Mayhem & Mistletoe

  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.

  Created with Vellum

  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

  Prologue

  Eleven 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. “You only hang around with Derrick and Jake. One is your cousin and the other I’m convinced is a dirty pervert who I should probably shoot and dump in the woods.”

  I didn’t bother to hide my eye roll. “I thought you liked Jake.”

  “He’s fine for a dirty pervert.”

  My lips inadvertently quirked. “Why is Jake a pervert but Derrick’s girlfriends are ‘pretty little things with smiles that bring joy to the world?” I used the appropriate air quotes as I sneered.

  Grandpa’s grin was pronounced. “I said that once, like a year ago, and your bottom is still chafed over it. I think that says a little something about you.”

  “No, I think it says something about you.” I was wound up now and there was no backing down. “I don’t like that Derrick’s girlfriends — who are all airheads and cheerleaders, by the way — get a free pass even though they’re only around a month before he dumps them, while Jake has been around for almost two years and you treat him like dirt.”

  “I don’t treat Jake like dirt.” Grandpa shoved
yet another huge spoonful of onion chili in his mouth and then proceeded to talk while chewing. “I think he’s a fine boy, who might or might not be gay.”

  “He’s not gay. Trust me.”

  “Ha!” Grandpa poked his finger so close to my face he almost caught my nostril. “That’s why I don’t like him. He’s a dirty pervert.”

  “Oh, geez.” I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. “I think you just like being sexist. You believe Derrick can do no wrong because he’s the first-born boy.” Even though I had a close relationship with my grandfather, a colorful and loud relationship, he made it no secret that Derrick was his pride and joy. “For some reason, Derrick gets all the accolades — and I’m pretty sure it’s because he has a penis.”

  I said the last word a bit louder than I meant to and Grandpa’s eyes went wide when several heads at the surrounding tables swiveled in our direction. He flashed a charming smile, the one that convinced people to keep coming to his restaurant even though he was often an opinionated ass, and then turned to me with a quelling look. “You can’t say that word in a restaurant,” he hissed.

  I was amused despite myself. “What word?”

  “You know what word.”

  “Penis?”

  He looked around again, furtive. “Shut your mouth.”

  “Why can’t I say penis?” I asked a little louder this time.

  “I will make sure the only thing you’re allowed to eat here is liver and onions if you’re not careful,” he warned, his eyes firing. “No more tomato macaroni soup ... or that spaghetti sauce you love so much. I can guarantee you’ll never see a slice of prime rib again.”

  He would be more than happy to make me suffer if he thought he could derive some amusement from it. “I’m sorry.” I held up my hands, hoping he believed my apology — even though I was anything but sincere. “I won’t say it again.”

  “That’s better.” He went back to his lunch. “Why are you hiding out here? This is your favorite time of year. The morels are out. You, Jake and Derrick usually spend hours in the woods after work hunting them.”

  It was morel season, and as far as I was concerned, the only reason to venture into the woods at all was for the seasonal mushrooms. But even morel hunting couldn’t derail the Avery Shaw Thought Train. “I’m ... debating the meaning of life.”

  “Good.” He shook his head. “I love it when you’re philosophical. What has you worked up today?”

  I considered lying. I could tell him practically anything and he would go off on a tangent. In truth, I was struggling. I had very few other people I could talk to about my feelings. Sure, Derrick and I were tight, but my cousin was the gossipy sort, and a friend of Jake’s.

  “Jake’s joining the army.” I almost choked getting the words out. “He leaves at the end of the summer.”

  Grandpa’s expression was difficult to read. “I heard.”

  “His father thinks it’s a good idea.”

  “I heard that, too.”

  Jake’s father was the county sheriff, and while he’d always been good to me, I was starting to hate him because I was convinced he was determined to ruin my life. “I thought Jake would go to college like me.”

  Grandpa nodded in understanding. “You thought things would continue the way they have been for the past two years.”

  “I don’t know if I would put it exactly like that,” I hedged. “I thought we would have more options. He’s going to have to serve overseas most likely, maybe even in war zones.”

  Sympathy tinged Grandpa’s eyes. “You’re afraid for him.”

  That was true, but it was more than that. “I guess it’s more that I’m afraid for us.” I shifted my eyes to the window so I wouldn’t have to meet his steady gaze. “I never thought we would go to the same school. I mean, I guess I thought it was a possibility, but not likely.

  “His father went to Michigan State University,” I continued. “East Lansing isn’t that far from Mount Pleasant. I thought we would still be able to see each other on weekends, and maybe even in the middle of the week here and there depending on class schedules.”

  “And instead he enlisted,” Grandpa mused. “He’ll do his basic training in another state.”

  “And then he’ll likely be shipped overseas,” I said, my stomach twisting at the notion.

  “Look, you know I have an opinion on everything, including this. But you won’t like what I have to say.”

  I already knew that. “Tell me anyway.” I needed to hear it. The longer I internalized my fears and feelings, the more annoyed I became with life in general.

  “The truth is, kid, you’re too young to be this serious about a boy.”

  The same old trope. It frustrated me to no end to hear it again. “Would you say the same thing to Derrick if he had had a girlfriend for two years?”

  He bobbed his head. “You’re both too young to be thinking about settling down for the long haul.”

  “I didn’t say anything about settling down.”

  “No?” He arched an eyebrow. “What do you think happens after a certain point when you’ve been dating someone for more than a year or so?”

  “I ... don’t ... know.”

  “Marriage. That’s what happens.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Nobody’s talking about marriage. Don’t be an idiot.”

  His smirk was back. “Kid, marriage is a natural part of life. When I was younger, it made sense to get married right out of high school. We didn’t have as many opportunities. You, however, can do whatever you want.”

  “Even though I don’t have a penis?” I grumbled. I wanted to upset him as much as he’d upset me.

  “It has nothing to do with that.” Grandpa was calm. “Marriage is what you do when you don’t want to do anything else.”

  “Oh, that’s a sweet sentiment,” I drawled. “You should have that put on a Hallmark card.”

  He ignored the sarcasm. “You have a very specific life you want to lead. You’re going to school to be a journalist. You want to be one of those ball-busting reporters I see on the news. You want to go places, set your own rules. You can’t do that if you have a husband.”

  He wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t already figured out. “I’m not talking about getting married. That’s not on anybody’s mind.”

  “Are you sure it’s not on Jake’s mind?”

  The question caught me off guard. “Of course I’m sure.” The answer was automatic. “He’s joining the army. The last thing on his mind is marriage.”

  “He’s going to be away from everything he knows. You’re the strongest anchor he has to his life here,” Grandpa pointed out. “You’re the most important thing to him. Right now, he’s the most important thing to you. Why do you think you’re sitting in here with me instead of hanging out with him?”

  “Probably because I have PMS and it’s rendered me temporarily insane.”

  Rather than being grossed out, which was what I intended, he chuckled. “I can always tell when you’re on the defensive, kid. You spit crudities thinking they’ll freak me out. I’m on to you. You can’t distract me when I know I’m right.”

  “You always think you’re right.”

  “That’s because I always am right.”

  “Um ... no.”

  “Name one time I was ever wrong.”

  “You said the internet was a fad that wouldn’t last.”

  “I haven’t been proven wrong on that.” He wagged a finger. “It hasn’t been around all that long. Just you wait.”

  “Whatever.” I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him about his prognostications. “Nobody is interested in marriage. I’m not. I guarantee Jake’s not. That’s not what this is about.”

  “I hope you’re right.” He shot me a rueful grin. “You’ve got big things ahead of you, kid. I know you love Jake — and it totally freaks me out because I’ve seen the way he looks at you — but you’re not ready for marriage.

  “Marriage is difficult,” he c
ontinued, his expression darkening. “You must be willing to commit yourself full time to another person. All your wants and desires are subjugated because you have to take someone else’s wants and desires into consideration. And if you add kids into the mix? Honey, look out. Kids are the absolute worst.”

  “Yeah, you don’t have to worry about that. I hate kids more than you do.”

  “Nobody hates kids more than me.”

  “You had five of them.”

  “That’s your grandmother’s fault. She wanted them, and, as I believe I’ve told you, she can’t keep her hands off me when she’s in the mood.”

  Now I felt sick to my stomach for a different reason. “Okay, this conversation has taken a weird turn. You don’t have to worry about me. Jake and I are not talking about marriage.”

  “Keep it that way.” He was somber. “You can rule the world, just like me, if you keep your head in the game, Avery. I’m kind of curious where you’ll be in ten years. I predict you’ll be making entire towns cry with your antics. You can’t do that if you force yourself to settle before you’re ready.”

  He made sense, which terrified me in a different way. “Don’t worry about me.” I offered him a forced smile. “I have no intention of getting married anytime soon. In fact, it’s likely I’ll never get married. I mean ... who would put up with me?”

  His expression softened. “That right there is something to consider. Still, you’ve got a way about you, kid. I know, because you inherited it from me. Sooner or later, there’ll be some idiot willing to take you on. You have to make sure he’s the right idiot.”