Mayhem & Mistletoe

by Amanda M. Lee

  He smirked. “I think you’re saying you’ve missed me.”

  “I have.”

  “You’re the one acting weird. You can put a stop to this whenever you want.”

  “I can’t. I’m afraid to allow you to get too mushy because then you’ll do it.”

  “Do what?”

  I hated how smug he looked. “You know what, and making fun of me isn’t very encouraging. You always say you want me to open up to you. I can’t if I’m afraid.”

  He sobered. “That’s a good point. But the thing you’re frightened of is something you’ve created in your head.”

  “Um, no. You put it in my head.” I jabbed his chest. “You’re the one who said you were going to propose.”

  “I am. Do you want to know why?”

  “Because you want to drive me insane.”

  He chuckled. “Because I love you.”

  “You loved me before you brought up the M-word.”

  “I’m going to love you forever.”

  I pressed my eyes shut. The fact that he could say something so romantic — and mean it — had my heart threatening to convulse.

  “You’re afraid that marriage will mean you’re no longer Avery Shaw,” he continued. “You think that somehow putting a ring on your finger means you’ll lose autonomy, that you’ll be Mrs. Eliot Kane.”

  My eyes popped open. “That’s never going to happen.”

  He laughed so hard he almost choked.

  “I mean it,” I warned. “I’m Avery Shaw.”

  “And you always will be,” he reassured me when he recovered. “I don’t want you to be anything other than who you already are. If you could occasionally check your mouth at the door, that would be a welcome development, but I don’t expect miracles.”

  I glowered at him and he sobered.

  “It’s not about you being my wife,” he offered. “I mean ... I think I might get a little thrill telling people Avery Shaw is my wife. It’s about me being your husband. I want to pledge myself to you forever. I want to be an official part of the team.

  “In the grand scheme of things, almost nothing will change,” he continued. “I know you still don’t want kids, and I’m fine with that. I just want to make a promise to each other ... and maybe get a tax break here and there.”

  I chewed my bottom lip.

  “It’s okay if you’re still not ready,” he cajoled in a soft voice. “I know you’ll get there eventually. We’re trying to ensure happily ever after here. I need you to open your heart to the possibility.”

  “And you don’t think I have opened my heart to you?” I prodded. “If you believe that, why do you even want to be around me?”

  “I believe you’ve opened your heart to me,” he countered quickly. “I simply want to completely join our lives. I believe you want that too.”

  “I thought we already had joined our lives.” I didn’t want to come across as pouty, but that’s how I felt. “If this isn’t going to be any different, then why are you trying to give me an aneurysm?”

  “Because I want what I want.” He slid his arm around my waist and tugged me to him. “I told myself I was going to wait — years if necessary — until you were ready. But I’m ready now. I want you to be my forever. You’ll come to grips with it.”

  “Eliot ....”

  “Avery.” He kissed my forehead and grabbed the remote. “What do you want to watch?”

  “Friday the 13th. I feel like only a masked killer can lift my mood.”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Which one do you want? I’m guessing two or six.”

  I narrowed my eyes. He thought he knew everything. “Seven.”

  “Oh, the one with the telekinetic girl. Good choice.” He kept his arm around me and started searching for the movie. “I think a little horror before bed will do us good.”

  He would think that. “I’m still freaking out about this. You know that, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “I might never be ready.”

  His smile turned smug. “You’ll be ready a lot sooner than you think.”

  I really hoped that wasn’t true.

  ELIOT FELL ASLEEP BEFORE THE end of the movie. I didn’t disturb him, being careful to utilize small movements when I retrieved my iPad from the coffee table. Rocky was sprawled between his legs, and the two of them lightly snored in tandem.

  I took advantage of the quiet to search for the name Beau Burton. When Jake inadvertently let it slip, it triggered something in my memory. I couldn’t exactly remember from where. The name was distinctive enough to have me looking ... and it didn’t take long to find it.

  “Holy crap!”

  Next to me, Eliot stirred. His eyes were cloudy when they opened and focused on the tablet. “Is the movie over?”

  I nodded. “You missed your favorite part.”

  “It’s not as if we won’t watch it another hundred times.” He rubbed his cheek against mine. “Ready for bed?”

  “Just a second.”

  “I’ll give you a bunch of seconds in bed,” he promised.

  “Oh, now you’re awake.” I used my fingers to enlarge the news article on my screen. The byline belonged to Marvin, and now I knew why I remembered Beau Burton. “This is one of the dead guys.”

  “Hmm?” Eliot’s lips were warm on my neck.

  “The dead guys in the Santa suits. Jake mentioned his name at dinner.”

  Eliot let loose a long-suffering sigh and pulled away long enough to look at the tablet. “I’m trying to seduce you, Avery. I don’t care about dead Santas.”

  “If you listen for five minutes, you won’t have to seduce me. I’ll willingly throw myself at you.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” He snuggled closer and focused on the article. “What am I looking at?”

  “Beau Burton.”

  “And Jake mentioned him at dinner?”

  I nodded. “It was when he was talking about Tad. He said that he never takes responsibility for anything and he’s worried Tad will be able to jam his cockamamie plan through. Then he said something about Beau Burton’s name being added to the mix and adding problems.”

  “And you remembered that despite everything else that happened?”

  “I filed it away.”

  “Because you’re like a shark.” He lightly tapped the side of my head. “You never stop.”

  “I’m the shark in Jaws.”

  He smirked. “So, what’s the deal with Beau Burton? Who is he?”

  “A scam artist. He owned a car dealership for a time ... and, like, ten other businesses. He always sold them when they got into financial trouble, leaving the mess for somebody else to clean up. He also started romancing older women in the country club set ... multiples at the same time.”

  “You mean he was a grifter.”

  “Pretty much. He dated them until they lost interest in giving him money. A few times he secured significant loans from these women — nothing with a contract of course — and then broke up with them and cut off contact. When called on the carpet about his behavior, he denied getting the loans and painted the women as desperate and lonely.”

  “Sounds like a peach of a guy.” Eliot propped himself on an elbow. “Do you think he was one of the guys in the Santa suits?”

  “Jake didn’t come right out and say that, but it sounds feasible.”

  “What happened to this Beau guy regarding the women? If there’s a news story, I’m guessing he went to jail.”

  I shook my head. “He was charged and brought to trial, but the jury let him off. The prosecutor was going to go after him a second time, with a different set of charges, but it never came to fruition. That was at least a year ago, maybe longer. I’d forgotten about it.”

  “So how did he end up in a Santa suit by the train tracks?”

  “That’s a very good question.”

  He was silent a moment, and then he snagged the tablet from me. “It’s a question you can start your quest to answer tomorrow.”


  “Hey!” I protested. “I was reading that.”

  “You can read more tomorrow.” He slipped his arms under my legs and grunted as he stood, rolling my body against his chest. “It’s bedtime.”

  “Maybe I’m not ready for bed.”

  “I’ll make it worth your while.” He trudged toward the bedroom. “Just think, once you say yes to my proposal, this will be a regular occurrence.”

  I made a face. “I get sex all the time and we’re not married. That’s not much of a selling point.”

  He laughed. “I meant carrying you to bed. If you’re a good girl, play your cards right, I might be convinced to do this every night for the rest of our lives.”

  “I am capable of walking.”

  “You’re also a lot of work.” He paused in the doorway that led to our bedroom. “Did I mention I’m going to put up mistletoe from one end of the house to the other tomorrow? Wherever you are, you’ll have to stop and kiss me.”

  “I don’t believe that’s a law or anything.”

  “It’s the mistletoe rule. You can’t break the mistletoe rule.”

  “I’m Avery Shaw. I break all the rules.”

  His grin widened. “That’s why I love you.”

  He was so earnest all I could do was acquiesce. “Fine. Romance me. I’m chasing those dead Santas hard tomorrow, though.”

  “I expect nothing less.”

  6 Six

  Eliot was watching me when I opened my eyes the next morning. Instinctively, I wiped at my face and tried to wrap my head around a new day.

  “Drool?”

  He smirked. “Maybe a little. It’s okay. I like being drooled on.”

  “Then you must love spending time with me.”

  “More than anything.”

  His response was so earnest it tugged a sigh out of me. “You’re going to wear me down, aren’t you?”

  His grin was lightning quick, mischievous. “That’s not the plan. I want you to want this, not accept it.”

  He had a full day’s worth of beard that needed shaving, even though he was more handsome than usual. The fact that he was being so open and honest with his feelings these days should’ve been welcome.

  Instead I felt antsy.

  “Eliot ....”

  “Shh.” He admonished me with a kiss before I could start complaining. “It’s how I feel. I won’t apologize for it.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted you to apologize. It’s just ... what if I’m bad at it?” I finally put a name to the fear that plagued me most. What if, after a year of marriage, Eliot decided he’d made a mistake?

  “Bad at what?”

  “This.” I used a big hand gesture to indicate the two of us. “What if I’m bad at being married?”

  He snickered. “Are you planning on suddenly becoming a different person?”

  “No.”

  “Then why would you be bad at marriage?”

  “Because ... I’m Avery Shaw.”

  “I know who you are.” He tickled my ribs, causing me to squirm. “I fell in love with Avery Shaw. She’s my favorite person in the world.”

  “But ....”

  He waited, and when my silence continued, he sighed. “Avery, I told you last night — and a hundred other times — that marriage won’t change our lives. I need it. I want a promise from you, and I want to make a promise in return. I’m not asking you to be anything other than who you are.”

  “What if you change your mind?”

  “I won’t. You’re all I want.”

  That was a sweet sentiment, but I wasn’t sure it would stick. “What if, a year from now, you decide that you don’t like it when I dig into a case and find trouble?”

  His grin widened. “I already don’t like it when you find trouble. But that’s who you are. I took on the whole package when I decided I couldn’t live without you.”

  I licked my lips, determined to proceed. “Yeah, but what if you’re only able to swallow it now because we’re still building to something. It’s possible, after the wedding, that you won’t want to work for it anymore.”

  He feigned patience — or maybe he really was that patient, which would be just like him — as he brushed my hair from my face. “I don’t think a couple ever stops working at things. People grow and change. That’s the natural order of things. The key is to keep at it as you grow and change together.

  “I’ll love you as much as I do now ten years in the future,” he continued. “Heck, I guess it’s possible I’ll love you more. What’s not possible is me loving you less.”

  “But ....”

  “No.” He made a face and pressed his finger to my lips. “I love you beyond reason, Avery. I had no idea when you first walked into my shop that you were going to become my life — and I would’ve called anyone who suggested such a thing at the time a filthy liar — but we fit. I think the reason you’re so worked up about this is because you know we fit and you can’t figure out how it happened.”

  He wasn’t wrong, which only irritated me further. “I don’t want you to change your mind down the road.” I blurted it out without thinking. “I just ... I’m kind of attached to you.”

  His eyes lit up. “That could be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” he said. “The absolute most romantic thing.”

  I was taken aback. “It wasn’t meant to be romantic. It’s simply the way I feel.”

  “And that’s why it’s romantic.” He rolled, tugging me tighter against his chest, and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “This is new ground for both of us. It’s going to be okay. I wish you could just calm down a little bit. I guess you’re not there yet, huh?”

  “I don’t understand why you’re not happy with the status quo.” I couldn’t let it go. “I thought things were going well.”

  “Baby, they’re going very well. That’s why I want to take them to the next level.”

  I stared into his eyes. “Maybe we could compromise.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Maybe you could revisit the idea of proposing in a year or so.” I realized that was giving him tacit agreement for a timetable and backtracked quickly. “Or we could just talk about if we’re ready to take that step in a year,” I hurriedly amended.

  “Absolutely not.” He shook his head, firm, and my heart plummeted. “I’m proposing soon. I’ve even decided how I’m going to do it. I’m just waiting for you to settle.”

  “But ...”

  “No. You’re full of buts lately, and I hate it. It’s happening. Not only am I proposing, you’re saying yes.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know I’m going to say yes?”

  “Because I know.” He kissed the tip of my nose and grinned. “Deep down, you want to say yes. Your busy brain is holding you back right now. Your heart, which is bigger than your brain sometimes, is already on board.”

  I was fairly certain there was an insult buried in the heart comment somewhere, but I didn’t want to engage in an argument. It was too much on top of everything else. “I think you might be giving me an ulcer,” I complained, rubbing my stomach as I shifted gears. “I hope you’re happy.”

  “You make me happy,” he said. “As for the ulcer, we can share meds. I know you’re giving me one with all the trouble you find.”

  That definitely was an insult. “Hey, I get myself out of trouble, too.”

  “Sometimes,” he agreed, running his hand over my hair to smooth it. “Speaking of trouble, I’m guessing you’re chasing the story on the dead Santas for the foreseeable future.”

  I nodded, happy to talk about something other than an impending proposal. “You know it. I’m going to chase Beau Burton’s information first. I’m pretty sure Jake didn’t mean for that to slip.”

  “Well, I didn’t say anything last night — and I don’t want you to get too worked up — but I might know a guy who knows a guy.”

  “What does that mean? You might know a guy who knows a guy about wh
at?”

  “Burton. I vaguely remembered the story when you brought it up last night. It stuck in the back of my head. This morning, in the bright light of day while running from your drool, I remembered a bit more.”

  I poked his side and sneered. “I thought you loved me no matter what.”

  “I most definitely do. The drool is part of the package. I’m fine with it.”

  “Then what’s the deal with Burton?” This time I was practically salivating for a different reason.

  “I remember when that all went down, the story about him stealing from rich single women. A lot of those women were looking to hire professionals to track down information.”

  I rolled to a sitting position and stared down at him. “Did you investigate him?” Things were about to get so much easier if he said yes.

  “No.”

  Ugh. Thwarted again. “Do you know somebody who investigated him?”

  He hesitated and then held out his hands. “I know somebody who might be able to give us information. I need to make a few calls, maybe visit someone and feel things out. We’ll have to see how things go.”

  That was not the answer I wanted. “Or you could just tell me who it is you think has information and let me track him down.”

  “Yeah, I love you, but I’m certain that I don’t want you in charge of my professional relationship with other investigators ... or potential sources ... or just about anyone who could ever be of use down the line.”

  I gasped as he grabbed me around the waist and dragged me to the mattress. “I’m pretty sure there’s an insult buried in there.”

  “And I’m pretty sure that I’ll make it up to you.” He kissed my neck. “Give me a couple of hours. I’ll help if I can. I need a little room to maneuver.”

  “I thought you were doing okay with the maneuvering,” I teased.

  He tickled me again. “That’s a different maneuver. I’m more than willing to share it with you.”

  I HEADED DIRECTLY INTO THE OFFICE because I wanted a sit-down with Fish regarding Burton. I remembered him having ties to the man in question, but those ties remained fuzzy.