Mayhem & Mistletoe
An Avery Shaw Mystery Book Seventeen
Amanda M. Lee
HarperHart Publications
Copyright © 2020 by Amanda M. Lee
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Prologue
1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six
7. Seven
8. Eight
9. Nine
10. Ten
11. Eleven
12. Twelve
13. Thirteen
14. Fourteen
15. Fifteen
16. Sixteen
17. Seventeen
18. Eighteen
19. Nineteen
20. Twenty
21. Twenty-One
22. Twenty-Two
23. Twenty-Three
24. Twenty-Four
25. Twenty-Five
26. Twenty-Six
27. Twenty-Seven
28. Twenty-Eight
29. Twenty-Nine
Mailing List
About the Author
Books by Amanda M. Lee
Books by Lily Harper Hart
PrologueEleven years ago
“What are you doing?”
My grandfather, who fancied himself the wisest man in the world even though he thought donning black socks pulled up nearly to his knees with red shorts was acceptable, plopped down in the family booth and eyed me suspiciously.
I returned the look. “What are you doing?”
He gestured toward his bowl, filled with a bed of onions topped with chili. It was one of his favorite meals. “I’m having lunch.”
I wrinkled my nose, disgusted. “I don’t understand how you can consider that lunch. That’s basically heartburn on a plate.”
“Maybe I like heartburn.” He brandished his spoon, as if daring me to comment further. “Or maybe I’m simply so awesome that heartburn is afraid to come after me.”
We both knew that was a lie. The man was a gastrointestinal freak who didn’t mind burping and farting in the middle of a crowd. I’d long since gotten over being embarrassed by his antics. I’d started using them to my advantage when girls I couldn’t stand decided to invade my space.
I, Avery Shaw, was a plotter extraordinaire, and I wasn’t afraid to use my family to further whatever agenda I was pursuing. “Please. We both know you’ll be in the bathroom downing antacid tables in thirty minutes. I’m just wondering why you put yourself through this torture when you could enjoy a nice piece of fruit or something instead.”
Grandpa spooned his onion-and-chili concoction into his mouth and silently stared.
“Is this because you like to be difficult?” I really was curious. “I’ve patterned much of my life after you because you’re a master at ticking people off. I hope my powers surpass yours one day. Is this one of your ... things?”
He methodically chewed his onions, causing me to grimace, and then swallowed. “You could do a lot worse than patterning your behavior after me,” he said finally. “There’s a reason I’m considered king of the world.”
He seemed awfully serious for a man with chili on both cheeks, but I snorted all the same. “Who said you’re king of the world?”
“Anybody who has ever met me.”
“Who really?”
He leaned back in his seat and shot me a smug smile. “I believe your grandmother lodged her opinion on that matter last night.”
It took me a moment to realize what he meant, then I was officially grossed out. “That is the sickest thing I’ve ever heard.” I jabbed a finger in his direction. “I mean ... absolutely sick.”
“And why is that?” He was clearly enjoying torturing me. “It’s healthy, and I know your grandmother agrees, because she pretty much applauded when I was done.”
I held his gaze, but only because I recognized what he was attempting to do. My grandfather gained power from freaking out others, whether they be customers or family members. He’d garnered a reputation as the most hilarious man in our small town, and people flocked to the family restaurant to see what sort of wacky thing he would do next. I appreciated the effort he put into the role, but I refused to be one of his victims.
“Why are you the only one who brags about your sexual prowess?” I asked, switching gears. I knew how to agitate him. That was my superpower. “I’ve never heard Grandma say anything about it.”
Grandpa’s expression never changed. “Your grandmother is a private woman. She only tells me when she’s happy with my performance. She would be mortified if others found out. Jealous, too. I don’t know if you realize this, but I’m considered quite the catch around these parts.”
I had to swallow a laugh. As I did, I brushed my own cheek to prod him to wipe the chili off his face. He ignored the gesture. “Or maybe she just tells you what you want to hear.”
He pinned me with a challenging look. “We could head over to the house and ask her.”
I would rather die than partake in that conversation. He was testing me. I couldn’t let him win. There was nothing I hated more than losing, and if he was the victor of this conversation I would hear him crow for weeks. “If that’s what you want. But be forewarned, if we head over there I’m going to tell her you were boasting about satisfying her.”
Grandpa’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
He shoveled in another forkful of onion chili and studied me as he chewed. He spoke after swallowing, a relief because he wasn’t afraid to talk with his mouth full. “Fine. We don’t have to confirm things with your grandmother. I don’t need outside validation. I know I’m a stallion.”
If I’d been eating, this is the point in the conversation where I would’ve choked … or maybe even thrown up. “You’re a gross dude.”
“I’m your role model.” He sipped his soda and went back to focusing on his meal. “Why are you in here? It’s a nice spring day. You should be out playing with your little friends.”
Now it was my turn to glare. “I don’t play.”
“Really? Last time I checked, you were incapable of losing. If you don’t play, how do you win?”
He had me there. “Fine. I don’t play the way you’re insinuating.”
“You also don’t have any friends,” Grandpa noted, smirking when my glare deepened.
