out to pull my fingertips over her hand. My eyes are watching hers as I do, and I can see the hesitation just before I touch her, and then the relief when my skin rests on hers.
She doesn’t like to be touched.
“Tell me more,” I say softly.
“That’s all there is about the store.”
“Tell me about you.”
She pulls her hand out from under mine and sits back in her chair. “I think you’d better go, before I tell you more than I want to.”
I cock a brow. “I’m a fan of honesty.”
“Good.” She nods once and begins loading the empty boxes in the trash. “I’m in favor of being honest, and in that same spirit, I’m exhausted, Beau.”
“I know. I am, too.”
But I’m not ready to say goodbye to her yet. I’m afraid that we’ll go our separate ways, and I won’t see her again.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
“That I want to see you again.”
“You live upstairs from my shop,” she reminds me. “I don’t see how we could avoid it.”
“We avoided it for a damn long time,” I say and stand, shoving my hands in my pockets. “But I won’t make that mistake again.”
She smiles as she also stands and walks around the desk. “You are something else.”
“True. At least, that’s what my mother always says, and I don’t think she means it in an endearing way.”
“I’m sure she loves you very much.”
“She does.” I shrug. “And I’d rather not talk about my mama when all I can think about is this.” I take her hand and tug her against me, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. She fits. Her face is pressed to my chest, her arms wrapped around my torso, hands pressed to my back.
This is the sexiest hug in the history of the universe.
After a moment, Mallory sinks into me, letting out a long breath. I w
ant to boost her up onto the desk and fuck her until we’re both a sweaty mess, and I plan to do exactly that in the not too distant future.
But for right now, I’m content holding her against me, rocking gently, until she finally pulls back and smiles up at me.
“Thank you. I needed that.”
I kiss her forehead before letting her go. “Me too.”
Chapter Three
~Mallory~
It’s almost two in the morning, after the longest day of my life, and do you think I can sleep?
Of course not. I’ve been up for nearly twenty-four hours, and my brain won’t shut off.
I should be thinking about the shop, what I need to order to replace the damaged products, pray that the floor isn’t ruined, and if it is, how in the hell am I going to pay for it?
Instead, all I can think of is a certain sexy man named Beau.
Because he’s different.
And different makes me feel…nervous. I don’t like surprises. They don’t happen often, and when they do, they’re not usually good surprises.
I can’t read him. At all. He touches me, and there’s just calm, like I’m standing in calm, blue warm water. But when I look in his eyes, there are too many emotions to count.
So, why can’t I feel them? That’s what I do. It’s who I am. It’s why relationships don’t work out for me. Not just with men, but friendships too. Because it’s too creepy for most people when I respond to words they haven’t said out loud.
I’ve gotten better at keeping my mouth shut and recognizing what they’ve said aloud and what they’re thinking, but it still happens sometimes.
And I learned long ago to not volunteer the psychic information to anyone new. I’m suddenly either a freak show, or their entertainment.
But I can’t turn it off. I tried for many years, especially after I lost my grandmother. It’s no use. It is what it is, and I have learned to live with it quite well. I have my small circle of loved ones, and that’s all I need.
At least, that’s what I always thought.
But now, I’m yearning for a man’s touch, and that hasn’t happened in…ever.
I’m no virgin. But sex takes an emotional toll on me and I haven’t found anyone that’s worth it.
But Beau might be.
Because I can’t read him, but the emotions he’s pulled out of me after spending such a short amount of time with him is new.
And nice.
Very nice.
I smirk and turn on my side, throw one leg out of the covers, and sigh. My phone lights up with a text from Lena. I grab it and smile.
Why are you awake?
I roll my eyes and reply: Because my brain won’t shut up.
But my eyes are starting to get heavy.
I’m coming into the shop tomorrow to help you out. Lena’s the best friend a girl can have. Rather than text, I just call her back.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Why are you whispering?”
“No reason.”
I narrow my eyes. “Is there someone there with you?”
“If I say no, will you believe me?”
“Lena! Who is it?”
“You don’t know him,” she says and I can hear her walking now, presumably out of her bedroom so she doesn’t wake up the dude she’s banging.
“Well, now I know why you’re not asleep.” My voice is dry.
“I could feel you awake,” she says. “And just because you don’t like sex, doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t.”
“I like it,” I reply and wrinkle my nose. “If they’d stop thinking while we’re doing it I’d like it better.”
“I know,” she says softly. Lena isn’t as psychically strong as I am, but she can block emotions and thoughts from others.
I can if I’m not physically touching them. But once there is contact, I can’t block thoughts or feelings.
Which is why Beau intrigues me so.
“Did you get all the water out of the store?” She asks, crunching on something in my ear.
“Yeah, and I have fans going tonight to try to dry it all. What a mess.”
“What time do you want me there tomorrow?”
“You don’t have to come at all,” I reply honestly.
“I want to hang out with you. I feel like I don’t see you enough.”
I smile. “Well, that sounds like a good plan.”
“Great. So what time?”
“Ten? I open late on Sundays.”
“Works for me. I will want to hear all about Beau.”
I roll my eyes again and sigh, regretting immediately that I told her via text earlier today that he had helped me.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Now, I know that’s not true.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “Be ready to spill it. I’m bringing my tarot cards too.”
“No.”
“Yes. Love you. Goodnight.”
“Use protection,” I reply and hang up to the sound of her laugh.
***
I yawn and scratch the side of my head as I unlock the shop and step inside, relieved to see that the floor is, indeed, mostly dry. I can open up later and work inside today.
I’m here an hour before Lena so I can do some paperwork and pay some bills, all tasks that I save for Sunday mornings. It’s quiet here, and I just like to be home.
After the bills are paid, and my spreadsheets are caught up, I stretch and change from my lounge wear—yoga pants and a T-shirt—into a flowy, purple skirt and black peasant blouse. My hair gets a good brushing, and I twist it up in a simple knot.
Lena walks in, using her key, just as I’m finishing my makeup.
“Good morning,” she says and passes me one of the two coffees she’s carrying.
“Bless you,” I say and take a drink, then notice the white paper sack she’s tucked under her arm. “Are those what I think they are?”
“If you think they’re beignets, yes.”
I reach for them, but she slaps my hand.
“Hey!”
“You’re so grabby,” she says with a scowl.
“You better plan to share those.”
“I do, but only if you spill the beans about Mr. Boudreaux.” She smirks, her blue eyes shining.
“Fine. Gimme.” She hands the bag over, and each of us retrieves a hot, powdered sugar covered piece of heaven.
“Jesus, they’re always better than I remember them being,” she says with a sigh.
“I know.” I sit at my desk and Lena sits across from me, where Beau sat last night. Her eyes widen.
“What?”
“He sat here,” she says and narrows her eyes like she’s listening to something. “He likes you.”
“You can read him?” I ask, shocked.
“His energy is strong,” she says with a nod. “I may not be as strong as you, but even I can sense that much.”
I take another bite, completely confused.
“Mal?”
“Yeah?”
“Look at me.”
I comply and she slowly shakes her head from side to side. “You can’t read him, can you?”
“No, and I don’t know why!” I sit back in frustration and chew my food. “I can see the emotion in his eyes, but when he touches me? Nothing.”
“At all?”
“Nada. Zip. It’s like he’s emotionless.”
“Well, he’s not that,” she says and takes a sip of her coffee. “There’s enough residual energy here to light the place up.”
“No way.” I shake my head.
“So you feel nothing when he touches you?”
“I didn’t say that,” I reply and bite my lip. “I can’t read his emotions. I just feel calm.”
“But you’re attracted to him.”
It’s not a question.
“I mean, he’s attractive. And I’m female. So, it makes sense that I would be attracted to him.”
“Most stubborn person I know,” she mutters and tosses
her empty coffee cup into the wastebasket. “Do you want to rip his clothes off and let him fuck you on this desk?”
“That’s pretty specific,” I say, not at all turned off at the prospect. “Wait. Was he thinking that last night?”
She simply smiles. “He’s into you.”
“I don’t know why,” I reply.
“I don’t have to read minds to tell you why,” Lena says. “Because you’re beautiful and smart and funny.”
“Oh, yes. That’s why.” I laugh. “Beau is in a completely different league.”
“What league would that be?” the man himself says from the doorway, startling us both.
I didn’t feel him come in.
My God, what’s wrong with me?
“How did you get in?” I ask and then I can’t speak at all. He’s shirtless, again, and he’s panting; sweat is streaked down his face and chest.
Fucking hell, I want to devour him. On this desk.
“I didn’t lock the door behind me,” Lena says with a smile and stands to face Beau. “Good morning. I’m Lena, Mal’s BFF.”
“Pleasure,” he says and shakes her hand. “I’m—”
“I know,” she replies with a grin. “You’re Beau. I’m going to go take a look at that water damage.”
And with that, she’s gone, and I’m left holding a cold beignet, staring at the sexiest man alive.
Half naked.
With sweat.
My eyes are pinned to his chest because I can’t look away. His abs are just stupid, they’re so hot. I didn’t think abs like that really existed. Certainly not with the V at the hips. But it’s no myth. I’m staring right at him.
“Mallory?”
My eyes find his, and he’s smiling, his whiskey eyes pinned to my face.
“Yeah?”
“I’m up here.”
I roll my eyes and set the beignet down. “I wasn’t staring at your chest.”
“Sure.”
“I wasn’t,” I insist.
“You know, I’ve never been on this end of this conversation before.”
I can’t help but laugh and shake my head, brushing sugar from my fingers.
“How can I help you?” I ask.
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