Make You Mine Read Online Free PDF

would ask for your help if you weren’t so scary.”
    “Me?” Devyn pointed at herself, brows forming a V above a pair of pale blue eyes so cold they could frost the sun. “Scary?”
    Allie laughed. “All your boyfriends end up in urgent care, and everyone assumes you jinxed them.”
    “Ex-boyfriends,” Devyn corrected. “And that was a coincidence—all six times. I’ve never hexed anyone.” She considered a moment and tapped her bottom lip. “Though maybe I should. There are plenty of jerks I could practice on . . .”
    “See?” Allie said. “Told you.”
    “You say ‘scary,’ I say ‘public service.’” Devyn flapped a hand. “Potato, po-tah-to.”
    Allie leaned around her sister to peer at the bedside clock. “I’ve got to run. Any last-minute questions?”
    “I don’t think so. Let me make sure I’ve got the important stuff down.” She began listing items on her fingers. “The alarm password is 1987; deliveries come on Tuesdays and Fridays; the credit card reader’s broken, so cash only; don’t take any checks from Mrs. Mason; and I need to be downstairs by four each morning to help the girls bake.” Devyn fired a glare after the last bit. “You
so
owe me.”
    “I’ll take you to Vegas when I get back,” Allie promised. “But just for the weekend, and no tequila this time.”
    “Fine.” Devyn zipped the suitcase, then held her arms out for a hug. “But you’re more fun after a few shots.”
    “You say ‘fun,’” Allie replied, squeezing her sister tight, “I say ‘half-naked in the hotel fountain.’”
    “Potato, po-tah-to.”
    “Thanks, baby.” Grabbing her suitcase, Allie shuffled into the hallway and called, “See you in a couple weeks.”
    “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Devyn hollered after her. “And I would
not
give Marc Dumont any nookie!”
    “Can’t hear
youuuuuu
,” Allie teased as she rushed down the stairs. On her way out the door, she paused to grab her backpack of gris-gris supplies: sacred soil, herbs, coins, flower petals, assorted fabrics, and twine. Her instincts—and Marc’s stress level—told her she’d need to mix a few bags on this trip.
    Though weighed down with twenty pounds of luggage, Allie’s feet barely touched the ground as she made her way to the river. Good things were in store. She could sense it.
    •   •   •
    “Ahoy, sir.” Allie set down her suitcase and stood at attention. “Private Allison Catrine Mauvais reporting for duty.”
    Marc turned from a crate of cargo, dark eyes smiling from beneath the bill of his hat. “Two things, Mauvais.”
    She gave her best soldier’s nod. “First?”
    The pages tacked to his clipboard ruffled in the breeze as he pointed it at the boat. “This isn’t a naval vessel.”
    Of course it wasn’t, but in his gallant uniform, Marc reminded her of Richard Gere in
An Officer and a Gentleman
. He’d even donned white gloves. It was a side of him she’d never seen before, and her tummy had fluttered when she’d caught a glimpse of him earlier that morning. Now she couldn’t stop imagining herself as Debra Winger being scooped into his arms and carried off to his bed.
    “And second?” she asked, corralling her imagination.
    He flashed a smirk. “Allison Catrine?”
    “Yeah.” She folded her arms and stared him down. “What’s funny?”
    “Sugar, with that name, you leave me no choice but to call you Allie-Cat.”
    She smiled, not at the mocking nickname, but at the
sugar
casually tossed into the mix. Whether Marc realized it or not, his guard was slipping.
    “I’ve been called worse,” she told him.
    Just like that, his smile vanished. An expression she couldn’t place, hard and reflective, crossed his features, and she worried she’d said something wrong.
    Nodding at the boat ramp, he ordered, “Go find my brother Alex—he’s the personnel manager. He’ll give you a staff shirt and take you to your room. I’ll need you back out here in about thirty