Chapter 24 Talbot
TALBOT
I’m just doing this for the job. Seducing Misty, I mean.
That’s the technical term. It has nefarious implications, sure, but it’s not like I’m emptying out her bank account. Because you already did.
Usually, I don’t have this much trouble with my job. I’m a high-end hitman—no mess, no suspicions, get in and get out. It would be a lot easier if the ground didn’t keep shifting. I feel like I’m about to get sucked into an avalanche.
Misty fits so solidly under my arm.
I trail my finger along the white stripe of skin under the crop sweater above her waistband. It’s still warm despite the snow out.
“I’m never going to be able to show my face in the Christmas market again,” Misty moans.
“Most people were so drunk they won’t remember.”
“GrandPam always remembers.”
“Uh-oh!” I pick her up as she claps a hand over her mouth. “Look who’s on the GrandPam train. A recent convert! This calls for a celebration.”
“I can never say that again. She is my beloved step-grandmother—”
“Spamela!” I interject, laughing as she jumps on me. She swings from my neck as I kiss her.
“Think if I take off my shirt, your cool granny will give you free drinks?”
“You probably don’t even have to ask.”
“Your sex toys are in the snow outside the North Pole Pub, by the way,” I say by way of greeting Granny Keagan.
She scoffs. “That woman should be paying me.”
“Please, Gran,” Misty begs, “don’t take money from Mrs. Monroe’s son. That’s illegal.”
“Only if you get caught.” I fist-bump the old woman.
“Ten toes on the ground, Talbot, amiright? Ain’t see nuthin’. Don’t know whose sawed-off shotgun that is.”
“Damn right.”
“Now, look, sonny.” She pulls me close. “I’ve been talking to a gal I play bingo with—”
“Gran, you can’t be telling everyone who he is!”
“I didn’t say it was him. I just told her I might know a guy who could take care of her little problem.
She’s got all her daddy’s inheritance burning a hole in her bank account, and she wants to enjoy her golden years.
” Granny Keagan drops to a whisper. “She wants to go to Italy, and you can’t go to Italy with a sixty-year-old man who only eats plain ham sandwiches on white bread and buttered egg noodles.
She needs an Italian lover. She’s earned it, everything she’s done for this community.
Do you know that she makes the town wreaths? ” She points outside to the lamp posts.
“I mean, if she can pay…”
“Alcohol,” Misty groans.
Granny Keagan snaps her fingers. “St. Nick delivers! Bert quit an hour ago.”
“Oh no!”
“He’ll be back. He won the Christmas market raffle. He’s going to plow through that peppermint schnapps like Rudolph on the Serengeti.”
“I should have spent my money on a Christmas cruise.” Misty sighs.
“I did a job on a cruise ship, and it’s actually not all that glamorous,” I tell her. “Lots of entitled people. I saw two old women get in a fight at the all-you-can-eat buffet.” I roll my shoulders.
“Please don’t take your shirt off,” Misty says with a warning tone.
“Exactly!” Granny Keagan tells Misty, “We need to save the shirtlessness for after happy hour, keep people spending. Now we’ll see who can’t run a strip club at the Christmas market!” Her voice is raised, and she’s shaking her fist in the direction of the town hall.
“We’re supposed to be on a date. You can’t make him work, Gran.” Misty stammers at my smirk. “I mean, uh, well, we’re hanging out casually.”
“Really?” I purr. “You casually hang out with guys and let them buy you drinks and feel you up in front of the whole town? Guess GrandPam really should be disappointed in you, Gumdrop. You’re setting a bad example for Cocoa Puff. And here I thought that we were on a date.”
“I don’t want to put labels on it or back you into a corner.”
“No, I like it when pretty girls back me into a corner.”
Misty blushes at the wink.
She sets a gooey cinnamon roll studded with cinnamon apples on a plate for me. “You should soak up all that liquor.”
I take a bite. It’s still warm.
“Was this stolen too?” I kiss her then feed her a bite.
The frosting drips on her chin, and I lean in to lick it off, lingering.
“I’m going to assume from your silence that’s a yes, especially since the label on the case says ‘Grandma’s super-secret holiday cinnamon roll.’”
“Fine, she stole it from season three of the Great Christmas Bake-Off, but we add anise and allspice to the filling, and orange liqueur in the frosting.”
“When does happy hour start?” Several drunken young women stumble up to the bar.
“Whenever you want.” I give them a smoldering smile.
“Refill?” I ask one young guy, who plops his glass on the bar.
“I had a Hoppy Holidays?” He hands me his credit card.
The keg is empty.
“Cover me,” I tell Misty.
She hops up on the bar, slides over, spins on her feet, and grabs the card.
I head outside to hook up the next keg for the Hoppy Holiday.
It’s nice to be out in the daylight, the sun, among people. I’ve forgotten what that’s like.
Humming along to the Christmas carols blaring from the sound system, I search through the metal barrels chilling outside for the Hoppy Holiday beer.
I see the appeal, see why everyone wants to quit the corporate grind and open up a café, cupcake shop, or bookstore in a small town.
It’s charming. And it’s the best to work with the woman you’re in love with.
There are no complicated plans, just the endearing minutiae of small-town life where the only real disaster is running out of beer.
“What the fuck is going on?” Hudson’s thick-gloved hand slams into the wall next to my head.
“You didn’t just sneak up on me…”
“Of course I did. I could have put a knife in your back before you even knew what killed you.” He grabs my jaw. “You’re drunk, and you smell like cupcakes.”
“It’s a cinnamon roll. I’d give you one, but you’re pissing me the fuck off showing up at my jobsite. I don’t show up at your office and slap the reindeer dicks out of your mouth.”
“What the fuck?”
“They were selling them at the Christmas market. I bought Cocoa Puff one. Look,” I say to his angry face, “I’m deep undercover here, all right?”
“Really? Undercover?” He grabs the front of my shirt and shoves me against the wall. “It doesn’t look like you’re undercover. It looks like you’re trying to have some sort of happily ever after.”
“So you can do it, but I can’t?”
“You motherfucker.” He shakes me roughly. “Not with a client.”
“She doesn’t have to be.”
“Stop stalling,” Hudson snarls. “You were supposed to be done with this job a week and a half ago, and now you’re going to bachelorette parties, baking cookies, and working at a café.”
“I’m undercover.”
“You’re flailing.”
“Can we please just give her the money back? She can’t afford to hire me.”
“No. Refunds.”
“I’ll pay.”
“You’ll what?” He looks disgusted.
I don’t turn my face away when he gets up in it. “You heard me. It’ll be my little Christmas gift to the universe.”
“What the fuck? Are you in love with this girl?”
“No, just—never mind.”
“Don’t go soft on me, Talbot. I have jobs lined up for you. Don’t lie to me. I know you didn’t call Fitz back either.”
“I’m going to, but the time zone difference…”
“It’s not that difficult to take out one man,” Hudson warns. “I’m getting ready to do it myself. So, shape the fuck up.”
I return to the noisy café. People clamor for alcohol and questionably Christmas-themed food items. I pour out a mess of beers.
Misty’s been hoodwinked into waiting tables. “Sorry about this,” she says over the noise. “I’m terrible to take on dates. That’s why Austen—”
I grab her, sending the beers sloshing. “I don’t give a shit—” I bite her lip and suck on it. “What Austen did. I’m done with you obsessing over him, and after we get done here, I’m going to make sure you forget all about him.”
“Are we going to your lair?”
“You make it sound creepy. And I want to do it in your bedroom so whenever you’re alone, you think of me and just slipping between your sheets makes you aching and wet.”