“No offense taken.” Dom lifts his own beer. “It’s all business.”
“Speaking of business.” I look to my little sister and Tilly. “In case you didn’t hear it the first time, I’m done.”
Tilly shakes her head. “Well, we’re not. We’re up next on stage.”
The current cheery Christmas carol comes to a crashing end, and before I know which way is up or down, I’m on stage singing “Jingle Bells” with Stephanie and Tilly. And every time we get to the chorus, these two salacious sweethearts start shaking their bells much to the rowdy crowd’s approval.
So on the next chorus, I do the only thing I can—I join in.
We shake, jiggle, and wiggle as the entire establishment breaks out into a riot of laughter, and just as we wrap it up, I spot a certain best-selling author turned homicide detective standing with a sober expression, arms crossed over his deliciously broad slightly judgmental and perhaps genuinely jealous chest.
We hop off stage, and I hop right into Shepherd Wexler’s arms.
“How’d you like the vocals, Honey Buns?”
“Were there vocals?” He almost smiles. “I’d best reevaluate at my place. Are you up for a repeat performance, Kitten?”
My cheeks heat every time he says that nickname, and this is no exception.
“I’ll bring the donuts,” I say.
“Good thinking. We’ll need the carbs to refuel.”
Sounds like a delicious time will be had by all.
I spot Carol examining us as we leave, and that cold look in her eyes says so much more than a single word she uttered.
Chapter 6
Last night, Shep and I engaged in a rather prolonged and heated make-out session in which I pointed out he didn’t have his tree yet and he brought up the fact that neither did I. And in the end, neither of us really cared. Did I mention there were heated kisses involved? His windows were dripping wet from all the steam we were letting off by the time I left.
But, in a holiday-inspired turn of events, Shep decided to cut out of work early this evening to take Pixie and me on an official holiday date at the Merry and Bright Tree Lot just down the street from the Mortimer Manor. The lot itself sits on an acreage sprawl. There are huge red and white tents to the right with trees of every shape and size tucked safely away from the snow. And to the left there’s a tree farm where you can go and hack down an evergreen of your very own. Since Shep and I sort of co-own this little sweet pink kitty, I thought it’d be fun to bring Pixie along for the ride. Plus, it gives her a chance to have a change of scenery. Staring at Stephanie’s trail of laundry snaking around the cabin can get old real fast.
I take a look around the tree lot on this fine and snowy evening, with its strings of twinkle lights, the fresh scent of miles and miles of evergreens, and it’s all achingly romantic. It’s the perfect first official holiday date. And it’s also inspired a couple of tagalongs to hitch for the ride.
Stephanie digs her fists in her hips as she takes a look around. “If this isn’t the cutest little tree lot just this side of the Mason-Dixon line, then I’m not Lola Binx.” She winks over at Pixie. “I’m not”—she whispers just out of earshot of Tilly—“but that doesn’t change my position on the place. Look at all the twinkle lights, the yummy hot cocoa stand, the wreath making station where I could potentially whip up a holiday wonder, or blunder—and oh, look! They’ve even got a holiday photo booth! That’s perfect. I can’t wait to get my picture taken with my two naughty Santas.”
“Lola,” I hiss. “Please tell me you’re not encouraging those two wise guys to lurk around Starry Falls.”
“You say lurk, I say hot date. I texted Enzo to meet up with me here, but he said he’s gotta bring Dom, too. They still haven’t decided which one gets me yet.” She shrugs. “They’re feuding families in-training. You have to start somewhere.”
Tilly leans in. “I hope they finish up their feud before the big day because I’m hoping to find your discard in my stocking come Christmas morning.”
I can’t help but frown over at the two of them. They’re adorably bunched in matching sparkly puffer jackets, wrapped tightly in chunky knit scarves, beanies, and mittens. It’s almost impossible to be mad at them, but I’ve managed to find a way.
Stephanie suggested we go shopping one day soon to load up on cute winter gear. Right now, we’re floating off of Tilly’s discards, and those include the discards of her daughter Jessie, as well.
“Pixie and I have a bright idea,” I say. “How about the two of you forget about those two Italian Stallions and find yourself some good old-fashioned Starry Falls stud muffins to pass the time? I’m sure there has to be an inebriated elf or two around here somewhere willing to help out a couple of perverts in a pinch.”
Shep slips his arms around my waist. “I’m with Pixie and Bowie. Stay away from the mobsters. Rumor has it, they make lousy boyfriends.”
Both Stephanie and I belt out a hearty amen.
She shrugs. “I might be a lot of things, but I’m no quitter.” She links arms with Tilly. “Come on, Til. Let’s hit that photo booth and figure out the lighting before the boys show up. I’d hate for them to think we’re high-maintenance.”
“You’re right. There are some secrets a woman should take to the grave.” She pauses my way. “That reminds me, my eyelash perm has finally worn off. You and I should really hit the salon again. We can have our brows threaded and get a little facial paralysis done this time, too. Oh,
