Make You Mine (22 page)

Aside from her financial woes, it would seem she’d come full circle.

Streamers crisscrossed the dimly lit room, and Snoop Dogg’s “Drop It Like It’s Hot” played from someone’s iPod docking station in the corner. It was like prom night all over again, except for the standing bar erected near the floor mats. She made a beeline for the booze, and once she had a lemon drop martini in hand, she scanned the room for a familiar face.

“Dev!”

A woman’s shout drew Devyn’s attention to a small group gathered on the opposite side of the gym. She squinted in the dim lighting and recognized Margo and some of the other cheerleaders who’d moved away from the bayou after graduation. When Devyn waved, Margo bounced with excitement, then cringed and cradled her pregnant belly between both hands.

“Hey,” Devyn said, joining Margo with outstretched arms.

After a long hug, Margo pulled back to look at Devyn. “You’re stunning. I hate you.” But her warm smile promised the opposite.

“Oh, please.” Devyn flapped a hand and patted her friend’s swollen tummy. “You’re absolutely glowing. Congratulations! Is this your first?”

“Our third,” Margo said and introduced her husband. One by one, each woman in the group did the same until they glanced at Devyn and paused expectantly.

She held up her naked left hand. “Still single.” The girls followed with a chorus of
Good for you
, and
Nothing wrong with that
, but a shadow of pity softened their tones. “My sister, Allie, got married, though,” Devyn said, shamelessly deflecting. “Just a couple of months ago, to Marc Dumont.”

That made eyebrows rise. Until recently, no Dumont man had made it to the altar since the day Memère jinxed their line. Few people believed in the curse, but firsthand experience had shown Devyn it was like thunder—impossible to see, but very real. She still didn’t know how Marc had broken the hex, but for her sister’s sake, she was glad that he had. Allie’s feet hadn’t touched the ground since their Vegas wedding.

“Maybe Beau’s next,” said Margo with a teasing elbow nudge. She nodded toward the gym doors. “He’s been watching you since you walked into the room.”

Devyn glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing there, the top of his head barely clearing the doorway as he leaned against the jamb and folded his muscled arms. He winked at her, and she turned back to Margo with an eye roll. “Don’t hold your breath.”

From there, the discussion turned to careers. Devyn learned that her old cheer squad had gone on to become Web designers, freelance writers, and stay-at-home moms. When her turn came to share, Devyn played it off with a carefree shrug. “I haven’t quite decided what I want to be when I grow up.”

Everyone laughed and Devyn was able to unclench her shoulders. Margo had just pulled out her iPhone to show everyone pictures of her children when she glanced across the room and squealed in delight. “Jenny’s here! And Slade!”

Devyn smoothed the front of her dress, sucked in her tummy, and turned slowly toward the gym entrance to catch a glimpse of her nemesis. Would Jenny’s eyes have grown dull, darkened by circles of exhaustion? Had her golden hair faded with time and too much chemical processing? Would Slade have lost half his hair and gained a hundred pounds?

As it turned out, no.

The pair strutted into view looking better than ever, damn it.

Jenny tossed a curtain of glossy blond hair over one shoulder, rocking a designer halter dress paired with knee-high stiletto boots. Even in the dim lighting, a set of obscenely large diamond studs winked from her earlobes, and she made sure everyone spotted the quilted Chanel bag on her shoulder. Slade was dressed more like a Greek billionaire than the soccer stud that Devyn remembered. Whatever the pair had been up to these past ten years, they had clearly made more money than the Rockefellers.

The bastards.

After a round of hugs and hellos, Jenny pinned Devyn with a critical gaze. “Well, if it isn’t Devyn Mauvais. Bless your little heart.”

Whatever. Every Southern girl knew that was code for
go die in a fire
.

Devyn smiled sweetly. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite
Hore
.”

“Actually, it’s Summers now.” Jenny thrust forward her left hand to display a diamond approximately the size of the moon.

Devyn quietly sipped her martini, but her lack of enthusiasm didn’t stop Jenny from launching into a story about her sunset-wedding ceremony on a private beach just outside Cabo San Lucas. For the next ten minutes, she spun a tale of nauseating excess that had the whole group transfixed. Even Beau Dumont had ambled over to hear the details.

Devyn had long since tuned out the prattle, so she was caught off guard when Jenny abruptly stopped and pointed at her.

“What?” Devyn asked.

Jenny covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Nice dress, Dev.”

Devyn stood a bit straighter and smiled. “Thanks. I picked it up for a steal.”

“I know,” Jenny said. “From the Tulane Avenue Goodwill, right? That’s where I donated it.” She leaned down to inspect the side hem. “Yep. There’s the stain I never could get out.”

Devyn stopped breathing.

“It looks cute on you, though,” Jenny added with a shrug that said,
But not as good as it looked on me
. “One girl’s trash is another girl’s treasure, right?”

At once, Devyn felt the weight of two dozen gazes shifting in her direction. Her upper body went numb, as if she had slept with both arms tucked beneath her pillow and cut off her circulation. Several charged beats passed in silence before she forced a wide grin and toasted her enemy. “Are you calling a Gucci design trash? I do believe that’s blasphemy.”

A few people chuckled, but it was a
this-is-getting-awkward
kind of laugh.

Jenny smoothed her fingers possessively through Slade’s hair. “You crack me up, Dev. Always have.”

Maybe it was the public humiliation, or maybe it was the martini, but something hijacked Devyn’s vocal cords and forced her to blurt out, “That’s what my boyfriend says.”

Oh, shit. What had she just done?

“Hey.” Margo delivered a good-natured shove. “You didn’t say anything about a boyfriend. Spill! I want to hear all about him.”

“Yes,” Jenny said as if sniffing blood in the water. “Spill.”

It took a moment for Devyn to find her voice. “He’s . . . great. Big and gorgeous and super sweet. We’re crazy about each other.”

“Is he local?” asked Margo.

“Uh . . . kind of.”

“Kind of?” Jenny asked with an arched brow. “What’s his name?”

Yeah, you idiot
, Devyn chided herself.
What’s his name?
“I can’t say. We’re keeping things on the down low.” Double shit! Who actually said
on the down low
anymore?

“What does he do for a living?” asked Margo.

Devyn said the first thing that came to mind. “He owns a business.” When that didn’t seem to satisfy anyone, she fumbled, “I can’t say anything more, or you’ll know who he is.”

The triumphant smile that curled Jenny’s lips said she knew it was a lie. And clearly she would take great pleasure in raking Devyn over the coals. “Oh, come on,” Jenny crooned. “Give us a hint. We won’t tell.” She glanced around at her friends. “Will we?”

Everyone shook their heads and peered at Devyn, waiting for her to speak. Her eyes locked with Beau’s for one interminable moment, the intensity behind his gaze hot enough to tighten her stomach. Why did he have to be here to witness this? She had always hoped to make him sorry one day, but he probably thought he’d dodged a bullet when he ditched her all those years ago.

“Go on,” Jenny prodded. “Tell us who he is.”

Devyn’s palms began to sweat. This was like a nightmare, only worse. Because she would rather deliver a naked speech in front of the whole school than admit she’d invented a fictitious boyfriend. Just when she opened her mouth to dig herself a deeper hole, Beau crossed through the center of the group and stood by her side.

Slipping an arm around her waist, Beau pulled her hard against him and announced, “It’s me. I’m Dev’s boyfriend—
and
her boss.”