Macy Beckett - Make You Mine

The text was from Nicky. Hurry back to the Belle. 911!

“Sorry, hon,” Marc said. “We’ve got to go.”

They rushed to the parking lot and hailed a cab. During the ride to the dock, Marc’s body was so stiff, he could have posed as one of the sculptures in the Japanese garden they’d just fled. He spoke on the phone with Nick, and though Allie was only privy to one end of the conversation, she could tell something major had happened to the boat’s engine.

“How bad is it?” she asked when he’d disconnected.

Marc drew a deep breath and let it go in a loud puff. “Bad enough that we’ll be stuck in St. Louis another day.” He leaned forward and cradled his head in both hands. “Maybe two. And that’s assuming I can find someone to fix the train linkage.”

Allie didn’t know what a train linkage was, but it sounded complicated. She scooted nearer to Marc and rubbed his back. “I’ll work with Ella-Claire to keep the guests happy during the layover. Maybe we can throw together a quick gala—everyone loves a party.” When he didn’t reply, she promised, “It’s going to be okay.”

He took one of her hands and held it tightly. “Thank you.” He didn’t say anything more until they reached the Belle.

When they stepped out of the cab and approached the boat ramp, Marc’s pawpaw greeted them with folded arms and a scowl. He stood at the head of the ramp, blocking their entry as Marc’s brothers loitered behind, looking uneasy.

Allie’s internal alarm blared when she realized nobody would make eye contact with her. Then she recognized her luggage heaped into a pile at Pawpaw’s feet, including her backpack of gris-gris supplies.

Allie’s ribs tightened around her sinking heart. They were kicking her off the boat.

Marc noticed, too. He pointed at her suitcase. “What’s all this?”

“It’s your wakeup call, boy,” his granddaddy spat. He nodded toward Allie without giving her the courtesy of a glance. “We’ve had nothin’ but trouble since you brought her on board. Now the engine’s half-busted, and we’re about to get shut down. She’s a blight on this family.” He jabbed a finger at the ground. “It’s gonna end right here.”

Allie’s face burned. She was no stranger to rumors and scrutiny, but this was different. This was personal. But she wouldn’t fight back—she knew how important Marc’s family was to him. Blinking away tears, she took a step toward her bags, but Marc reached out an arm to stop her.

“Miss Mauvais isn’t going anywhere,” he said in a low firm voice that dared anyone to disagree. He locked eyes with Beau. “You all go on and take Allie’s things back to her room.”

Nobody said a word.

Beau scratched his neck and studied the tips of his shoes. “Listen, little brother, I get where you’re coming from. Allie’s a damn fine pastry chef, but folks are starting to talk. I’m not saying this is right, but maybe—”

“When I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you.” Marc’s voice cut like steel, causing his younger brothers to glance nervously at each other. “I said, take Allie’s things back to her room. So either do it, or pack up your own shit and go.” When nobody moved, he added, “Now.”

Slowly, Beau grabbed her suitcase and gave his brothers an encouraging nod. The twins took the rest of her luggage and Worm slung her backpack over one shoulder. They made their way toward the stairs while watching the storm brewing between Marc and his grandfather.

“She’s entranced you, son,” Pawpaw said. “You can’t see it, but I can.”

“Save it. I’ve got enough to deal with.” Marc stepped forward until he was toe-to-toe with the man. “Move aside.”

Pawpaw raised his jaw. “I won’t let you bring her on board my ship.”

“Last time I checked,” Marc ground out, “it was my name on the deed, not yours.”

“If your daddy knew what you were up to, he’d tell you to get your priorities straight.”

Marc didn’t back down. “And I’d tell him to mind his own damn business. Allie’s saved my ass more times than I can count. She stays. I’m your captain—whether you like it or not—and I’m going to give you one last chance to move before I haul you out of the way.”

Pain flashed in his granddaddy’s dark eyes, so much like Marc’s they could pass for father and son. “We’re kin, boy. I spent my whole life building this legacy for you and your brothers. You gonna turn your back on me for a woman?”

Marc clenched his teeth and fell silent, scrubbing a hand over his face and clearly beginning to waver.

“It’s time to choose,” Pawpaw said. “It’s her, or it’s me.”

Shit.

As if Marc didn’t have enough trouble on his hands with the train linkage, now he was facing a full-on mutiny from his own family—the people who were supposed to have his back.

So much for blood being thicker than water.

They could learn a lesson from Allie. She didn’t owe him a damn thing, and yet she’d worked harder than anyone to make this trip a success. The curse wasn’t her fault, and he had no intention of abandoning her in St. Louis.

He’d rather sever his own arm.

“I’m not choosing anything,” Marc said to his pawpaw. “If you can’t support my decisions as captain, then you’re the one turning your back on me, not the other way around.”

Pawpaw’s glare shifted to Allie. “You don’t know what she’s done.”

“Yeah, I do,” Marc said. “Let me tell you what she’s done.” He looked the old man in the eyes while he recounted the story of the Gibsons’ wedding cake and how Allie had stepped aside to keep Chef Regale on board. “She didn’t complain once while she was in the casino, because Allie’s a team player. When she heard about the problems in the engine room, she started planning a party for the guests. I didn’t have to ask—she took the ball and ran with it.” Then Marc said, “What have you done, aside from criticize Allie and call her a witch?”

Pawpaw didn’t have an answer for that question.

“That’s what I thought.” Marc hitched a thumb toward the dock. “Either apologize to Miss Mauvais and get back to work, or fetch your things and call a cab. I’ve got to see to the train linkage.” He pushed around Pawpaw and strode onto the bow ramp, leaving his grandfather to make his decision.

Allie gripped the deck rail, watching Marc’s pawpaw fade into the distance as the Belle’s massive paddle wheel turned a lazy rotation and left the old man behind. A faded yellow taxi pulled into view near the dock, and Pawpaw loaded his duffel bags into the trunk. He shook his head one last time, then climbed into the backseat. Moments later, he was gone.

She couldn’t believe it. Marc had chosen her over his grandfather.

Allie didn’t know what to think about that.

Most women would feel flattered, but she wasn’t most women. Allie cared for Marc, and she hated causing a rift in his family. He’d stormed off to the boiler room an hour ago, but she could sense his pain from a distance—a steady ache beneath her breast that likely wouldn’t let up until she’d helped set things right with his grandpa. And if the ugly words the men had hurled at each other were any indication, peace wouldn’t come easily.

At least the boat’s engine had given them a reprieve, humming to life thirty minutes ago as unexpectedly as it had quit. Releasing a breath, Allie faced the setting sun, a smudge of tangerine glowing through bubble gum clouds. It was a beautiful evening, but there wasn’t time to find a rocking chair and explore her thoughts.

The guests were waiting for dessert.

She returned to the galley and helped serve the eight-layer Peach Decadence cake she’d spent the afternoon baking, then added cookies and bread pudding to the buffet. She cleaned her station and prepared tomorrow’s breakfast menu. When her work was done, she lingered in the kitchen, unsure of where to go next. Should she visit Marc or give him some space?

Deciding to follow her instincts, Allie climbed four flights of stairs to the pilothouse door. After knocking twice, she peeked inside and found him sitting at the helm in his tall captain’s chair.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Just seeing if you need anything before I turn in.”

He swiveled to face her, a pout tugging the corners of his mouth. “My shift’s done in an hour. Can you wait up for me?”

“If that’s what you need.” She stepped inside and slung an arm over his shoulder. With her free hand, she tugged off his hat and brushed her fingers through his loose hair. “Are you sure you don’t want to be alone? I’ll understand.”

Marc pulled her onto his lap. “Sugar, nothing relaxes me like you do.” A shadow seemed to pass over his stunning features, his hands tightening around her hips. “I don’t want to waste one minute of the time we have left by sleeping apart.”

Allie lowered her brows. The time they had left? What was that supposed to mean? “I’m not going to turn into a pumpkin when we dock in New Orleans, you know.”

The irritation must have shown on her face because Marc started backpedaling. “Don’t get the wrong idea—I’m not saying this is just a vacation fling.”

“You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Then what’s with the ticking clock?”

“Come on, Allie,” he said, turning toward the front window. “You know me.” His tone was thick with self-loathing in a way she didn’t like. “Not just me. My whole family—we have a way of ruining everything we touch. Even one another. Today proved that.”

Allie cupped his cheek until he met her gaze. “And you think you’ll ruin me?”