Kissing Books

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by Cat Johnson


  Stone took a step closer and rested his hands on my hips. “Don’t want to piss off the boss.”

  His lips against mine felt like everything good I loved in the world. Warm pajamas fresh out of the dryer. Ice cream melting over hot apple crisp. And coming home to a roaring fire and a house full of family and friends.

  He kissed me for not nearly long enough, but probably far too long considering where we were.

  When he finally broke away, looking as off kilter as I felt, I turned and saw our audience. It seemed everyone had gotten up from the table to witness this. Even the people I didn’t know yet. But I’d get to know them. I knew that. Impossible to avoid in a small town like this.

  Especially since I was planning to stay.

  Mudville was my home. I felt it to my bones. Maybe I’d never quite shaken off that dirt from the pigpen from when I was three.

  Now I just had to figure out an arrangement with Agnes. I’d happily pay rent. And provide any pig, cat and chicken-sitting services she required. I had a feeling she was open to negotiations.

  After all, we were family. Though around here it wasn’t blood which determined that. The people gathered in this room smiling as Stone wrapped his arm around my shoulder were proof.

  Stone leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.” I turned and wrapped my arms around his waist. “That corn still standing at your place?”

  He frowned until realization hit. I watched his eyes brighten with mischief. “No. But I’m confident we can find somewhere else to find privacy. Morgan Farm sells Christmas trees too you know.”

  “I didn’t know. But I think you might have to give me a tour. You know, so I can pick the perfect one.”

  “Agnes usually puts up three trees.”

  “Even better. Might take three trips then.”

  Stone smiled. “I think that can be arranged.” He dropped his forehead to press against mine and groaned. “Soon, I hope.”

  “Definitely soon,” I agreed.

  “Okay, time for dessert. Come on. Somebody grab those pies. And we’ve got Bethany’s pumpkin cheesecake too.”

  Stone dropped a quick kiss on my forehead. “We’ll finish this later.”

  “Yup.” I agreed, even though I knew we’d never be really finished. This was just the beginning.

  From the Journal of Harper Lowry

  MUDVILLE INQUISITOR

  2020

  The Mudville Train Depot was declared a national historic site this week, saving it from the planned radical renovations by the current owners. Local author and president of the Mudville Historical Society Harper Lowry applied for the historic designation.

  EPILOGUE

  Harper

  “Hey, beautiful.” Stone’s words as he came up behind me and spoke them against my ear warmed me from the inside out.

  “Hey.” I was happy to flip the lid of the laptop closed and turn to hug him.

  “Oh, no. Don’t stop working because of me. I just wanted to let you know I was here before I went upstairs to start work.”

  Was he crazy? As if I’d choose work over the man I loved. Especially when I knew he’d be upstairs working on renovating Agnes’s attic for me to move into.

  “I can be done working for the day.”

  “Really? How many words did you write?” He looked at me skeptically.

  Apparently he’d gone from being the Steak Police to the Word Police. My man sure did like to be bossy.

  “Enough I can be done.” I stood and saw the bag in his hand. “What’s that?”

  “A present.”

  “For me?” I asked hopefully.

  “Maybe.” He held it behind his back.

  I frowned. “Hey.”

  He laughed. “Here you go. No need to pout.”

  “Yay.” I grabbed the bag, smiling. “What’s the occasion?”

  It had been almost a year since we’d started seriously dating, a year since I’d given up my apartment in the suburbs and officially moved my life to Mudville, but it wasn’t our official anniversary or anything.

  “No occasion. I just saw it and thought of you. Well, actually I thought of Rose but you too.”

  “Rose?” I was confused until I opened the bag and saw what was inside. A bound leather journal, its blank pages just waiting to be filled. I smiled. “Thank you. I love it.”

  He shrugged. “I figured those journals were a pretty big part of your time here so you might want to start your own.”

  “You’re right. Maybe one day I’ll have a whole trunk full too.”

  He shot me a look. “Well, now, let’s not get crazy.”

  “Harper!” Agnes’s voice filtered to us down the back stairs from the attic.

  “Yes, Aunt Agnes,” I called up the stairs.

  “Hello, Agnes,” Stone called.

  “Hello, Stone. I found something interesting,” she yelled.

  “Do you want us to come up?” I said.

  “No. Stay there. I’m coming down.”

  I heard footsteps on the stairs, and then Agnes was there, dressed fashionably, as always, looking like she could be leaving for a hike in the Catskills or heading to an L.L. Bean photo shoot.

  She had a small ornate wooden box in her hand. “This was Rose’s. I’d forgotten about it, but as I was cleaning up that last pile of stuff in the attic I stumbled upon it.”

  Stone picked it up and tried the latch. “It’s locked. You happen to find a key?” he asked.

  “No. Unfortunately.” Agnes shook her gray head.

  Stone set it down. “I can get it open with a screwdriver. Hang on while I get my tools.”

  “No. Don’t break it.” I picked it up and checked out the lock. “Let me try. Wait here and don’t do anything until I get back.”

  Stone lifted his brows and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Agnes smiled. “Yes, dear. Stone, would you like some tea while we wait?”

  “Sure. Thanks, Agnes. That’d be great.”

  While Agnes occupied Stone with tea, whether he wanted it or not, and kept him from breaking into the box, I ran for the back guest room where all my stuff was stashed until the attic was finished.

  What I needed was buried somewhere in the box of things from my office in my apartment. When my hand hit upon it I felt like doing a victory dance. Grabbing it I ran down the back stairs, which now had a railing and seemed much less deadly thanks to my very handy boyfriend.

  “Got it,” I announced when I hit the kitchen and made a beeline to the box.

  “And what is it?” Stone asked.

  “My lock pick kit.”

  “Your lock pick kit.” He blinked a few times. “Um, Harper. Is there something I should know?”

  “What?” I was so busy working the tiny metal tool into the old lock I wasn’t really able to follow what he was saying.

  “He’s asking if you have a criminal past, dear,” Agnes explained.

  I shot Stone a glare. “Do you not know me at all?”

  “I thought I did, until I saw you picking a lock like a pro.”

  “Research,” I said, over-pronouncing the word for emphasis. “I’m a writer. Remember.”

  “Yes, I do. It’s hard to forget since that’s the reason everyone in this town knows all the intimate details of our life together thanks to your last book.” Stone’s gaze cut to Agnes. “Sorry, Agnes.”

  “It’s okay, dear. I’m a big girl. I know she’s not a virgin.”

  I delivered a wide-eyed stare at Stone. “Now see what you did. I’ll have to live with the memory of my great aunt saying the word virgin for the rest of my life.”

  “You’ll live,” he said flatly.

  “Ooo. I think I almost got it.” A small click and the lock gave way. “It’s open.”

  I looked at Agnes and Stone before I lifted the lid and stared down at the contents of the box. The papers were folded and definitely old. Afraid they were brittle I gingerly lifted t
he top one and slowly unfolded it.

  My eyes widened at what I saw. I glanced at Agnes. “You’re sure this was Rose’s box?”

  “Yes. Definitely. And the reason it wasn’t with the other things was because I didn’t get it after she passed. She gave it to me for safe keeping a couple of years before she died.”

  I swallowed hard and reached for the next paper in the box, confirming my suspicions.

  “Why? What’s in there?” Agnes asked.

  “Stock certificates. Shares of the Disney Corporation. Lots of them.”

  Stone had his phone out as he asked, “How many?”

  I opened the final paper and added the three together. “About a thousand shares.” I glanced at him as he consulted his cell.

  “They’re trading at a hundred and thirty dollars a share.”

  Not that anyone here needed me to do the math, but I did it anyway. “That’s a hundred and thirty thousand dollars.”

  “Is there anything else inside?” Agnes asked.

  I looked back inside and there was a small folded piece of paper.

  After a year of being up close and personal with Rose’s journals, I recognized that paper. It was torn out of one of the books. And on it was scrawled what looked like an impromptu and very unofficial but unmistakable will.

  I had no doubt it had been written by Rose herself. The handwriting was shaky, just like it was in the later journals. But I was sure it was hers. And what she’d written was that she wanted Patience, her friend and caretaker, to have the shares when she died.

  Tears flooded my view. I covered my eyes with one hand and tried to wrap my head around this. The will. The stocks.

  A year after I’d begun this quest I’d finally found what I’d been looking for. After I’d given up all hope, here it was.

  Stone moved closer, his hand on my back. “You okay?”

  I nodded and swiped away the tears before I said, “It’s the will. We have to go tell Patience. And Joe. These are hers. The stocks. It’s all hers.”

  “Well it would have been nice if Rose had warned me about what was in there so I wouldn’t be twenty years late delivering it.” Agnes didn’t pull any punches, not even with her dearly departed friends.

  I let out a teary laugh. “You’re right, Aunt Agnes.” But I was glad I would get to keep my promise to Joe and his mom.

  Stone shook his head. “Just when we thought there was nothing left Rose could spring on us, there’s one more thing.”

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I have a feeling old Rose isn’t done with us yet. She might still have a few surprises hidden around here for us to find.”

  “God, I hope so. Life is boring without surprises. In fact, I believe surprise keeps you young,” Agnes said from the stove where she’d retrieved the tea kettle that had just started to whistle. “And speaking of . . . You two feel free to surprise me anytime. I’m up for anything. A wedding. A baby. I won’t even care what order you choose.”

  I choked on a shocked laugh as my cheeks burned.

  I shot Stone a glance and found him smiling as he said, “Don’t worry. I’m working on it, Agnes.” He met my wide-eyed gaze and laughed. “But I think you embarrassed your niece.”

  “Good. Now come and have some tea. We can deliver those stocks to Patience right after. But then I want you to get upstairs and finish that attic so you two can stop sneaking around to be alone. Two people your age shouldn’t be having sex all over town. People are going to talk.”

  My eyes widened impossibly further from shock and shame but Stone took it all in stride, chuckling as he said, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll get on it.”

  If surprises did keep a person young I was bound to have a long life ahead of me here in Mudville. As Stone enveloped me in his arms and pressed a kiss to my lips, I was more than happy about that.

  Want to read more about Stone, Harper, Agnes, Red, Bethany, Cash, Boone and the other characters of Mudville?

  Read Red’s story in

  RED HOT

  Read Bethany’s story in

  HONEY BUNS

  More stories are coming!

  If you want more fun, steamy, romantic comedy reads like Kissing Books, don’t miss these by Cat Johnson!

  HOT SEAL, DIRTY MARTINI

  HOT SEAL, TIJUANA NIGHTS

  HOT SEAL, RUNAWAY BRIDE

  HOT BILLIONAIRE FOR HIRE

  HOT CHICK FOR HIRE

  HOT SPY FOR HIRE

  HOT HERO FOR HIRE

  FIND THE MOST UP TO DATE LIST OF BOOKS BY CAT JOHNSON AT

  CatJohnson.net/books

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Cat Johnson is a top 10 New York Times bestseller and a top 15 USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance that usually features hot alpha heroes (who sometimes wear combat or cowboy boots) and the sassy heroines brave enough to love them. Known for her unique marketing she has sponsored pro bull riders, owns a collection of camouflage and cowboy boots for book signings, and has used bologna to promote romance novels. She lives in a Queen Anne Victorian on Main Street in a small town in upstate New York with too many cats and chickens, but no pig. Yet.

  More at CatJohnson.net

  KISSING BOOKS

  CAT JOHNSON

  Copyright© 2019 Cat Johnson

  All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 


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