by Emmy Grace
As if he knows this conversation needs a definitive end, I hear the whir of the window as Clive rolls it up. Seconds later, with Victor glaring at me through the glass, the SUV pulls away.
I make a point not to watch it go. I look up at the sky. The beautiful, blue, winter sky.
Suddenly, I’m tired.
Like really tired.
As if sensing the way my legs are wilting, Liam sweeps me up into his arms and carries me toward his truck. He isn’t looking down at me, but straight ahead. It gives me time to admire how absolutely gorgeous he is and how long his eyelashes are.
“What?” he asks without moving his eyes.
I grin. “Just admiring your pretty eyelashes.”
“I don’t have pretty eyelashes.”
“You most definitely do.”
“I most definitely do not.”
“I’m staring right at them. And you really do.”
“I do not. Men don’t have pretty eyelashes.”
“Then what kind do they have?”
“They have manly eyelashes.”
“What are manly eyelashes?”
“They’re like…weapons.”
“Weapons?” I’m having a hard time suppressing my laughter.
It’s only now that he brings those dazzling eyes down to mine. There’s mischief in them.
“They disarmed you, didn’t they?”
“Hardy har har,” I snort snidely.
He jerks up one eyebrow. “Didn’t they?”
I shrug. “I guess they kinda did.”
“That’s what I thought.”
His long legs eat up the short distance, and before long Liam is turning so that I can open the passenger side door. Then he plops me up on the seat. I’m buckling my seatbelt when he opens his door and climbs in on the driver’s side.
“So, what else do these amazing eyelashes do?” I ask.
“If I told you I’d have to kill you.”
“It might be worth it.”
“Or I could just show you,” he says, sending me a steamy glance as he starts the engine.
I tell ya what, he starts my engine for sure.
“Oh, that sounds interesting.”
One side of his mouth pulls up into a sexy grin. Or at least Liam’s version of it.
“You have no idea.”
I like the sound of that.
20
The table is cleared.
The dishes are done.
The tree is lit.
The music is playing.
And my living room is positively stuffed with people that I love.
Beebee. Momma Leona. Regina. Liam. Clive and his wife. Miss Haddy. Malcolm. Mrs. Stephanopoulos.
There are gifts piled two feet deep under the tree. It seems the same spirit of giving struck all of us this year.
We all take seats, the older folks on the chairs and sofa, the younger, more flexible of us on the floor. Without being told, Liam starts distributing gifts.
I have a present from everyone, just like I bought a present for everyone. These are my people. It’s my good pleasure to guy them things I believe they might like.
We all laugh and revel over the presents we got each other. Like Mrs. Stephanopoulos giving everyone a coupon for free shooting lessons with her at the firing range, or Miss Haddy giving everyone a single free favor from Felonious.
“Only in a town like this would a favor from a teenager be so valuable,” Regina says.
“Got that right,” comes a voice from somewhere near the kitchen.
I recognize it, but there’s not body to go along with it.
I get up and walk toward the kitchen, repeating “hello” as I go.
“Over here,” she says, and I follow the sound of her voice to my own cell phone. I pick it up and see that it’s on speaker phone.
“Just because I didn’t want to show my face to you bunch of old fogies didn’t mean I didn’t want to be there,” Felonious explains.
“So, you hacked my phone? Really?”
“I didn’t have to hack it. I did that a long time ago.”
I sigh, but I’m still smiling. Somehow that feels like having a guardian angel. A moody, temperamental one. “Of course, you did.”
“Oh, you love me, and you know it.”
“I guess you’ll do,” I tell her.
“I’ll let you meet me one of these days. If you think you can handle it. I’m like a ghost.”
“I ain’t afraid of no ghost.” I laugh even as I say it, and Regina yells “Ghostbusters!” from the living room.
“And I’m out,” Felonious says. “Merry Christmas, Lucky. Try to stay out of trouble at least until the new year.”
“I make no promises,” I tell her, but she might already be gone.
Before I can get back over to the raucous party in my living room, Liam approaches me. His hands are behind his back and his eyes are light. Always a sign of something delicious, I’m learning.
“What are you up to?” I ask, winding my arms around his waist.
“I have something for you.”
“I already opened it.”
“Not this. This is just for your eyes,” he explains.
“Oh! Do tell.”
Liam brings one of his hands out from behind his back. Pinched between his fingers is a key.
“I want you to have this,” he says.
“What’s it to?”
Please say your heart.
“My front door.”
Not his heart, but that’ll do for now. Liam is so private and so protective, and so protective of his privacy, that this must be a huge step for him.
“But I didn’t get you a key to my place.”
“No need. Everyone can get in here.”
I can’t argue that. “Good point.”
Slowly, he hands me the key. When I reach for it, he presses it firmly into my palm. “I’ve never given someone a key to my house. You… This is…”
I glance down at the key. I close my fingers around the it, and he closes his fingers around my fist.
“I know,” I tell him.
He nods.
I smile.
I know exactly what he’s trying to say. This—whatever this is between us—is special. It’s unique. It’s important. I feel it and now I know he does, too.
He moves his fingers around and raises my knuckles to his mouth. With his eyes on mine, he kisses each one, one at a time, then he rubs his thumb over them, like he’s trying to seal the touch of his lips into my skin. Little does he know, that touch is already sealed into me. Sealed in my heart. In my soul.
“Merry Christmas, Lucky,” he says quietly.
“Merry Christmas, Liam.”
And a merry Christmas it has been. Maybe the merriest of all.
THE END
Thank you
I wanted to very quickly thank you for spending your valuable time with me. So much of my heart is in this story, in these characters and their lives, and I’m profoundly grateful to be able to share them with you. It’s one of my greatest desires in life to bring GOOD to this world. Light, joy, laughter, happiness. I hope you found one (or all) of those things in the pages of this book. If you did, I hope you’ll consider spreading the word about it. Tell a friend, leave a review, gift a copy to someone you know who needs a pick me up. All around us, at any given time, people are hurting, and I truly believe that laughter is great medicine. It would be such an incredible blessing if, together, we could bring joy to someone else, even if just for a few hours. Sometimes that can mean the difference between giving up and pressing on.
I want you to know that I deeply appreciate that you chose this book. It’s a dream come true to be able to do what I believe the Lord created me to do, and I’m indescribably honored to have you along for the ride:)
God bless!
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About the Author
I'm a writer, mostly of awesomely fun mysteries that no one should take too seriously. I imagine that I should say something deep and profound about myself or my life philosophy, but I'd much rather fling facts like cool ninja throwing stars.
FACT: I'm a devoted if slightly neurotic wife, an indefatigable lover of animals, and an absolute fanatic of all things funny.
FACT: I'm probably alarmingly similar to Lucky, minus the daredevil streak and the unbreakable parts.
FACT: I'm such a homebody that seeing me out in the wild is something like spotting Sasquatch, only with less hair and less fanfare.
FACT: I'm a nerd and a Southerner, and my preferred wardrobe consists of pants that stretch and a t-shirt with writing on it.
FACT: I love my job and I hope I get to do this forEVER.
FACT: I’m so grateful to you for reading my work:)
Also by Emmy Grace
Lucky and the Falling Felon
Lucky and the Axed Accountant
Lucky and the Banged-up Ballerina
Lucky and the Crushed Clown
Lucky and the Drowned Debutante
Lucky and the Electrocuted Ex
Lucky, Series Books 1-3 Boxed Set
Lucky, Series Books 4-6 Boxed Set