A Christmas to Dismember, Addison Moore [howl and other poems .TXT] 📗

“Fifteen.” She rolls her eyes at Macy, and I can’t help but chuckle at her teen-sponsored enthusiasm.

“Nice to meet you, Elsie. I’m Bizzy. I run the inn. Quinn, the man that’s putting on the event tonight, is my boss. So I take it your mom knows Quinn?” I know so much because she told me so herself when we met in the lobby. “Did she work for him at one time?”

“I don’t know anything about her working for him.” She tugs on a lock of her hair as she glances their way. “But she’s, like, low-key thirsting on him. It’s been going on for years. She’s convinced he should have been my daddy.” She says daddy in air quotes. “But he’s not, and I think she blames him for everything that’s gone wrong for her. But don’t worry. My mom is a pro at revenge.” She gives a wild wave to someone behind me and takes off screaming with laughter.

Macy makes a face. “I need that kind of energy.”

“What did she mean by ‘low-key thirsting on him’?”

“Who knows?” Macy shudders. “This is why I don’t have kids. I don’t have the energy to decode what they’re trying to say. Which brings me to my next point—have a couple of kids already, would you? I can’t be the cool aunt without a crew of littles to be cool to. By the way, they’re missing out on some majorly awesome gifts this year. I had an opportunity to snatch up one of those hard to find game consoles.” Her attention quickly gets hijacked to something or someone behind me. “Ooh, I see a hottie, and I bet he rides a Ducati. This place is crawling with billionaires. Good work on hauling in the upper echelon. How much do you charge for this dating service? Never mind. I’m family. Wish me luck.” She darts off, and I follow her with my gaze, only to see her stop cold in front of that man with the partially shorn head of hair that was speaking to Quinn out in the lobby.

I can’t help but shake my head at my lust-driven sister. I have to give her credit, she doesn’t miss a beat when a good-looking man is in the vicinity. Here’s hoping he’s unattached. I’m not sure what my sister’s boundaries are anymore. My eyes drift toward the crowd, and I spot a tall, dark, and unstoppably handsome homicide detective headed this way.

Jasper’s lids hood over his lightning gray eyes, his dark hair is freshly slicked back, and he slays in a dark suit with a crimson tie. And as he strides past the masses, an entire line of socialites is left fanning themselves in his wake.

His lips curl up with wicked intent. “Kiss me if I’m wrong, but those reindeer out front really do know how to fly.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” I say, pulling him in by the tie. “You should be careful when hitting on women like that. There’s a hot homicide detective who happens to find his way into my bed every night—lucky, lucky me. He’s liable to arrest you. And have I mentioned he shoots on sight?”

He pretends to frown. “Maybe I should call the cops and have you arrested?” He glances down at my dress that hugs my curves in all the right places. “Because it’s illegal to look this good.” Jasper comes in for a kiss, and I don’t stop him. Instead, I reward him with something to look forward to.

“Macy thinks we should start on a couple of kids.” I bite down a smile. “But I’m not quite ready for them.”

He feigns disappointment. “I’m not either, but you know what they say, practice makes perfect. No point in not trying.” He waggles his brows. “I’ll boot that homicide detective from your bed tonight and we’ll get cracking at it.”

A laugh pumps from me, and I turn my head slightly and spot Quinn by the refreshment table with that man Macy was trying to hit on. The man looks red-faced and angry, and Quinn looks disturbed as well.

“I don’t think Quinn is having the best night,” I say to Jasper, and he turns their way.

Warwick, the stalky man with the white beard I met earlier, steps between the arguing men and the younger man leaves in a huff. Warwick jabs a finger in Quinn’s chest as they exchange a few words of their own, and soon Warwick takes off in the opposite direction.

Quinn’s eyes drift my way and he manufactures a smile for both Jasper and me, raising his cup our way before taking a sip.

“Oh, I’m so embarrassed,” I say to Jasper as a crowd moves between my poor boss and us. “That man traveled all this way. I hope he has a good time tonight.”

Jasper’s chest widens as he scans the room. “How can he not? He’s surrounded by five hundred of his closest friends and you, his beautiful manager.”

“Therein lies the problem. Have I mentioned that he hasn’t stopped hitting on me since he arrived?”

Jasper’s eyes widen. “The man dies tonight.”

The lights flicker, and everyone scurries to their seats, including Jasper and me. The curtains close for a moment then reopen with a single spotlight shining down on the stage as the rest of the room remains enveloped with darkness. Soon, we’re treated to an adorable play about Santa getting stuck in the chimney and watch as a group of teenagers uses an axe to break him free.

An elegant choir is up next, each member in a pristine cranberry colored robe as they sing an awe-inspiring rendition of “Silent Night”.

A few more skits take place, and there’s even a comedian who takes the stage, leaving us all in stitches. But the pièce de résistance is the lady in the dress that looked as if it was comprised of red rubies, the woman I met in the lobby, the one who looked as if she was slipping a