The House on Prytania (Royal Street #2)(35)
Author: Karen White

 

I tried to pull away, but his arms held me. “I tried. I texted you. I asked if you could talk and you said no.”

 

He narrowed his eyes as he thought, then opened them again with realization. “Oh, yeah. I remember now. I was . . . busy.”

 

I wanted to ask him what had been keeping him so busy, but my jaw started to tremble again, the shaking spreading through my body like a heat rash. Beau pressed my head against his chest and tightened his arms around me. “I’ve got you now.” He spoke softly in my ear, creating a whole new set of goose bumps on my neck. “I would have been scared, too.”

 

“I wasn’t scared,” I mumbled into his shirt.

 

His chest rumbled as he laughed. “I’m sure. It must have been someone else screaming.”

 

I sat up again. “I wasn’t screaming. I was just . . . shouting. For someone to open the door, because it was locked.”

 

Beau’s eyes were serious now. “It wasn’t locked, Nola. I pulled it open without any trouble.” He shook his head before I could protest. “I believe you. Obviously, there’s something going on here.”

 

“But what? I can’t live here with something that doesn’t want me here. It was—”

 

“Terrifying.”

 

“Yeah. That.”

 

He kept looking at me, as if expecting me to say something more. “Oh. Right.” I took a deep breath. “Thank you, Beau. For saving me from . . . whatever that was. Even though I didn’t—”

 

“Don’t say it. Because that will make you look ungrateful. And then the next time I might not just drop everything to come save you.”

 

“I don’t need—”

 

He put his finger against my lips. “Don’t ruin it.”

 

Our eyes met, and I forgot what I’d been about to say. His thumb traced the edges of my mouth, the smell of his skin hauntingly familiar, a ghostly reminder of the night he’d spent on my couch.

 

“Just when I’m starting to think that you’re mad at me or really hate me, I’m reassured when I’m the first person you call when you’re in trouble. I’m trying to figure out what that means.”

 

I wanted to give him a few pointed suggestions, but the movement of his thumb against my skin mesmerized me, softening my body so that I relaxed into the curve of him. We fit together seamlessly, without any awkwardness, like solid wooden joists that understood the burdens of time and air and needed no adjustments.

 

Beau pressed his forehead against mine. “I’m just glad you texted me. I don’t want to think about how long you’d have been stuck inside there.”

 

His words shook me from my stupor. I pulled back to look at him. “What? I didn’t text you. Not since last night when I asked if you could talk.”

 

“But someone did. From your phone. I could show you, but you’d have to get off of my lap.”

 

Neither one of us moved, too afraid to confirm what we’d find on his phone. Or maybe the way our bodies were nestled into each other was like the force caused by the meeting of two magnets.

 

My phone rang, and I sprang from Beau’s lap to answer it.

 

“Nola—where are you?” I didn’t need to look at the screen to identify Jolene’s voice. “I’ve been calling and calling and I was fixin’ to call the police. Do you have any idea what time it is? At this rate we’ll be lucky to hose you down outside and slap on some lipstick and heels.”

 

I pushed aside that visual. “I’m sorry—I’ll explain later. I’m leaving now.” I ended the call before she could make any more suggestions about how to hurry my beautification process with gardening tools.

 

Beau had already stood. “I’ll drive you.”

 

I was still too shaken by my ordeal to argue, so I only nodded before heading toward the stairs. My hand was firm against the banister as I carefully made my way to the bottom.

 

As we walked out onto the front porch, I paused by my bike. “Hang on. We need to put this in your truck.”

 

Beau kept walking. “I think it’s safe, Nola. Even if a thief were brave enough to step up onto this porch, no one wants to be seen riding a bike with a banana seat and a giant basket with flowers.”

 

“Very funny. All I need is one drunk guy to steal my bike and I don’t have any way to get around town.” When he looked at me expectantly, I added, “Please.”

 

As Beau hauled my bike into the back of his truck, he said, “You didn’t ask me what I was so busy doing last night that I couldn’t talk when you texted.”

 

I focused my gaze on the door handle of the truck. “I figured it was none of my business.”

 

“Well, it was. Kinda. Christopher, Trevor, and I were installing your new kitchen island. It was supposed to be a surprise, and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

 

“Oh. It’s . . . amazing. It’s so perfect. I saw it when I first got here and I had no idea where it had come from, but I love it. It’s only . . .” I bit my lip, hearing Jolene in my head saying something about looking a gift horse in the mouth. “It’s only that I didn’t put an island in the plans because it was over budget. And that piece, well, it’s special, and an antique, and I know I can’t afford it.”

 

“I think you can.” He closed the truck’s tailgate. “Climb in and I’ll tell you about it on the way home. Unless you’d prefer to drive.”

 

I quickly hauled myself into the passenger seat and shut the door.

 

Beau put the truck in drive and pulled out into the street. “Christopher brought Trevor to his first estate auction last weekend, and when Trevor saw the breakfront he said it would be perfect for your kitchen.”

 

I shifted in my seat to look directly at Beau. “Trevor bought it? But where did he get the money? All the money he’s making at the store is supposed to go into his computer fund.”

 

“Come on, Nola. Do you think Christopher would allow that?”

 

“No,” I said slowly, already wondering how I could return the breakfront without hurting Trevor’s feelings.

 

Beau slammed on the brakes as a driver ignored a stop sign on a side street and pulled out in front of us. He frequently reminded me that if I could learn to drive in New Orleans, I could drive anywhere. “It was at the end of the auction, and they were going to scrap the breakfront because it was in bad shape and missing its top. Trevor brokered the deal—offering to haul it away for free if some of their guys could put it in the van. That boy’s a born salesman.”