by AJ Alexander
Finding Mistletoe
AJ Alexander
Copyright © 2020 by AJ Alexander
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design: KL Donn, Alluring Write Productions
Created with Vellum
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Christmas of Love Collaboration
About the Author
Introduction
Welcome to Santa Claus, Indiana where Christmas isn’t just a holiday, it’s a way of life. Join these 12 amazing authors with 11 wonderful books as they bring you some instalove, a little mystery, and maybe some thriller, for a romance filled holiday!
The community of Santa Claus was designed in 1849. The story of how it received the name of Santa Claus has roots both in fact and legend. In January 1856 the town applied for a post office to be installed.
On June 25, 1895, as part of a nationwide standardization for place names, the post office name was changed to the one word Santaclaus. The town's unique name went largely unnoticed until the late 1920s, when Postmaster James Martin began promoting the Santa Claus postmark. The name was changed back to Santa Claus on February 17, 1928. It was then that the Post Office Department decided there would never be another Santa Claus Post Office in the United States, due to the influx of holiday mail. The growing volume of holiday mail became so substantial that it caught the attention of Robert Ripley in 1929, who featured the town's post office in his nationally syndicated Ripley's Believe It or Not! cartoon strip.
Learn more about this unique town here: https://santaclausind.org
Chapter 1
Lucas
“Pack your shit. You’re headed to Santa Claus for the week,” my publicist, Shelly, states as I take a seat in front of her desk.
I planned to spend my holiday break sitting in my apartment, wearing nothing but my underwear, and playing Madden. Apparently, she has other ideas.
“Santa Claus? As in Father Christmas?” I raise my eyebrow in question, letting my inner smartass make an appearance. Hopefully, my attitude doesn’t anger Shelly too much.
“No. The city, asshole,” she deadpans as she slides a large manila envelope across her desk toward me.
“Do I want to know what’s in here?”
Shelly flips me off as her phone rings.
“Alright, I’ll be a good boy.” I raise my hands in surrender.
Without pausing her conversation, she pushes back from her desk, pausing to smack me in the back of the head before heading out of her office.
I look down at the envelope sitting in front of me and sigh. “I really don’t want to open this.”
Before I change my mind, I unfasten the split pin and pull out the contents, taking a few moments to process the gruesome images on the paper. I’m looking at a collage of photos of me and my ex-girlfriend, Kayla—who is now my best friend—meticulously placed across the paper. Nothing too alarming…unless you look closely. Someone has aggressively slashed across her face and torso, splashing what seems to be blood across it. As my eyes track every detail on the paper, I pause when they reach the message spelled out at the bottom in newspaper clippings.
If I can’t have you, no one can. Especially Kayla Campbell.
“Well, that escalated quickly,” I mumble to myself before dropping the envelope and its contents back onto Shelly’s desk.
Somehow, over the course of my mediocre NBA career, I got myself a stalker. Everyone has their theories about how it happened, mostly to do with a jilted lover, but this person, whoever they are, has never gone this far before. I have been going back and forth with the police for a while now, but nothing ever came of it. Hopefully, now that Kayla is in danger, they will do something about it.
Unable to sit any longer, I walk around Shelly’s desk, examining all the awards and photos on her wall. Shelly Campbell is one of the best at her job, known for kicking ass and taking names for her clients. Shelly treats everyone the same, whether they’re a problem child like me or a massive superstar. If you show remorse for your actions, she is there to help you dig yourself out of the hole you found yourself in. It’s this reasoning that has kept my sorry ass on her roster for all these years.
I wasn’t a top round draft pick or anything, but I held my own. After being passed around from team to team for a few years, I found my forever home in Indiana and met Shelly. I got into some trouble a few years back, putting me on thin ice with Shelly and the team, but have stayed on the straight and narrow for the past year. Before today, my only concern was my three-point average, but now it seems my stalker has other plans.
I drop into Shelly’s seat and switch on the television. The announcer’s face fills the screen as she spouts off tonight’s feature story.
Tonight on ET, Lucas Barnes has been spotted once again with his on-again, off-again leading lady. Check out their intimate embrace outside LA Hearts this past weekend. Kayla is quick to flash the cameras a look at her new shiny ring. Will there be wedding bells ringing this holiday season?
For once, the press got the story partially right. My ex-girlfriend-turned-best-friend is getting married…but not to me. What they caught was the two of us coming from lunch a few days ago after she shared the news. Our “intimate embrace” was me catching her when her heel broke, but no one noticed that. Something so simple will not sell papers.
“That was Marcus. Kayla received a similar envelope this morning. I’m not sure how they found out before the story broke earlier today,” Shelly states as she re-enters the room, pausing opposite of me and crossing her arms across her chest. “Get your ass out from behind my desk.”
Shelly Campbell is not what you would expect from a famous sport agent, but she is the best there is. It’s why I hired her. With long blonde hair and a body like a Victoria’s Secret model, she is a force to be reckoned with. Too bad she ruins all of that by opening her mouth.
“Your seat, milady.” I give her a sweeping bow as I stand and hold her seat out for her.
Shelly rolls her eyes before plopping down into her chair and switching off the television. “Thankfully, we’re already ahead of this. I’ve already contacted the police; you need to head there and make a statement before leaving town. Marcus and I will handle the rest.” She pins me in place with her stare. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to get the hell out of Dodge.”
“I doubt this will be any different than all the other times. Besides, this whole story is a lie.” I drop back into my own seat. “Isn’t this what I pay you the big bucks to take care of?”
“I don’t want any of your shit, Lucas. We think your stalker means business. We need to ensure we do things by the book.”
“Fine. What’s in Santa Claus, anyway?” The only thing I know about the town is that it’s Christmas twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
“Nothing. That’s the point. I’ve booked Mistletoe Manor for the week. There are five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and almost five acres for you to get lost in. Can you stay out of trouble for that long? You can pick up the keys from someone name Misty at the Santa Claus store.”
My phone ch
imes in my pocket.
“I texted you the address and her contact information,” she continues.
“Is there anything in this town not named after something festive?”
If I have to spend more than a few days in this town, I may have a nervous breakdown. I’m all about celebrating the holidays, but being surrounded by it for too long could drive anyone insane.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Shelly responds as reaches into her desk and pulls out a set of keys. “Here are the keys to your bike, since that’s the most inconspicuous vehicle you own, but it’s supposed to snow this weekend.”
“Thanks, Mom! Can I have my allowance too?” I snark before grabbing my keys and standing to my full height. “I haven’t had a drink in almost a year. I don’t know why you’ve been holding these over my head.”
“Because I enjoy getting my paychecks. Scraping you off the pavement after you kill yourself on that thing hinders me from getting said paychecks.”
“Oh, you love me.” I give her one of my patented smiles before turning and heading for the door.
“That smile does nothing for me. If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it,” she whispers before calling after me. “Lucas!”
I turn around and notice the hint of fear in her eyes.
“Please be careful.”
“I always am.” I give her one more smile before pulling the door shut behind me.
I need to get home and pack. Apparently, I’m spending the week in Christmas Town, USA.
I spend the next few hours in the police station, going over all the sordid details once again. After making my statement, I head home to pack, hop on my bike, and head toward Santa Claus. The drive is straightforward, but I keep to the back roads. I manage to avoid people and can run my Hayabusa through its paces.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to let loose, and I’m feeling free for the first time in over a year. People have been sitting in the wings waiting for me to mess up again. It’s enough to drive a man crazy. I don’t agree with Shelly sending me out to the middle of nowhere, but I have a feeling this is just what I needed.
I pull off the main road on to North Holiday Boulevard, flying past the gingerbread house and a few other locations named after different holiday themes, but it seems to be just like every other small town I have driven through.
I change my mind the instant I turn onto what I can only describe as main street, revealing the Christmas-centric town I was expecting. I pull into the first available spot and remove my helmet as I kill the engine, then look around. I’ve parked in front of the visitors’ center, identified by the sign with the words written in bold directly in front of me. To my right is the post office, decked out in garland and multicolored twinkle lights, with the big guy dressed in his customary red suit in a position of honor front and center. To my left is the place I have been looking for.
“It’s now or never,” I say out loud before throwing my leg over the bike.
It’s time to enter Santa’s Workshop, the last place I expected to be when I woke up this morning.
Chapter 2
Mistletoe
“That will be one hundred dollars even,” I say to the older woman standing opposite me.
“Here you go,” the woman responds, pulling out a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill.
You don’t see people using cash often in these parts, but you can never be too careful. Not wanting to be swindled by the little old lady, I hold the bill up to the light to examine before swiping across it with a purple pen.
“Is that really your name?” the woman questions.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Having the name Mistletoe Claus would seem like a joke to anyone, but sadly, this is my legal name. When your parents make their living being Mr. and Mrs. Claus, you end up with a name made for a Hallmark movie.
“Yes, ma’am. But I prefer to go by Misty. Have a good day, and merry Christmas!”
The older woman waves before grabbing her purchase and heading out the door.
I sigh, stepping around the counter and replacing the Department 56 figure she just bought. You would think that with these things being so expensive, fewer people would buy them, but they practically fly off the shelves. My parents—hell, this entire town—are obsessed with Christmas. Even after my mom died in a car accident, my dad has always kept the Christmas spirit alive in our house.
People flock here in droves attempting to find Christmas spirit, but some of us can’t wait to escape, myself included. Growing up in a town centered around a particular holiday can be stifling. A deep love for Christmas runs through our entire family…until it got to me, that is.
I wouldn’t say I hate Christmas, but I could do with a few other holidays sprinkled throughout the year. It’s one of the main reasons I force my father to close the store from January until May. He runs off to warmer climates, and I’m able to think about something other than Christmas all day, every day.
“I’m going to have to order a few new figures,” my father mumbles behind me as he walks in from Santa’s workshop.
“Hey, Dad.” I give him a bright smile as I set the figure on the display and begin picking up the trash. “I have a list of what we’re running low on behind the counter. I wanted to make sure we didn’t forget anything this time.”
My dad smiles in return before gripping the back of his neck. “You know I would be lost without you, right?”
I nod my head.
“If only your mother could be here.” Sadness suddenly overtakes his features before quickly disappearing. “How about I get this order placed and we head over to the Brick Oven for lunch?”
“Sound good, but I can’t leave until the new renter for Mistletoe Manor arrives. Some hotshot rented out the entire place for a week.”
“Good for you! It will be nice to have some renters in that place before the Christmas rush begins.”
“I’m not complaining, but it would have been nice to have more than a day to get the place into shape. They’re lucky I had off this morning or I would have declined the rental,” I mumble to myself as I deposit the box and Styrofoam in the trash.
My mother named her old family house after me when I was born. Mistletoe Manor has been in my family for centuries, passed down to the eldest daughter in the family for no reason other than no one has had a boy as their firstborn in years.
My parents, Christian and Mary Claus, were both born and raised here. Determined to make a life for the three of us here in this small town, my father took over Santa Claus Workshop right after I was born. They became the quintessential Mr. and Mrs. Claus, and the rest is history.
The bell chimes over the door, signaling a new customer.
“Welcome to the Santa Claus Christmas Store.” I smile before stopping dead in my tracks.
My own personal Adonis ducks slightly and steps into the store. Chiseled jawline. His hair has that “just got out of bed” look. A leather jacket zipped to the top and fastened, more than likely to keep the wind from going down his neck as he races down the highway—the motorcycle helmet under his arm is a dead giveaway.
“How can I help you?” I squeak, pulling on my elf costume to control my nerves.
I have never been good at speaking to the opposite sex, mostly because I’ve never interacted with them. Being the chubby girl that lives and breathes Christmas never did me any favors with my peers.
“I’m Lucas. I’m looking for Misty. I’m supposed to pick up my rental keys from her.”
The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down my spine, and the urge to climb him like a tree overcomes me. I’ve never had this visceral of a reaction to anyone in my life. This can’t be a good sign.
“Yes, I have them right here. I wasn’t sure when you would arrive and wanted to make sure you knew where everything was.” My voice quivers as I head behind the register on shaky legs.
He flashes me a ten-thousand-megawatt smile as he pulls his sunglasses from his face, his bright green eyes alight
with mischief. “Thanks, but I’m starving. Do you know where I can get a decent slice of pizza in this town?”
“You could have me for lunch if you like,” I mumble under my breath as I pull the keys out of the top drawer.
“What was that?’” he questions as he moves closer to lean on the counter, oozing sex appeal.
I slam the drawer shut quickly as my cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Nothing important.” Then I turn in my dad’s direction. “Do you mind if Lucas tags along with us for lunch?”
“Sure, but I don’t want to close the shop for too long. Let me make this inventory order and I’ll join you two in a few minutes.”
“Does that sound okay to you?” I ask Lucas, hoping that he doesn’t mind my dad tagging along. “After lunch, I can take you over to the Manor and make sure you have everything you need.”
“As long as I can get some food, I’m game.” Lucas steps to the sides, pulling the door open for me.
I giggle quietly to myself before stepping out. Lucas follows quickly behind me, grabbing my hand as he pulls me across the street.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” I ask, unable to remember if I told him where Brick Oven Pizza was located.
“Nope, not a clue. I’m just following my nose.”
I shake my head before pulling him to a stop. “I don’t know where your nose is leading you, but we’re here.”
I attempt to remove my hand from his grasp, but he tightens his grip. He leans forward, close enough to kiss me, but quickly veers to the right.
“Ladies first,” he whispers into my ear before grasping the door with his free hand and pulling it open.
