Page 125 of Mistletoe All the Way
Noah’s lips part. His eyes widen. His fingers curl tight around the wheel. “What?”
I read their bio out loud, my gut sinking with every smooth, polished word about finding properties with untapped potential and turning them into coveted new hotels. “If Stephen gets the inheritance, he’s going to sell it to a hotel group. He’s not going to expand his bar. He’s going to kill the farm.”
Noah growls, low and menacing. But he’s not angry for long. In seconds, he snaps his gaze to me. “Did the mayor say Lucy was getting the saws or something?”
“Yes. Why?”
“We need to know what Stephen was doing at city hall, and sometimes you need a spy on the inside. Maybe we can find out if we spread a little holiday joy.”
40 THE ANTI-ELF
Noah
I can’t believe I just tracked down top-shelf apricot brandy to go with Lucy’s favorite fruitcake when we’ve only got an hour and thirty minutes until the final challenge. But on the list of things that have shocked me this holiday season, it’s pretty low, all things considered.
After all, I’m dressed in a fucking Santa costume. By choice. By idea. By design.
But I’ve got time since I don’t need to practice. I know how to chop down a tree.
What I need is a goddamn Christmas miracle. Maybe it’ll come in the form of help from a Halloween fanatic.
I walk into Lucy’s office, but I’m not alone. We picked up my brother from his clinic, so he’s here in scrubs, along with Eloise and me. I step into the doorway and Lucy’s gaze lands on me first—and she cackles.
She doubles over. “Oh my god, that is fucking hilarious. Thank you. Thank you so much.” When she finally stops laughing, she points to Eloise and says, “Is that why you called and asked me to wait a few minutes—so you could show me this? Because let me just tell you, totally worth it.” She closes a box from a hardware store. The saws.
“Yes, but it’s not the only reason,” Eloise answers, then gestures to me and to Chris, who’s by my side.
That’s my cue. I have no idea if we can pull any of this off, but this is my last chance. “I need some intel you might have,” I begin, opting for directness, then I add, “so I thought I’d play Santa.”
Lucy arches a suspicious, pierced brow. “Halloween Santa would have been better. But go on.”
I reach into the canvas bag and pull out the brandy. Then the fruitcake. Then I gesture to my brother. “Merry Christmas. I’d like to propose a gift exchange. I’ve got your favorite fruitcake and some brandy. My grandmother swears by it, and she’s the best at this stuff. And I’ve got my brother, who will happily record a Christmas video for your mother.”
Lucy narrows her eyes. “Let me guess—you want me to tell you what your cousin was doing around the permits office?”
“Um,” I say, stumbling on my words, because what just happened? Did I just discover a pile of money in the dryer?
Chris doesn’t miss a beat. He flashes that charming grin. “Sometimes if you’re nice, people just help you,” he says to me.
“Okay,” I say, still flummoxed.
“Can confirm,” Eloise adds.
But I really need Lucy to confirm. I turn to the anti-elf. “Lucy,” I say carefully. “What can you tell us?”
“He was here looking into the zoning rules for Silver Bells. He wanted to know if the zoning rules permit it to be rezoned for commercial hospitality use.” She gives a small frown, like she understands, too, what that might mean. Silver Bells would just be gone. “I’ve got it on my list to discuss with my aunt once the contest is over.”
On the one hand, I’m reeling as my suspicions are confirmed. I look to Eloise, and her lovely, mismatched eyes are rimmed with sadness as reality sets in. We weren’t wrong to case him. He is up to something dark. Something much worse than we could have imagined.
On the other hand, we’ve got the intel finally, and it was… almost easy. Then again—was it?
I had to stop being, well… a dick.
“Thank you, Lucy,” I say, “and Merry Christmas.”
Lucy waggles her phone at Chris. “Pay up.”
My brother grins and launches into a Christmas greeting for Lucy’s mom—but Lucy scoffs and says, “How about doing it as Santa?”
