Merried Read online

  She doubted it. Not like Max could.

  He turned a slow circle, scowling at the sky as though he could use sheer willpower to find the beast. The groom was pulling his weeping—no, laughing bride off the stage, the wedding party on their heels.

  Merry squinted at the bride.

  She was.

  She was laughing so hard her face glowed. The groom wore a rueful smile, and when the two of them looked at each other—

  No. No, Merry didn’t have time to contemplate fairy tales.

  Because—an owl?

  “Dammit, Daddy,” she muttered.

  She had to hand it to him.

  As far as distractions went, this one was fan-freaking-tabulous. Brilliant.

  Something devious Uncle Sandy would do.

  Ensuring the safety of the Mrs. Claus diamond engagement ring had been peripherally on Merry’s radar when Mom had announced she and Patrick were eloping to Bliss, but now it was front and center. She ducked her head and started toward The Aisle, Bliss’s main downtown street, which was lined with bridal shops. The town boasted being the Most Married-est Place on Earth along with being the bridal capital of the Midwest. The shop district left no doubt that the second reputation was well-earned.

  She couldn’t run without drawing attention to herself. More shrieks and gasps echoed through the night behind her. Ahead of her, the scattered groups browsing the lighted window displays along The Aisle had all turned their attention to the monument.

  Merry cut down a side street and slipped into the darkness. In Phoebe Moon’s latest book—released just days ago—she stopped villainous Uncle Sandy from stealing all the sunlight in the world. Merry had struggled with writing the story, because she liked the darkness.

  It was an easy place to hide.

  She turned and dashed down the alleyway that ran behind With This Ring, Max’s family’s jewelry store.

  She’d dated him for a month before she found out he was from a long line of jewelers. And then he’d dropped the double bomb of not being from just any family of jewelers, but from the family of jewelers who had created the infamous Mrs. Claus diamond.

  The engagement ring was relatively new in the world of famous gemstones. Designed to look like a snowflake, it had been commissioned by horror novelist Spencer McGraw in honor of the success of his book about Santa Claus’s cursed family diamond that kept killing every Mrs. Claus he chose.

  Two weeks after Mr. McGraw had presented the ring to his fiancée, a tragic accident had taken her life, and the ring had been sent back to Bliss for permanent display. Merry had been in her early teens the first time she heard Daddy mention it in passing.

  Daddy talked about a lot of famous jewels. Didn’t mean he planned to steal them all.

  But right now, she knew Daddy had his sights set on the Mrs. Claus diamond ring.

  If she’d never dated Max, the ring probably never would’ve been in danger.

  Her steps slowed.

  So did her breathing. She studied the darkness, watching for a shadow to shift, listening for a rock to rattle, sniffing for any subtle scent of sin.

  Daddy didn’t often share his plans with her, but after he’d pulled her into a bungled job in Chicago last year, she’d had to disappear.

  It wasn’t the first time, but it would be the last. Because last year, she’d left behind a life she’d liked. For the first time in over a decade, she’d been comfortable. Secure. She’d had friends. She’d had a boyfriend.

  And because Daddy wouldn’t change, she’d had to leave it all behind.

  But she could change. So she’d made plans. And in the course of executing her plans two weeks ago, she’d stumbled onto a fake Mrs. Claus diamond in one of her storage units.

  Daddy only replicated famous jewels he planned to steal.

  He routinely did smaller snatch-and-dash jobs, but those were all done in the name of justice. Of righting wrongs. Of playing Robin Hood.

  But the Mrs. Claus diamond?

  This one had personal and big score written all over it.

  Merry stood motionless in the alley. Snowflakes drifted lazily in the still air. Santa’s voice whispered in the distance, just a tone, no distinct words.

  No headlights or flashlights cut the inky darkness.

  No one was fiddling with the lock at the back of With This Ring.

  She cast a glance at the roof, then studied the buildings on either side. With This Ring shared one wall with As You Wish, the bridal planners Mom had hired to orchestrate her quick wedding, and the other wall with Indulge, Bliss’s gourmet chocolate shop. A public parking lot stretched from The Aisle to the street behind it on the other side of Indulge, which was the first place Patrick had insisted on taking Mom this morning.

  Mom.

  Mom and Patrick were back in the commotion at the festival. Merry whipped out her phone and double-checked her cash and ID. No messages from her mother, so she sent a quick text. You okay?

  And that was when she smelled it.

  Brut.

  Her father’s favorite cologne.

  The hairs on her arms prickled, and her back twitched as though someone had poured diamond dust down her coat. She turned in a slow circle, alert for any change. Atmosphere, scent, temperature, noise, anything. The parking lot was six feet behind her.

  “If you love me at all,” she said into the stillness, “you will leave. Now. You don’t need this score. Go find another mark.”

  Her scalp tingled and her pulse surged. The scent lingered, but nothing moved. Not a shadow. Even the snowflakes had stopped.

  Her phone buzzed. She turned in a slow circle again, watching, waiting. A car engine whined nearby—somewhere within a block, not on The Aisle, but the street behind it—then faded.

  “I mean it,” Merry whispered. If Phoebe Moon ever got old enough for a phone, she was getting a flip phone. Damn smart phones didn’t work for speed dial when silence and alertness were necessary. “Go. Away.”

  A jingling step approached from the side of the building across the alley. She spun toward the parking lot.

  She hadn’t seen Daddy in almost a year. And while she’d definitely hug him and hit him, she didn’t know which she’d do first.

  Maybe she’d yank his ear while she was hugging him and see if that would make him listen.

  But when the owner of the footsteps came into view, he wasn’t Daddy.

  Nope.

  Not even close.

  He was much, much worse.

  Chapter 2

  This boy was the kind of boy Sister Mary Elvira at the orphanage had warned Phoebe Moon about. Tall, dark-eyed, and old enough to drive.

  He was also Phoebe Moon’s last hope.

  —Phoebe Moon and the Missing Sunshine

  * * *

  Max Gregory was used to being a man of many hats, though he was looking forward to once again being a man who wore pants. With only a layer of cotton between the winter air and his manhood, he was in danger of freezing his nuts off.

  He snagged the tiara off the passenger seat of his sister-in-law’s car. The piece was bent and missing several gems, but the crazy-ass, wedding-crashing owl had dropped it back on the stage on its second pass to dive-bomb the festival. Max had rescued the old costume jewelry before the owl could snag it again.

  The gems might be fake, but Gramps had designed the tiara for Gran to match the Mrs. Claus diamond engagement ring that had made With This Ring famous. It deserved a place of honor in the store.

  Especially now that Gramps and Gran were both gone.

  Keys and tiara in hand, Max turned the corner to the rear of the building and stopped dead in his tracks.

  Merry Silver—if that was really her name—had her arms crossed over her dark puffy coat, one hip cocked, and a glower that suggested she’d be happy to use her boot to crush his frozen balls to bits.

  His heart twisted, adding a kick to the sudden hollow ache in his chest. He tightened his grip on the tiara and mimicked Merry’s stance
.

  Of the two of them, he had more reason for doing the glowering. But instead of lighting up with righteous outrage or fear for his family’s jewels, his bones sagged with a relief he didn’t want to acknowledge.

  Merry’s eyes flared wide for a fraction of a second before her glower and her arms dropped.

  Had she been expecting someone else?

  She had a smart phone in one gloved hand and her other hand balled into a fist.

  “What have we here?” Max said softly.

  The desire to check the door to his family’s jewelry shop warred with an instinct not to take his eyes off her for a microsecond. Not even to blink.

  “My mom’s getting married,” Merry said. “She needs a ring.”

  “Most people would go to the front door. In the daytime.”

  Her head cocked, and the ruddy knit hat hiding her ebony hair tilted. She took another step closer to his family’s store. “I’m sure most people would.”

  Max angled toward her and caught a hint of spring flowers. Soft, fragile, feminine. She hadn’t changed her shampoo since he’d last known her.

  She shifted closer to With This Ring.

  Her cheekbones were sharper, her nose more delicate, her body more clothed than when he’d seen her last.

  And unlike those two months he’d known her—when, he’d discovered after hours of research into her father, he hadn’t actually known her at all—she apparently didn’t feel the need to pussyfoot around what she wanted now.

  Had she been anyone else, he would’ve pinned her down while calling the cops.

  But Max didn’t trust himself to touch her. Because too big a part of him was drinking in the sight of her whole, alive, and seemingly unharmed.

  He twisted to follow her, circling instead of stopping her. “Most women want to pick their own wedding ring.”

  “When you’ve had seven or eight, the details matter less.”

  Seven or—Jesus. He hadn’t looked into her mother.

  If she even had one. “She kill the first six or seven?” Max asked.

  Her straight dark eyebrows lowered, and he had the distinct impression they’d just put him in his place before she ever opened her mouth. “Only two. And not in any ways punishable by law.”

  Hot adrenaline surged through his veins, and the heady taste of a challenge sharpened his senses. “Where’s your mother now?”

  “Gown shopping.”

  Hell.

  Max gripped the tiara tighter. There were three gown shops on The Aisle, and two more within walking distance of downtown.

  All owned by his friends and the families of his friends.

  “One more thing most people do in the daylight.” He reached for his phone, then realized his mistake.

  Merry had circled him just right to put herself close enough to the parking lot to make a run for it.

  Max lunged. “Stop!” He caught her wrist, but before he could blink, he was flying, flipping upside down, through the air. He landed on his back with a thud, his arm twisted so tight he couldn’t move, the air so effectively knocked out of his lungs he momentarily couldn’t remember how to inhale.

  Merry leaned over him. “Nice tights.”

  She dropped Gran’s tiara on his chest. Max tried to grunt out a coherent response, but she was gone.

  * * *

  Adrenaline had cramped Merry’s stomach, and her pulse was still racing fast enough to outpace one of Daddy’s getaway cars four minutes later when she stepped into the ornate country club where the festival had been relocated.

  Phoebe Moon never broke a sweat.

  But then, Phoebe Moon was invincible, and she hadn’t yet discovered boys.

  Neither of which applied to Merry.

  Max probably had cops out hunting for her right now. If handcuffs had to be involved, the Merry of a year ago would’ve preferred they be handled by Max himself, in his bedroom.

  The Merry tonight didn’t have the luxury of indulging in lusty fantasies. She had to find her mother.

  She followed the ivy-trimmed hallways toward the swell of voices. She turned a corner, and a set of double doors opened before her into a large ballroom. Stately Christmas trees stood in each corner. People milled about, coats unzipped, gloves off, cheeks pink, earrings and necklaces and rings sparkling.

  She scanned the room, looking for Patrick or her mother while she plunged into the crowd.

  Four steps later, she bumped into a vision in white.

  “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” the bride said. “I was just—oh!”

  Her blue eyes went round, her pink lips parted, and she gripped Merry’s coat. “You’re the one who disappeared.”

  A shiver danced across Merry’s skin. She didn’t recognize the blonde woman, but obviously the woman recognized her. Merry plastered a bland smile on her face, gently removed the bride’s hand from her arm, and shook it instead. “Congratulations and many happy returns on your wedding. Excuse me—”

  “I had this dream about you after you disappeared last year. You were in a jail, except the jail was an elevator without walls, and it swung in the elevator shaft, which was really a disco dance floor. I’m so glad you’re not in jail. But it really wasn’t nice to disappear like that.”

  You’re busted, Merry Silver, Phoebe Moon said in her head.

  The groom stepped up, his crystal-blue gaze sharp and curious while he extended a hand to Merry and slid his other arm around his bride’s waist. “Every time I think I’ve met all of Kimmie’s friends, we find another. Josh Kincaid. And you’re…?”

  “Leaving,” Merry said.

  “This is Max’s last girlfriend,” Kimmie said. “Remember, I told you about the one who disappeared?” She tilted her head at Merry. “Are you here to break the curse?”

  “Curse?” Oooh, a curse, Phoebe Moon whispered. But Merry shook her head and extracted her hand from Josh’s. “Never mind. Sorry. I really need to—”

  “He found the Golden Bouquet,” Kimmie said. “Bliss legend has it that anyone who works on The Aisle who finds the Golden Bouquet is cursed to seven years of bad luck in love, and Max found it during the annual hunt almost five years ago. So when you disappeared, it was like fate. But you’re back! The others never came back.”

  The others?

  Merry gagged her jealous side and shook her head at Kimmie. “I think you have me mistaken for—”

  “Merry, right? You liked the fruitcake cupcakes. Nobody liked the fruitcake cupcakes, even when I made them, but you tried a sample and bought a half dozen.”

  She remembered the fruitcake cupcakes. She’d stopped in the bakery on The Aisle on her way to see Max, but she didn’t remember this bright, happy girl.

  Also, she’d shared the cupcakes with Max’s dog. Who loved them even more than Merry did. “Beautiful night for a wedding,” Merry said while she shifted a subtle glance around the ballroom. Where were Mom and Patrick? “But how about that owl?”

  Kimmie giggled. “It was inevitable. Josh ruined like six of my friends’ weddings before ours.”

  “Two,” Josh said.

  Kimmie grinned bigger, and Josh gave her a heart-melting, adoring smile that could’ve made Merry believe in fairy tales.

  “Kimmie! There you are.” A short, massively pregnant brunette with a giant of a redheaded man and an adorable brown-haired boy in tow descended on the happy couple.

  “Congratulations again,” Merry murmured, and while the brunette and the bride bumped bellies in a hug, Merry slipped away.

  But instead of looking for Mom and Patrick, she put her head down, pulled out her phone, and turned toward the door.

  Heading back to the B&B, she texted Mom.

  Her phone dinged in response almost immediately. Sleep well, darling. We’ll be out late.

  If anyone else spotted Merry, there was a possibility she’d be out late too.

  She just hoped it wouldn’t be Max or the police.

  * * *

  By the time Max had regained his di
gnity, stashed Gran’s tiara inside With This Ring, and checked all of the gown shops in Bliss, the festivities were breaking up for the evening.

  “Merry Christmas,” someone called to him.

  He waved back. “Happy New Year.” Thanksgiving had been barely over a week ago, but hell if he could bring himself to wish anyone a merry anything.

  Even if he could still smell her shampoo and had just gotten over the semi he’d had since she laid him out flat.

  Who knew getting taken down by a girl could be such a turn-on?

  But then, it was Merry.

  No matter how furious, how suspicious, or how stupid she made him—both tonight and last year when she’d disappeared—she was also the only woman he’d wished had stayed longer after it was over.

  Max limped past the mirror in the lobby of the Rose and Dove and checked a grimace at the sight of his crooked elf hat. He trod through the building to the ballroom where Dan and Rachel were chatting with festival stragglers.

  Max’s brother and sister-in-law had taken over Santa and Mrs. Claus duties for Gramps and Gran last year, but this year, they were harder to watch.

  Not because Dan and Rachel weren’t the perfect Santa and Mrs. Claus. Rach had decorated enough candy canes with craft eyes, red fuzzy noses, and pipe cleaners that every kid in Bliss could fully adorn a six-foot Scotch pine with Rudolphs alone. Gramps’s old suit fit Dan perfectly, and he had the jolly Santa chuckle down pat.

  But Dan and Rachel could never be Gramps and Gran. Max would’ve sacrificed his frozen nuts to still have them here.

  With the festival wrapping up now, Dan had pulled off his Santa hat and let his wiry white beard hang crooked. Rachel glanced at Max and gasped. “What happened?”

  “Your car’s fine,” Max assured her. It had been closer than his, so he’d borrowed her keys for the quick trip to the store.

  “Problem with the reindeer?” Santa Dan suggested.

  Rachel’s features twisted up in sympathy. “Oh, Max. Did the curse strike again?”