Wicked Fun: An Ivy Morgan Mystery Books 7-9

by Lily Harper Hart

  Margaret’s eyes flashed as she glanced toward the cat. He sat on the stool next to Max, as if surveying his kingdom. He paid little heed to the newcomers. “I didn’t realize you had a cat. Jack has never been a cat person.”

  “I like him fine,” Jack said, moving behind the counter so he could stand next to Ivy. “He’s spoiled rotten and tries to smother me in my sleep if he feels he’s not getting enough attention, but I know how he feels when it comes to spending time with Ivy so we peacefully coexist. Isn’t that right?” Jack cast a pointed look in the cat’s direction, one that Nicodemus ignored.

  “Ivy found him in a garbage dumpster a few years ago,” Max explained. “Someone abandoned him. He was a kitten and almost died. She bottle-fed him herself. He absolutely adores her and tolerates the rest of the world.”

  “That shows you have a good heart,” Margaret noted. “You took care of an animal that needed help. Good for you.”

  “I think it was good for both of us,” Ivy said, transferring the potatoes into a bowl. “I love him very much.”

  “That’s nice.”

  Max moved into the living room to entertain Denise and Margaret while Jack helped Ivy in the kitchen. Margaret sat on the couch, letting the fire warm her aching bones, and watched as Jack whispered something in Ivy’s ear. She had no idea what it was, but the duo seemed ridiculously happy as they worked in tandem.

  Max sat in the chair at the edge of the room and watched Margaret for signs she was melting down. Ivy’s house was comfortable, and Max didn’t believe that simply because he’d grown up in the cottage. Ivy changed huge portions of the cottage when she bought it and yet it still felt like home to him.

  “What do you think?” Max asked, purposely keeping his voice low so Ivy and Jack remained oblivious in the next room.

  Margaret shifted in her seat and stared at Max, seemingly conflicted. “I think that they seem very comfortable around one another.”

  “They’re definitely comfortable,” Max agreed. “They love each other.”

  “Yes, everyone keeps throwing around that word. Love.”

  “And you seem uncomfortable with it,” Max said, resting his ankle on his knee as he reclined in the chair. “Why is that?”

  Margaret opened her mouth to respond and then merely shook her head. “I guess it’s because I’ve never seen Jack in love with someone before. He’s dated, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never seen him act this way with a woman … until now.”

  Max pursed his lips as he glanced at the kitchen. Jack had himself wrapped around Ivy from behind as she doled vegetables out onto a serving platter. She giggled as he tickled her, tilting her head so Jack had easier access to her ear and neck. He had no doubt that whatever Jack whispered was absolutely filthy. Given the worry Ivy was dealing with, Max couldn’t muster the energy to care … or tease them about their behavior.

  “Then even you should realize how special this is,” Max said after a beat. “My sister has never been in love either. I wasn’t sure if Jack was going to be good for her when he first showed up on the scene. I thought maybe they would have a quick fling and be done with it.”

  “And now?”

  “And now I know Jack is going to be a member of my family forever,” Max replied, not missing a beat. “They’re going to get married and spend their lives together.”

  “Married?” Margaret’s face turned a mottled shade of red. “They haven’t been dating nearly long enough to get married.”

  “My mother always says that when you find the right person you know early on. Ivy and Jack had a few bumps in the road when they first met. They fought like you wouldn’t believe. Heck, they still fight when one of them gets their hackles up. That’s simply how they communicate.”

  “If they fight all of the time … .”

  “Fighting isn’t a sign that there’s anything wrong,” Max offered. “It’s a sign that something is not going right. I’m not talking about physical fights, mind you, because they never lay their hands on one another in anger. Emotional fights are important, though. They’re proof that you care about someone enough to risk unease in the relationship to get your point across.”

  “And you think Ivy and Jack care about each other that much?”

  “I know they do,” Max replied. “Mrs. Harker, I don’t pretend to know what’s going on here, but you need to wrap your head around this relationship because it’s not going anywhere. I’m predispositioned not to like you because you’ve made my sister very uncomfortable. I have to ask why you would possibly want to cause a woman you barely know so much pain.”

  Margaret balked. “I don’t want to hurt her. She seems like a nice girl.”

  “But you don’t think she’s good enough for your son,” Max surmised. “Let me tell you something, Mrs. Harker, my sister is the best person I’ve ever met. There were times I didn’t think your son was good enough for her. He hurt her once … and I’m not going to lie, I considered killing him because of it … but he made amends. They’ve settled in. They’re happy.”

  “It’s not that I don’t think your sister is good enough for my son,” Margaret clarified. “It’s that this life isn’t what I envisioned for Jack. He deserves so much more.”

  “More than being loved unconditionally by a good woman? More than being happy? More than being content?”

  “I … this isn’t the life he was meant to lead.” Margaret appeared lost as she glanced into the kitchen, her eyes widening when Jack broke out into hokey country music lyrics as he helped Ivy put the finishing touches on dinner. “I never imagined him doing anything like that.”

  “Then you didn’t imagine a good enough life for him,” Max said. “You need to stop fighting this and embrace it. You’re doing nothing but hurting your son and my sister. Neither one of them deserves it. They’ve been through enough pain and turmoil to last two lifetimes. Give them some peace. Let them enjoy this. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

  Margaret rubbed her cheek. “I’ll give it some thought.”

  “You do that.” Max pushed himself to his feet and fixed Ivy with a look only a sister could love. “Where’s my food, woman? I’m starving.”

  Ivy made a disgusted face. “Dinner is served, putz. Are you happy?”

  “We’ll see how that tiny bird tastes,” Max replied, swaggering toward the table. “If it’s good, I’m definitely going to be a happy man. If it’s not, well, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Ivy rolled her eyes. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  Twelve

  “Does it taste okay?”

  Ivy was a mess of nerves as she watched Jack taste his Cornish hen.

  “It’s wonderful, honey,” Jack said, and he meant every word. He was always astounded by her cooking ability. Even when she made vegetarian offerings he almost always enjoyed them. “It’s very good.”

  “It’s delicious,” Max said, ripping off a tiny drumstick and biting into it. “I think you should cook meat for me more often.”

  Ivy lifted an eyebrow and merely shook her head. She didn’t miss the fact that Margaret and Denise grinned at Max – they clearly liked him and seemed to enjoy his energy. On the flip side, they almost never smiled at Ivy unless it was forced.

  “Everything is wonderful,” Margaret said, tasting her mashed potatoes. “You made these from scratch.”

  Ivy was confused. “Is there another way to make them?”

  “Mom always made the instant kind in the box,” Jack supplied, grinning. “They were good, too. Nothing beats the real thing, though.” He ran his hand over the back of Ivy’s head and saw she had loaded her plate up with vegetable offerings … and then proceeded not to touch it. “Eat, honey. You’re going to need your strength.”

  “Oh, um, right.” Ivy mixed her corn and potatoes together before taking a bite, her stomach clenching because everyone was so quiet. She was desperate to break the silence. “So, did you find out anything on your investigation today?”

>   Jack shrugged. “We found out the McDonald farm was in financial trouble and that Gilly and Wayne are actually better off now that Ron is dead. We’re going to question them tomorrow. Ron had a balloon payment due at the bank and told them he had the money, but his accounts don’t seem to reflect that.”

  “Maybe he had accounts at more than one bank,” Ivy suggested.

  “You’re so smart,” Jack teased, tapping her nose. “You should be a police investigator.”

  “Ha, ha.” Even though she was edgy, Ivy couldn’t help but preen under the compliment. “So what is your next step?”

  “Calling every bank in the area and finding out where Ron did business.”

  “I know he had at least one account at the Shadow Lake Credit Union out on the highway,” Max offered. “I have an account there and I saw him when I was doing payroll a couple of times.”

  “That’s a good tip.” Jack bobbed his head in appreciation. “Thanks.”

  “So, wait, you own a business, too?” Denise asked, focusing all of her attention on Max. “Do you own a nursery like your sister?”

  “No. I was never much into plants, flowers, and trees.” Max mixed his mashed potatoes and corn together, mimicking Ivy’s earlier action and making Jack smile. They had a lot of the same mannerisms and Jack couldn’t help but find it endearing. “I own a lumberyard out on the highway. I’ve had it about eight years now. I like working outdoors, but not with plants. That’s Ivy’s forte.”

  “Your parents must be proud,” Margaret noted. “To have two children owning businesses in a small area like this is quite an accomplishment.”

  Ivy was surprised by the compliment. It almost sounded sincere. “I think they’re proud,” she said after a beat. “They just want us to be happy, though, so that’s the most important thing.”

  “And are you?” Margaret prodded. “Happy, I mean.”

  “I’m very happy,” Ivy said, casting a fond look in Jack’s direction and causing him to squeeze her knee under the table. “I like what I do for a living and even get to pretend to be an investigator occasionally.”

  “Not anytime soon,” Jack chided, wagging a finger. “After the last time, when I had to chase you through the woods, I need a break from the action.”

  “Yes, I heard about that,” Margaret intoned.

  Jack arched an eyebrow. “You heard about that? How?”

  “Well, certainly not from you,” Margaret replied. “Ava told us when we stopped at the department. She was going on and on about other things and let it slip.”

  “Ava isn’t exactly what I would call a solid information source,” Jack admonished. “As for me not telling you, well, it was part of my job and I didn’t want you to worry. I tend to keep a lot of my cases to myself.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed.” Margaret’s tone was dry as her thoughtful eyes probed Ivy. “How did you two meet? I’m not sure I ever heard the story, although Jack has told me quite a few about you. I just didn’t realize all of those stories were about you until he clarified that for me. I apologize for that, by the way.”

  Ivy pursed her lips. “It’s okay,” she said. “As for how we met, well, I walked out to get my mail one day in the spring and found a dead body in the ditch. I called Brian to tell him and that happened to be Jack’s first day on the job. He came out and … I guess we kind of started from there.”

  “Did you kill the guy in the ditch?” Denise asked.

  Jack scowled. “It was a woman, and no she didn’t. Don’t be a pain, Denise.”

  Denise balked. “It was an honest question. How am I supposed to know?”

  Jack rolled his eyes as he buttered a slice of bread. Ivy went all out, even baking from scratch, and he had every intention of stuffing himself silly. “It’s a long story, but suffice it to say a guy with ties to the community was killing women to cover up some other stuff. Ivy was integral in the investigation because she knew another guy and helped lead us in the right direction.”

  “And almost got killed because a crazy dude chased her in the woods,” Max groused, shaking his head. “You know, come to think of it, you’ve been chased through the woods a lot since hooking up with Jack. I think that’s a tradition you guys should let fall by the wayside.”

  “I agree,” Jack said. “One case of Poison Ivy is enough for me.”

  Max snorted at the visual. “Yeah, Ivy told me about that. She said she had to warn you not to stick your hands in your pants. That must’ve been quite the romantic interlude.”

  “That was long before we started dating,” Ivy countered. “We barely tolerated each other at that point.”

  “That’s not the way I remember it,” Jack said, reaching for his glass of wine. “I remember having to follow you back here and let you treat my general itchiness, and then I remember a certain kiss.”

  Ivy’s cheeks colored as Max’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.

  “You little tart,” Max clucked, shaking his head. “I didn’t know that part of the story.”

  “That’s because we kissed and agreed it wasn’t a good idea,” Ivy supplied. “It’s not a big deal. Let it go.”

  “Wow. It sounds as if you guys had chemistry right from the beginning,” Denise said, her eyes busy as they bounced from face to face. “How long was it before you slept together?”

  Jack’s smile tipped upside down as he scorched his sister with a dark look. “That’s none of your business.”

  Denise held her hands up in a placating manner. “I was just asking.”

  “I know what you were doing and I’m not going to stand for it,” Jack barked, annoyed.

  Sensing the night was about to spin out of control, Ivy gripped Jack’s knee to get his attention, offering him a furtive head shake as she tried to regain a sense of calm and civility. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” Jack argued. “I’m not going to sit here and let my sister do … well, what she does. I warned you two that I wasn’t going to put up with any crap before we even came here for dinner. Did you think I was messing around?”

  Ivy and Max traded weighted looks but otherwise remained silent as Jack’s chest heaved and he glared at his mother and sister.

  “We’re being good,” Margaret promised, flicking her eyes to Denise, something unsaid passing between them. “I happen to think this is a marvelous meal and I’m really enjoying the company. There’s no reason to freak out, Jack.”

  “There’s really not,” Ivy murmured, her eyes pleading when they latched onto Jack’s stony glare. “It’s okay.”

  Jack stared into the fathomless depths of her blue eyes a moment, conflicted. She desperately wanted this to work and he knew rushing to her defense every five seconds would make that impossible. Instead of pushing the issue, he sucked in a calming breath. “Let’s go back to talking about how we met,” he suggested. “I always like remembering that time in my life. Things happened quickly, and I enjoyed it.”

  “That sounds like a good idea to me.” Ivy flashed a watery smile.

  “Yes, as long as we don’t talk about the time Ivy was shot and you left her in the hospital and drank yourself into a stupor because you were battling old demons, I’m fine,” Max added. It took him a moment to realize four sets of eyes stared at him. Jack and Ivy’s were filled with murderous intent while Denise and Margaret were flabbergasted. Max couldn’t help but squirm in his chair. “What did I say?”

  “WELL, THAT was … .” Ivy wasn’t sure how to describe the evening’s events so she merely stared at the fire as Jack spread out a blanket on the floor and tugged her toward him. Margaret and Denise managed to make it through dinner – and one cup of coffee after – before things fell completely apart and they excused themselves for the night. Ivy was still trying to come to grips with everything that happened.

  “Awful,” Jack finished, grabbing a second blanket from the couch and wrapping it around them as they got comfortable.

  Ivy tilted her head to the side as she listened to Jack’s heart
beat, resting her cheek on his chest and relishing the way he rubbed her back and pulled her closer. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have invited Max. I had no idea he would send the conversation in the direction he did.”

  “Max wasn’t the problem.”

  Ivy waited, dubious.

  “Okay, Max wasn’t the only problem,” Jack conceded, absentmindedly smoothing Ivy’s hair as he tucked the blanket beneath her hip. He wanted to make sure she was warm after the chilly dinner. “Max was being Max, though. We’re used to him. Nothing he did was out of malice.”

  “Yeah, but he tossed the entire night into a dramatic lava vent.”

  Jack arched an eyebrow, amused. “A dramatic lava vent?”

  “That’s what it felt like,” Ivy said. “He knew he made a mistake, but it was too late to take it back. Now your mother thinks you’ve been hiding things from her and I have a good idea she believes I’m using the fact that I was shot to keep you close. She probably thinks I’m guilting you into staying.”

  “I don’t care what she thinks.”

  Ivy wasn’t convinced that was true. “She’s your mother.”

  “And I don’t care what she thinks,” Jack repeated. “Ivy, my mother isn’t the easiest person to deal with under the best of circumstances. When I was a kid, she would make a list of other kids who I wasn’t allowed to hang out with. It had nothing to do with the kids and everything to do with parents she didn’t like.”

  “Well, that sounds annoying but not altogether unbearable,” Ivy said. “My parents wouldn’t let me hang out with certain people either.”

  “Who?”

  “Um, well, there was Norm Danson. He always had pot and they were convinced I was going to get stoned and walk into a lake or something. I was forbidden from going anywhere with him and my father sniffed me for two straight months whenever I came home.”