I can’t help but laugh. “Well, your secret is safe with us.”
Noah nods. “Great party, Mom. The Christmas Angels really pulled off an extravaganza.”
“It’s a Marshmallow World” begins to play overhead, and I can’t help but rock to the cheery music. It happens to be one of my favorite Christmas songs. And it always has the ability to put me in a good mood—despite the presence of the queen of mean.
Mrs. Claus, aka Gloria, flashes a toothy smile to Noah. “Your mama was supposed to be an elf tonight, but she decided she’d rather team up with her ex and dole out liquor at the bar.”
Noah’s father is a part-time bartender. He’s here working the bar, along with my mother, Miranda Lemon, the woman he happens to be taking advantage of at the moment. Wiley Fox, yes, his aptly given moniker, is notorious for robbing widows blind. My mother is his next victim, but she’s too dazzled by his dimples to see straight. I can’t blame her all that much. Noah is basically a knockoff of his father, and those Fox men have the ability to make a heart or two go pitter-patter.
“Not that I blame her.” Gloria winks to Suze. “That Wiley Fox is a looker!” She indulges in another bosom jiggling laugh just as a pretty caramel-haired girl about my age, in her late twenties, steps up.
She clears her throat as she enters our circle. “Excuse me, Gloria, but those friends of mine I wanted you to meet are standing by the mystery auc—” Her lips round out as she looks to Noah and Everett.
It’s not an uncommon occurrence for either of these men to stop an entire herd of women in their tracks, or midsentence. I’ve witnessed Everett cause a car wreck or two from women craning their heads just to get a better look at him. And Noah has caused more than his fair share of kerfuffles as well.
“Well hello, Honey Hollow.” The young girl’s eyes spin wildly like a slot machine in Vegas once it greedily eats your money. Only, instead of dollar signs spinning in her eyes, I see Noah and Everett’s reflection in them.
“Come now,” Gloria snaps. “Keep it in your pants, honey. Don’t you know by now I get first dibs around here?” she teases as they head off toward the auction area where that sheet of black velvet lies over something that appears to be at least six feet tall.
“Gloria Abner is one of my dearest friends,” Suze snips my way. “I haven’t told anyone at the Christmas Angels about your floozy ways—partly because I don’t want to be kicked out of the league for being associated with someone with such loose morals. And I’m embarrassed that my own son has found himself tangled in this situation to begin with. Lottie, I’d appreciate it if you kept your pie hole shut for the remainder of the evening should you come across her again.”
I gasp so hard at the audacity, I nearly inhale my earring.
“Mother,” Noah snaps as he pulls her to the side.
“Don’t let her get to you,” Everett says as he wisely navigates the two of us straight to the kitchen, where we find Carlotta lighting an entire row of jarred candles across the island.
But I’m not focused on that odd sight right now. All I see is red.
“I can’t believe that woman,” I rant as Everett wraps his arms around me. “Did you hear the way she just outright insulted me? I mean, not that she was technically wrong, but it’s all about delivery, and Suze Fox doesn’t have one nice bone in her body.” Another groan works its way up my throat. “And exactly how alarmed should I be that her DNA might be mingling with mine in my belly? Everett, what are we going to do if this baby is Noah’s? Is a newborn a good candidate for psychological counseling? Because if Noah’s genetic material is involved, this kid is going to need it.”
Noah steps in next to Everett, and I wince.
“Sorry you had to hear that, Noah.”
He holds up a hand. “Don’t be. I’m the one that should be apologizing.”
Everett’s chest expands. “It’s okay, Lemon. There’s still a fifty percent chance you have nothing to worry about.”
Carlotta cackles like a madwoman. “All right, you three, step on over and inspect the latest candle sensation for all of your kinky needs.” She holds her hands out at the row of candles flickering in turn. And I can’t help but note an odd sight behind her.
“Carlotta? Why is there a grocery cart full of candles in the kitchen?”
“How else am I supposed to get these into the ballroom? It’s my new schtick.” She broadens her chest with a touch of pride. “Now that it’s the spendiest time of the year, I thought I’d double up on my business ventures. Aside from A Whole Lotta Touchin’—my snazzy in-van massage service—I thought I’d jump into the scented candle game. They’re infused with essential oils, and I’ve got a candle for whatever ails you. Got a sore arm, Judge Baxter? Try Eucalyptus You Right Up. Got a broken heart, Foxy? Try A Hot Night with a Blonde. All the candles have fun and flirty names. And coincidentally, they all have the potential to lead to a fun and flirty good time, too.”
A Whole Lotta Touchin’ is indeed the hot oil massage business Carlotta runs out of her van. And yes, it’s just as skeezy as it sounds.
And I’m the one they hauled to the sheriff’s station last month? Pfft.
I’m about to ask her to put the candles out and help me carry the rest of my desserts out into the ballroom when from the corner of my eye I see something skipping right through an entire row of my eggnog trifles. I turn that way and, horror upon horrors, I spot a tiny brown mouse jumping from one creamy confection to the next and I lose it.
“AAAGGHHHHH!” The scream shrills from me. Instinctually, I swipe up a wooden broom sitting to my right and wield it like a weapon. The tiny little mouse stops dead in its tracks, and I’d swear on all that is holy, it just looked at me with a worrisome expression. In fact, its little front paws are hovering over its mouth as if it were genuinely concerned, and it should be.
Another scream rips from me as I try to lunge for it, but it jumps down the counter and heads straight over to Noah where it runs up his shoulder before bouncing onto his head.
I aim that broom for Noah’s head while screaming as if my hair were on fire. I do my level best to swat it off of Noah’s face and Noah does his best to deflect my every move as he lets a couple of salty expletives fly.
“Lemon,” Everett riots. “Keep it up. He’s still standing.”
“Everett,” Noah barks. “It’s not funny. Get that thing away from her.” He tries to duck, but I continue to do my best to shoo that rodent off of him.
Sure enough, the little furball jumps up on the island, threading its way around the candles, and I bat at it, inadvertently setting the tip of the bristles aflame.
Carlotta is screaming, too—albeit with laughter—while Everett and Noah take a defensive position as they try to coax me into giving up my flaming weapon.
The tiny mouse leaps from the counter and right onto Everett’s chest as I swing the broom his way, leaving a trail of sparks in my wake.
Everett lets a few expletives fly himself as he jumps out of the way.
“What the hell is going on, Lemon?” he shouts, trying to get ahold of the broom, but I lift it out of his grasp.