Mister Naughty: A Romantic Comedy (Small Town Secrets Book 6)

by Cat Johnson

“Oh. How’d that go?” he asked.

  “It ended with me having to drive downstate to visit my parents for Thanksgiving.”

  “Okay. When will you be gone?”

  “Tomorrow. Wednesday if we’re lucky enough to get a big snowstorm tonight. Any chance of that, Farmer Stone?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Oh well.”

  Stone usually laughed when my homebody nature had me wishing bad weather on the whole region just so I could avoid going places. He didn’t today.

  Maybe he was having just as bad of a day as I was.

  “How long are you planning on staying downstate?” he asked.

  “Just until Thursday. I figure I’ll eat early with my parents on Thanksgiving Day then head back to Agnes’s and get here in time for dessert. That’ll keep my mother happy and I still get to be with my friends. And with you . . .”

  “All right. I know you’re busy with the deadline and I’ve been busy with the tree lot but before you leave for home—"

  “This is home,” I interrupted him.

  “Okay.” There was a smile in his voice, finally. “Before you leave to see your parents, I wanted to show you something.”

  “Sure. What?” I asked.

  “It’s a surprise. Can you meet me today?”

  I hadn’t put on real clothes yet. Just yoga pants and a sweatshirt. And I’d only gotten half of my daily word goal written so far, but I still said, “Okay. What time and where?”

  “At the Christmas tree lot. About sunset?”

  “Which is like four-thirty since the damn clocks changed.” I scowled.

  “Yes, I know how you feel about switching the clocks back and forth because of daylight savings time. We all know. Believe me. So I’ll see you about four-thirty?”

  “I’ll be there.” I disconnected the call and glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, calculating.

  I had a few hours before I had to leave, which was perfect. That would give me time to finish my work and put on some clothes.

  Some warm clothes, because I’d learned the hard way that no matter how warm or sunny the days were in November, the moment the sun went down the temperature plummeted like thirty degrees.

  Two hours later, on my way to meet Stone, I pulled the car off Main Street and parked on the side street in front of the Post Office. Since I was already out and dressed, it was a good time to take care of one of the errands on my never-ending to-do list.

  I needed to buy some festive stamps. That way I could get my Christmas cards in the mail—when I got them written and addressed that is.

  Maybe I’d bring them with me to my parents’ house. I could work on them there.

  I pushed open the glass door of the building and was hit with a blast of hot air and the sounds of Christmas music. The local radio station had changed from all eighties hits all afternoon, to all Christmas, all the time, on November fifteenth, whether I was ready for it or not.

  Maybe hearing the Pentatonix singing about the season would help put me in the Christmas mood so I could get my cards written and gifts bought. I sure needed something to inspire me.

  “Uh, Ms. Lowinsky?”

  I glanced up at the sound of my legal name, when I was far more used to responding to my pen name these days, and saw Mayor Pickett standing by the mailboxes in the far corner of the post office lobby.

  “Mayor Pickett.”

  “Former mayor.” There was a small, sad looking smile as he corrected me, before he added, “But please, call me Fox.”

  “Um, okay.” I wasn’t sure I was ready to be on a first name basis with this man but I didn’t argue. I also didn’t call him Fox. I said nothing and waited to hear the reason for this conversation.

  “So, um, Deputy Bekker stopped by.”

  Oh, shit. I wished Carson hadn’t done that. I didn’t want a confrontation with this man.

  I opened my mouth, about to tell him I had asked Carson to not pursue the matter, when he held up one hand.

  “I know you didn’t press charges. He told me. And I wanted to thank you for that. And to explain.”

  Explain? This should be good. I could have said there was no explanation necessary. A nicer person, a better person, might have. I was not that person, I guess.

  “Okay.” I folded my arms across my chest and waited to hear his excuse.

  “It was my daughter who stole your signs.”

  “Your daughter?” I frowned.

  “Yeah. The only excuse I have is that she's been having a tough time lately. She’s a musician. The bar where she played closed down for good. Times are tough for small businesses right now so she’s having trouble finding another job. I know it doesn’t change what she did. But I wanted to tell you and to apologize.”

  I felt bad for the man. It took a lot for him to swallow his pride and tell me this. I felt bad for his daughter too. I could relate. Lord knew, after depending on unpredictable royalties for years, I worried about my own job security all the time.

  But besides the money, I could relate to how she must feel. After all, what does a musician do when they are no longer making music?

  I’d just gone through a similar crises because my job was so tied to my identity. To who I was.

  I could understand that, after losing her career, she couldn’t face losing anything else, such as her father being mayor of this town. Even if it was the smallest of small towns.

  “I appreciate you telling me. It actually helps knowing. And there’s no hard feelings.”

  “Thank you.” He nodded and turned, as if to leave, just as an idea struck me.

  “Um, Fox?”

  He turned back. “Yeah?”

  I remembered hearing Boone mention something at the football game the other night about the music for his wedding. I pawed through my memory and recalled him saying that the band they’d hired had another gig that day. They wouldn’t be able to come until later in the evening. So Boone was going to set up a sound system and stream music for the ceremony and for the beginning of the reception.

  “I think I have an idea that might help your daughter get some work.”

  His brows lifted. “Really?”

  I nodded, smiling and feeling good about this. “Really.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Stone

  “Why are you pushing so hard to get these lights finished today?” Cash asked. “We don’t open the Christmas tree lot until the day after Thanksgiving. That’s like a week from now.”

  “First of all, it’s not even close to one week away.” Balancing on top of a ladder while trying to string lights, I was in no mood to explain myself to Cash. “It’s gotta get done.”

  “Yes. Eventually. And we have days to do it. Plenty of time. It doesn’t have to get done today. The sun’s gonna be down soon.” Cash folded his arms apparently intent on arguing rather than helping.

  I didn’t need him to remind me how late it was getting. “I want the lights hung now. And if you’re not going to help, feel free to leave. I’ll handle it my own damn self.”

  Boone walked down the path and halted, watching the argument between us. A strange look came over his face before he turned to Cash. “Mom was just putting on a fresh pot of coffee when I left the house.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” Cash glanced at me. “I’d offer to get you a cup but, you know, you’re being a dick so . . .”

  I narrowed my eyes and watched him go.

  When Cash was out of sight, Boone moved closer.

  His gaze swept the scene, taking in the rows of evergreens lined up on either side, leading to the clearing where a horse-drawn sleigh—minus the horses—sat.

  We’d sunk poles into the ground to string lights on along the path. Not just for atmosphere but because Harper was right, it got dark real early this time of year. We wanted shoppers to be able to see if they happened to be here after sunset.

  Boone bent to grab a string of lights from the big plastic tote on the ground. “I’ll help you get the last
of these hung.”

  “Thanks. There’s not too much more. I just want to go as far as the clearing. And then maybe outline the sleigh with lights if there’s enough left.” I climbed down, about to move the ladder, but I stopped to check the time on my cell phone first.

  It was getting late. Harper was going to be here soon and I wasn’t done yet. I blew out a cuss.

  “Are you doing it here? Tonight?”

  I spun to face Boone. “Um, what?”

  “Are you rushing because you’re proposing to Harper here, tonight?” he asked again.

  I glanced around to make sure we were truly alone. “Yes. She’ll be here at four-thirty.”

  A wide grin spread across Boone’s face. “Then we’d better get moving.”

  Thanks to Boone, I got the lights up. And also strung on the sleigh. He even ran to the farm market and grabbed a wreath to hang on the front of it.

  So there I stood, staring at the site of where my life was going to change.

  Boone rubbed my shoulder. “Breathe.”

  I realized I might have forgotten to do that. I drew in and let out a quick short breath, realizing my chest felt tight as I did.

  “It’s gonna be okay, bro.”

  “I know.” I tried to swallow but didn’t have enough spit and almost choked.

  The crunch of tires on the gravel had me spinning toward the parking lot and feeling a lot less confident.

  Boone grinned. “You got this.”

  Did I, though?

  I didn’t voice that concern. Instead, I nodded, temporarily mute, which didn’t bode well for this going as planned. I was going to need to find my voice and fast.

  “Hey, this looks great,” Harper said, walking toward us.

  “Doesn’t it?” Boone agreed.

  “Yeah. It’s perfect.” She gazed up at the lights, just beginning to twinkle as the sun sunk behind the trees in a burst of color while darkness crept across the other half of the sky.

  “So I’m, uh, gonna go check on . . . something.” Boone, in a failed attempt at acting casual, backed slowly away.

  “Okay. See you.” Harper turned back toward me. “Thank you for making me come over here to see this. I needed a little dose of holiday spirit to carry me through until I can be back Thursday night.”

  “My pleasure.” I laced my fingers through hers and took a step toward the sleigh, the ring box in the pocket of my jeans feeling like it had grown ten sizes as I hoped she didn’t notice the bulge in my pants.

  “Oh my God, I forgot to tell you. On my way here I stopped at the post office and you’ll never guess who was inside. It was the mayor. Well, the former mayor. And you know what he told me? It was his daughter who stole my signs. And damn, that reminds me, I meant to talk to Boone about her possibly playing at the wedding.” She turned to look back toward the parking lot.

  Meanwhile, I was having trouble comprehending anything she was saying.

  “I’ll have to text him about it. But isn’t that nuts?” She finally stopped talking long enough to look at me. “Why aren’t you more shocked? Did Carson already tell you?”

  “Harper.”

  “Mmm-hmm?” She stared at me, waiting.

  “Get in.”

  She frowned, and then glanced at the sleigh, high enough she was going to have to climb up to get inside. She cringed and looked back to me. “There’s no spiders or anything inside, is there?”

  I laughed as she still remained completely oblivious to the fact that I was trying to make this moment perfect and she was fighting me at every turn.

  “There’s no spiders. I checked myself. Please just get inside.”

  “All right. Ooo, you need to take my picture for my Instagram.”

  Finally inside, she turned to look back at me, just as I realized I couldn’t get my fist out of my jeans while it was closed around the ring box.

  “You can use my phone to take the picture. Your phone doesn’t have as good a camera as mine—” Finally, she saw I wasn’t wrestling my phone out of my pocket.

  Her gaze dropped to the box in my hand as her mouth dropped open and then formed a perfect O.

  I opened the lid but was afraid to pull the ring out of the box. If I dropped it, I’d never find it in the dark. Instead, I thrust the ring, box and all, toward her.

  Still standing next to the sleigh, I said, “Harper, will you marry me?”

  “You . . . you want to marry me?” she asked, raising her gaze from the box to my face.

  What kind of a question was that? I frowned. “Of course, I wanna marry you.”

  That was kind of the point of the whole romantic setting and ring and proposal and all.

  She was taking so long to answer I started to get worried. Then I noticed the shine of tears in her eyes glistening beneath the white lights overhead.

  Finally, she nodded. Taking that as a yes, I scrambled into the sleigh and pulled her into my arms, drawing in my first breath in an hour that didn’t hurt my chest.

  Then I pulled back, just to make sure. “This is a yes, right?”

  She nodded again. Apparently my girl was speechless. That almost never happened.

  “I love you.” I cupped her warm face with my chilled fingers before I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers.

  She kissed me back with enough fervor I started to seriously consider if we could get away with doing it in the sleigh without being seen.

  Then I remembered Boone or Cash or any number of other people could walk up on us, and that we were lit up here like a Christmas tree from the lights I'd hung, and dropped the idea.

  I pulled back from her lips, though that was hard to do, and finally got brave enough to pull the ring out of the safety of the box. She held out her hand and I slipped it onto her finger.

  “How’s it fit?” I asked.

  She spun it with her other hand. “Maybe a tad big? But I think a ring guard will fix it. Aunt Agnes probably has one at the house.”

  Dammit. I’d had to guess at her ring size. Badly, apparently.

  “Should’a stolen one,” I mumbled under my breath, realizing Boone had been right.

  “What?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing. So, there’s one more surprise.”

  “More?” She looked confused and maybe even a little wary.

  “It’s good news. I promise. Well, I think it’s good news, anyway. You might not think so. But you can say no—”

  “Stone. Tell me.” She smiled, squeezing my hands.

  “Not yet. You have to wait. What time are you leaving for your parents’ tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know. Probably just after lunch. Why?”

  “Can you meet me earlier? Like nine?”

  “Okay.” She eyed me suspiciously. “You’re really not going to tell me what this is about?”

  “Nope.”

  “You want to come back to Agnes’s where I can maybe persuade you to tell me?” She ran one finger down my chest, landing just above my belt buckle.

  “You can sure try.” I couldn’t help my grin.

  I had no intention of telling her, but I figured we’d both enjoy her trying to get it out of me.

  As I helped her down from the sleigh, my phone vibrated in my pocket. When we got to the door of Harper’s car, and I had her safely seated inside, I slipped the cell out and saw a text from Boone.

  Boone: Well? I’m dying here! Did she say yes???

  I smiled and punched in a reply.

  Stone: Yes. Don’t expect me home tonight. And don’t tell anyone before I do!

  Boone’s reply was just a line of emojis that, combined as they were, were pretty suggestive as to what he assumed I’d be doing tonight with Harper.

  What could say? He was right.

  I put my phone away without replying and braced on the top of Harper’s door.

  “I’ll follow you home.” I moved to close her door before I thought of something and swung it wide again. Leaning low I said, “No texting Red while you’
re driving. You can tell her when we get there.”

  “All right.” She rolled her eyes at me, which only made me want to spank her pretty behind.

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe you. Put it in the glove box.”

  “But—”

  “Harper. I didn’t propose just to have you run off the road while telling all your friends.”

  “Fine.” She leaned over and put the cell in the glove compartment, slamming it closed hard before she straightened.

  I leaned down and kissed her pouty lips. “Thank you.”

  She shot me a glare that only made me laugh. But this little confrontation made me realize one thing. Any naughty plans were probably going to have to wait. Once Agnes heard, and then Red and Bethany, I’d be lucky if there wasn’t a full-blown party within the hour.

  Then I’d have to call and tell my family before they found out third hand.

  It was a lot to absorb, but as I looked down at Harper I knew, it was all worth it.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Harper

  “Harper.”

  The sound of my name cut through the dense fog in my brain.

  “Baby. Wake up.” He shook me this time too, which made it harder to ignore him.

  Ugh. Why was Stone waking me up so early?

  We hadn’t gotten to bed until midnight when all the guests at our impromptu engagement party left. And we didn’t get to sleep until close to an hour after that, after a private celebration of our own.

  Yet here he was, whispering in my ear—and not for anything good either.

  “Come on, baby. You gotta wake up and get dressed.”

  Waking up was one thing. But getting dressed too? That was a lot to ask of a person.

  I groaned. “Why? It’s too early.”

  He chuckled. “It’s not. I already went to the farm, knocked off half of my chores, and picked up coffee and a honey bun for you.”

  I cracked open one eye to see Stone above me, back lit by the vicious glare of morning streaming through the window behind my bed. “You went to Bethany’s?”

  “I did. But you have to at least sit up before you’re allowed to have any of it.”

  “Fine.” I scowled. “Where are we going again at the crack of dawn and why?”