Not Quite Right (A Lowcountry Mystery) (Lowcountry Mysteries Book 6) (45 page)

I lean over and wrap my arm around Leo’s shoulder, despite the fact that lifting it lets loose a cloud of stench. “Oh, Leo. You’ve always been the normal one. I wouldn’t want to steal your thing.”

He stiffens under my touch, then shifts slightly so his chin rests on top of my head. A strange vibe passes between us as he hovers there, and I get the strangest sense that he might kiss my sticky hair.
 

He doesn’t, of course, just pulls away a moment later with a twist of emotion on his face that’s impossible to pin down. “What’s going on with you and the mayor? Everything back to normal?”

“Well, I think we’ve established that nothing I do is normal, but we’re… I don’t know.”

Leo waits, patient as always, and I know I’m going to confide in him in a way I don’t with anyone else. Mel and Amelia love Beau, they think he’s great for me—and they’re not wrong—but that means they don’t hear much of anything else even when I find the courage to say it.

“Don’t know what?” Leo asks, his blue eyes steady on my face.

“I don’t know how we can make this work.” I shrug. “It’s like we got past this major hump, and with the curse on his family not a factor anymore, he’s ready to try to put it all behind us because what we have is so good.”

“But…?”

I give him a wry smile. “But I had doubts before Mama Lottie came to me about helping with the demise of the Drayton family.”

Leo closes his eyes briefly, as though he’s trying to figure out what to say maybe, then opens them again. “Doubts are normal, Bugs. Relationships are fun and carefree in the beginning, but when they get more serious and people really start to ask to see your insides and what makes you tick, you start to wonder if they’re going to like what they see. When they get more serious still, you start thinking about the future, how your lives will combine, how your relationship will affect other people, and that’s a whole other set of complications.”

Surprise filters through me at his thoughtful, honest response. “Leo, have you ever
had
a serious relationship?”

“No. But I’ve thought about it, and that’s why I haven’t.”

“You do a lot of thinking, don’t you?”

He shrugs, and his neck reddens. “My sister would say too much.”

“I think I agree with her. You’ve got to trust your instincts more maybe.”

Leo barks a short laugh, shaking his head at a joke in his head I can’t quite hear. “I’ll think about it.”

That makes me smile, too, and we watch the river for several minutes before Leo unfolds his legs and stands. “I’ve got to get Marcie. You coming?”

“I think I’ll stay here a little while longer. Maybe try your whole thinking-ahead tactic.”

He staggers back, clutching his chest like my comment is giving him a heart attack. I roll my eyes and he laughs, shaking his head a little. “That would be a miracle. Maybe untying your blood from Anne Bonny’s changed more than your eyes.”

“I guess I can hope my penchant for booze and rash decisions came straight from her.”

Leo sobers, watching me with careful eyes. He opens his mouth once and closes it, then apparently decides to say it anyway. “I guess I hope that it was only her eyes. I would hate to see anything that makes you Gracie change too much. Or at all.”

He leaves without giving me a chance to respond, which is probably a good thing because I don’t know what on earth I would say anyway.

Chapter Twenty-Six

B
eau’s lips are warm and demanding on mine even though it’s seven in the morning and we barely slept all night. His house is dark and quiet, the shades pulled against the weak spill of first light creeping in around them.

“Making up for lost time?” I murmur against his mouth with a smile.

His hands slide down my bare back until they find my butt, cupping me against his hardness. “Mmm.”

I give up talking then, because the feel of him hot and happy in my arms drives all rational thought from my head. Despite what Leo said, and what I told him, thinking
is
overrated when one is in bed with a sexy-as-hell man who knows exactly what he wants.

His tongue and lips explore spots that are well-worn from his attention, from my mouth to my jaw, then down to the pulse in my neck and my collarbone, dipping lower under the sheets to focus on my breasts until I cry out from wanting him.

Beau obliges in his own time, delighting in driving me mad as I fist my hands in his hair and tug insistently. When he slides inside me the world goes quiet, just Beau’s handsome, kind, teasing face and his body moving over mine. We shift together, my legs around his back and my hips tipped up to invite him in, movements that are practiced but not boring, because we know each other well enough that we finish together, wrapped up tight and gasping against each other’s lips as we shudder with pleasure.

He rolls off me after a couple of minutes, and I tip onto my side, head propped on my hand so I don’t have to take my eyes off this perfect man, who is somehow still in bed with me after everything.
 

I put a hand on his chest. “I feel like we’re getting better at that.”

“We’ve always had a way,” he murmurs, looking sleepy. It’s hard to blame him. A couple of hours here and there isn’t enough for me, either. “Come here.”

He tugs me against his chest, and I settle the sheet over my shoulder, breathing him in and snuggling in for another nap. We have nowhere to go today since it’s my day off from the library, and here and now, things like finishing Henry’s paper and doing more research into Travis’s past seem very far away. They seem like blessedly small issues, too, after everything we’ve been through lately, and I’m inclined to spend the entire day right here.

Of course, Amelia gave me a grocery list longer than my arm full of everything we need to put on a Thanksgiving dinner the Harpers would be proud of, so I’ll have to go. Eventually.

I’m dozing when the doorbell rings. I think maybe whoever it is will go away if we ignore it, but it only rings again, causing Beau to stir and groan.
 

He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, putting on his watch before he rubs his face. “I guess I’ll go see who it is.”

“The life of a small-town mayor is never easy,” I say, making a lazy swat at his bare ass but missing because I’m feeling too comfortable to move that far. “I guess I’ll wash the sex smell off me before I come down.”

“Don’t do that on my account. I like it when you smell like us.”

The words, gruff and sexy, stir desire in my belly once more. I get on my knees, kissing him until he groans again and pushes back. The evidence of my effect on him stands straight at attention, and I grin, thinking it’s going to be another minute or two before he can stuff it into his pants.

“I’ll be down in a few.” I saunter into the bathroom and turn on the water in the shower, but make it quick when I hear him leave the room after brushing his teeth.
 

When he doesn’t come back, I hurry through finding something to wear. I come up with a pair of my yoga pants in one of his drawers but that’s it, so I put my dirty bra back on and steal one of Beau’s rarely worn flannel shirts from the closet, too curious about who rang the bell to bother with drying my hair before padding downstairs.

I don’t think about the fact that me, fresh out of the shower and wearing some of the mayor’s clothes, will be a glaring announcement that things are, in fact, back on between us until I see Brick and Birdie around the kitchen table with their brother.

Birdie’s eyebrows go up at the sight of me, but Brick looks pleased. It doesn’t take long to figure out it’s because this makes him spending time with Amelia far less awkward. I don’t know what’s going on between them and my cousin continues to insist it’s nothing more than Brick being a good friend, helping her through a rough time, but I know he loves her. I saw it in how hard he fought to get her back, whether he’s admitted it to himself yet or not.

“Um, hi,” I say.

“There’s coffee,” Beau tells me, his eyes bright as they slide over my body. “And creamer in the fridge.”

“Thanks.”

I get out the bottle and pour myself a steaming cup while they continue their conversation. It feels nice that none of them are attacking me or think they can’t talk in my presence.
 

“So everything went smoothly abroad?” Birdie asks, and when I slide into my chair at the table, we all wait for Brick to answer.

“Yes. As smooth as it could go. I turned over all of our files on potential victims to the PI who worked Lucy’s case all those years ago.”

“He didn’t have any idea where she might have disappeared to?” she presses, a desperate tinge to her voice.

He shakes his head. “He doesn’t. He thinks she’s dead, and as much as we all want to hope that she’s not, it’s best to come to terms with the fact that it’s probably true.”

We all sit in silence, everyone agreeing, I think, but no one willing to say it aloud. Brick finally sighs, loudly, and gives his sister a pointed look. “How was DC?”

“Fine. I talked to the FBI and our attorneys, and someone at the State Department.”

“Someone?” Beau manages a slight smile. “The secretary herself was busy?”

“She’s in Myanmar,” Birdie snaps. “They’re very interested in the case, and since Beauregard never signed any sort of nondisclosure, he can go on the record to get things started.”

My heart stops. “You’re going after the Middletons.”

Beau nods, his mouth set in a grim line. “Yes. And Allied. They can’t get away with this.”

I didn’t even know how badly I felt about letting all of that go in exchange for Mel’s and Leo’s freedom until those words came out of his mouth. I shoot out of my chair, slopping coffee on the table in my haste to lunge over and kiss him right on the mouth.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Birdie gripes.

I grin into my boyfriend’s face. “Thank you for being such a good person.”

“It was mostly Birdie’s doing.”

“Please do
not
kiss me. My brother can reap the rewards, if that’s what you’re calling it.”

I can’t help smiling, but go grab some paper towels and clean up my mess while she gives her siblings the details of what happened in Washington. Her words wash through me without registering, because all that matters is that we’re going to try to make this right. Maybe, in the end, that’s all any of us can really do.
 

Try.

Epilogue

T
he oven has been going full steam since five in the morning, and I’ve never sweat so much in my grandparents’ kitchen. The food is almost all done now, and it looks like it’s going to be worth it, so at least that’s something. Our guest list kept growing, as our friends wanted to come but felt badly about leaving people out, so we’ve expanded the table in the dining room as far as it will go and Will and Mel brought card tables for the kids, even though there are only two of them.

Strange to think that if we do this again next year, there will be four. Double the children.

I cast a glance at Beau, unable to think about the future anymore without thinking about where the two of us might be—not that we’ll be adding a child to the kids’ table, but still. It bothers me that I can’t see that far ahead for the two of us.

I shake it off, squeezing his butt as he finishes carving the turkey. Very badly.

Clearly one of the staff members took care of that duty at Drayton family Thanksgivings.

“Good job there, hot stuff.”

“Yeah, well, squeeze my ass again and I’m probably going to chop off my finger.”

“Point taken. I’m going to open the wine.”

I shift to the other side of the kitchen, next to where Mel is scooping mashed potatoes into a piece of Grams’s pink-patterned china.
 

“You know he’s butchering that turkey, right?” Mel whispers.

“I know. It’ll taste the same, so why burst his bubble?” I concentrate on uncorking four bottles of wine, hoping that will be enough, even with two pregnant women and one recovering alcoholic in the bunch.

Birdie already drank her way through half of one, so nothing seems sure.

“He looks hot doing it, anyway.” Mel shrugs, then moves on to arranging dinner rolls. “I’m glad things are back on track with the two of you. I like you together.”