* * *
Amelie shook her head, her brow creased. “What spirits?”
His eyebrow rose. “You believe all that Voodoo mumbo jumbo?”
“Whether you believe it or not, being forewarned means we can be forearmed. Think.” Amelie paced behind the counter. “Spirits be stirrin’. Like ghosts?”
When Maurice didn’t respond, Amelie glared at him. “Seriously. I’ve seen results from some of Gisele’s predictions, potions and spells.”
Maurice sighed and chose to participate in the riddle, even if he wasn’t convinced Voodoo was real. “Spirits could be the ghosts of the past.”
Her eyes met his. “Armand, Germaine and Celine Benoît? Or Nazis?”
“Let’s go with Germaine and Celine Benoît. They had a lot to lose, leaving their home in Paris.”
“Dark waters will rise.” Amelie chewed on her bottom lip, drawing Maurice’s attention to it, and making him want to kiss it.
He dragged his thoughts back to the riddle. “The bayou is full of dark water. It could rise in a storm.”
“Okay, sounds good,” Amelie said, nodding. “How about dance once with death?”
A heaviness settled in Maurice’s chest. He hadn’t liked this part of the prediction. He’d danced with death and lost his fiancée in the process. “Could it be someone will try to kill one of us?” Maurice asked, though he hated even saying the words. If one of them was targeted, he prayed it would be him, not Amelie. Or that he’d be able to save her this time.
“Or both?” Amelie suggested. “I know you’ll have my back. I’ll have yours as well.”
Maurice smiled at the image that rose in his mind of Amelie, a Valkyrie with her sword held high to protect her man.
Only he wasn’t her man.
That thought made his smile slip. She deserved a man worthy of her devotion. That wasn’t him.
“We’ll have to keep our eyes open for danger,” she said and touched his arm. “I’m glad I have you for protection.”
He hoped he lived up to her expectations. “Through the dark night, let hope be your guide. Whatever happens could be at night.”
“Maybe…” Amelie tilted her head. “Or it could be evil casting a dark pall on us, versus the literal darkness of night.”
Maurice nodded. “So, we can’t bank on danger occurring at night.”
“Trust your heart, cher—For love will survive,” Amelie said softly. “Whose love? The ghosts’? Armand’s love for his estranged wife? His love for his son?”
Maurice didn’t say it, but the thought sprang to his mind. Amelie.
Amelie would survive.
Another thought followed on the heels of that one. Would he fall in love with her? Would she fall in love with him?
Maurice reminded himself that the prediction was a bunch of voodoo nonsense. He wasn’t going to fall in love with Amelie. She wasn’t going to fall in love with him. Gisele didn’t have to worry that he would break Amelie’s heart.
Amelie scrubbed her hands down her face. “Between Mr. Schulz’s visit and Gisele’s ominous prophecy, I’m a little...” She wrapped her arms around her middle and shook her head.
“Freaked out? Unnerved? Disturbed?”
Her lips twitched and spread into a smile. “Hungry.”
Maurice barked out a laugh, the tension leaving the air. “What time do you close?”
She glanced at the clock on the wall. “In an hour.”
