Page 19 of Ride Me

Chapter 4

The homemade chime over the door jangled a joyful note of welcome as Allegra limped in, her muscles sore from the afternoon walk.

Maybe she should have taken that carriage ride she’d been offered on the way over, but she hadn’t exactly been thinking straight. Sleep had been elusive.

For both of you.

She’d watched Rousseau through the window last night. He’d been pacing back and forth like a caged animal. A naked and aroused animal who was, thankfully, alone in his apartment. She hadn’t been able to look away.

She could tell he was angry. Frustrated. And his long hair was gone, which was a shock, but not a disappointing one. The man was even more attractive than she’d realized.

Was that why he’d closed the café down and disappeared? To get a haircut?

Had he made that decision himself, or had Bone Daddy had a hand in it?

Was he thinking of her? Were they?

She’d been glad Michelle slept through her peeping, or she might have asked those questions out loud, and they’d both been avoiding a return to their last conversation.

Allegra knew Michelle was hoping the book would resolve the issue for them. And yes, learning your obsession was not in total control of his actions due to voodoo? Experiencing an orgasm with a spirit from the other side? For most sane women, that would usually be the end of it.

Relationships were hard enough to navigate without mischievous Loa getting involved, right?

But Rousseau still called to her. If sex was all it was, she definitely could have found someone with less baggage. Someone she wouldn’t have to wait for, making a fool of herself as other women took what she wanted.

Instead of jealousy or resentment at all the obstacles between them, what she’d felt when she looked at him was a longing to soothe his hurt, to make him smile like he had that first day when she’d gotten him to laugh. He didn’t laugh enough, even with Ben Adair as his witty sidekick. But then she might not be laughing either if a Loa decided to wear her like a prom dress.

The tenderness and concern she felt for him was her first clue that this wasn’t a mere obsession. She was falling fast. Falling for a man who, according to the evidence she could no longer deny, was tangled up in something straight out of a New Orleans fairytale.

She didn’t know the first thing about possessions and curses. So she’d come to the only person she knew who did.

“Bonswa, Allegra. How’s that bath oil working for you?”

Mambo Toussaint’s voodoo shop was a warm, welcoming place that always made her long to linger. Every nook and shelf was filled with herbs, trinkets or books. So many books. Most of them filled with lore and ritual, like the one Michelle had made her read.

The priestess believed that knowledge “took the hoodoo from the voodoo” and allowed practitioners to find the true magic inside themselves instead of being bogged down in superstition.

Of course, she was no fool. She also carried items for the tourists, things people could take back with them when they went home that told others, without a doubt, they’d been to NOLA.

The petite woman behind the counter was beaming at her from beneath a bright headscarf and more jewelry than she’d ever owned. Everything about her gave off a joyful energy that soothed Allegra and made her smile. “It’s working perfectly. I’ll never be able to thank you enough. How are you today?”

“Better than you, I think.” Michelle’s mother hopped down off her stool with enviable ease and rushed over on a breeze that smelled of cloves and magnolia blossoms, wrapping Allegra up in her warm embrace. “Come, sit on my sofa and give your leg a rest. I’ll introduce you to my friend Elise.”

Allegra allowed Michelle’s mother to guide her to the small sofa in the corner of the shop, her gaze on the older blonde standing beside it and watching her closely. Her smart, elegant outfit and sleekly styled bob should make her look out of place in the comfortable clutter, but it didn’t. And everything about her was familiar, from her eyes to her slightly devilish smile.

She remembered Ben telling her that his mother and Michelle’s were fast friends when they were growing up. “Any relation to Ben Adair?”

Elise gifted her with a wider, more genuine grin and came to sit down beside her, casually laying a hand on her arm. “Benjamin is my son. And you must be the adventurous writer he’s told me about.”

Allegra blushed. “More of a wannabe travel journalist currently on sabbatical, and I’m not sure I want to know what he’s been telling you. But you don’t look old enough to be his mother.”

“Oh, I like you. I like her, Annemarie.”

“Thought you might,” Mambo Toussaint said with a fond smile. “My Michelle has good taste in best friends.”

“That she does.” She squeezed Allegra gently. “We were just talking about our stubborn offspring when you came in. Bemoaning our lack of grandchildren. Thankfully you’ve come to take our minds off our maternal woes.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

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