Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Mail List
Acknowledgments
Books by Lily Harper Hart
Wicked Hearts
An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book Nine
Lily Harper Hart
HarperHart Publications
Copyright © 2017 by Lily Harper Hart
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.
Created with Vellum
Contents
1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six
7. Seven
8. Eight
9. Nine
10. Ten
11. Eleven
12. Twelve
13. Thirteen
14. Fourteen
15. Fifteen
16. Sixteen
17. Seventeen
18. Eighteen
19. Nineteen
20. Twenty
21. Twenty-One
Mail List
Acknowledgments
Books by Lily Harper Hart
One
“I’ve decided that I’m going to start introducing you as my future ball and chain.”
Jack Harker’s eyes gleamed with mirth and mischief as he helped his fiancée Ivy Morgan from his truck, grinning when she scorched him with a dark look.
“What? You don’t like that?”
Ivy didn’t know whether to laugh or punch him. Ever since getting engaged six weeks before – a Christmas gift that made both of their holidays the best ever – he’d been warming to his role of instigator. That meant he essentially got a kick out of igniting Ivy’s fiery temper when it came to wedding plans.
“That’s fine,” Ivy said, blasé. “If you want to refer to me as your future ball and chain then I’ll refer to you as my love bunny.”
“You say that like it should bother me, but it doesn’t.” Jack paused long enough to make sure Ivy tugged on her mittens. It was cold in Shadow Lake, the last gasps of winter descending upon northern Lower Michigan and readying to hold the area in a freezing fist for several weeks, and the last thing he wanted was Ivy coming down with a bug or getting a chill. “If you want to tell people I’m your love bunny, I’m fine with it.”
Ivy eyed him for a long beat, dubious. “What if I tell people you’re my love slave and you do whatever I want when we’re alone together?”
“I think that will make me very popular with the ladies.”
Ivy scowled. “You’re already popular with the ladies. Ever since you proposed, I’ve heard whispers that Maisie Washington and Ava Moffett are going to turn up their efforts to snag you. Apparently, they didn’t realize we were serious and now they want to rescue you from my clutches.”
Jack snorted, genuinely amused, and tugged a hat over Ivy’s dark hair. The long tresses were brown, which set off her blue eyes, but streaks of pink also glinted under the muted sunlight. From the moment he saw her, he thought Ivy’s hair was both odd and diverting, and yet he was drawn to her all the same. Now he loved her hair … and the woman herself … and he was looking forward to building a life with her.
That was a big change for a guy who moved to town nine months before, nothing on his mind at the time but doing his job as a police officer and fading into the woodwork. Jack moved to Shadow Lake to get away from his past. He did that. With Ivy’s help, he put away the ghosts that were haunting him. He also found his future and, even though he found it a bit schmaltzy and trite, he couldn’t imagine how he ever made it through a day without her.
“Ava Moffett and Maisie Washington don’t have anything on you, honey.” Jack slipped his arm around Ivy’s waist as they strode out of the parking lot. “You’re all that I want.”
Ivy cast him a sidelong look and smiled. “You’re all that I want, too.”
“I know. That’s why I proposed to you.”
Ivy let loose with a heavy sigh as she glanced down at her left hand. The mitten hid her ring – a solitary diamond that took her breath away when Jack gave it to her – but she could feel the reassuring weight there as she brushed her hand over the delightful bauble. She’d never been much for jewelry, but if she allowed herself a momentary girly indulgence, she was absolutely infatuated with the ring. She found herself constantly wanting to do that “annoying bride” thing and show it off to anyone who would look. She hated herself for turning in to one of those women, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Hey! Where did your mind go?” Jack snapped his fingers in front of Ivy’s face to get her attention, causing her to scowl.
“I’m not a dog,” Ivy complained, her temper flashing.
“I don’t know, I kind of think of you as my little fox,” Jack teased, refusing to let her draw him into a fight. Most people thought they argued far more than was healthy, but those individuals didn’t realize that was simply how Jack and Ivy communicated. They liked to talk – loudly – and then they liked to make up. The making up was usually enthusiastic and cathartic, leaving them closer than they’d been before the fight. One of the things Jack loved most about Ivy was the fact that he didn’t have to pretend to be someone else with her. They loved each other – warts and all – and he didn’t worry that an argument would derail their relationship.
“Ha, ha.” Ivy rolled her eyes. “As for my mind … .” She broke off, thinking about the ring. “You’ll think I’m schmaltzy if I tell you.”
“I happen to like you schmaltzy,” Jack teased, grabbing her around the waist and spinning her so her face was even with his chin, her chest heaving as she fought his strong muscles. “Tell me.”
“I don’t like it when you’re a Neanderthal,” Ivy complained, smacking at his broad chest. “I’m not going to tell you if you won’t let me go.”
Jack knew that was an outright lie. Ivy liked the game as much as he did. “I’m not letting you go until you tell me.”
“And I’m not telling you until you let me go.”
“It seems we’re at an impasse.” Jack’s lips curved as he lowered his mouth to within an inch of hers. “What should we do with our evening now?”
Ivy’s eyes flashed with impatience, but she knew when she was beaten. She rolled up to the balls of her feet, planted a hard kiss on Jack’s lips, and then wiggled her hips to escape while he was distracted by the lip contact.
“You don’t play fair,” Jack chided, wagging a finger as Ivy grinned.
“You can’t say that when you’re usually the one who uses your size as an advantage.”
“I think it’s an advantage for both of us.”
“Whatever.” Ivy was airy. “By the way, I was thinking how ridiculous I am about wanting to show off my ring. I was telling myself that it was an unattractive quality – kind of boastful – and there was no reason to be so girly.”
Jack snorted. “You’re so stinking cute I can’t stand it.”
“Yes, well, I’m also turning into o
ne of those crazy women who wants to show her engagement ring to strangers for no apparent reason,” Ivy said. “I think that I’ve been infected with some sort of mutant virus. The phenomenon is not going away like I thought it would.”
“Well, hopefully it’s something you’ll be able to survive,” Jack teased.
“I don’t know … you might want to run now. It could get worse.”
“No way. I’m right where I want to be.” Jack snagged Ivy’s hand as they walked toward the brightly lit town square. The entire park area was littered with carnival booths, a large bonfire pit serving as the center of attention in the middle of everything, and people were milling about as the festival organizers worked to set things up. “So … tell me what this shindig is again?”
Ivy pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at Jack’s use of the word “shindig.” Ever since moving north from Detroit, he’d tried to adapt his language choices so he would fit in better in the country. Unfortunately, all his language choices appeared to be inspired by hokey movies.
“It’s the Shadow Lake Festival of Love.”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that before,” Jack noted. “I’m not sure what it means, though. I mean … I get that it’s just in time for Valentine’s Day this weekend. Does it mean I get to spend the entire night telling everyone I love you while we hang out at the festival, or does it mean I get to switch you out for a newer model?”
Ivy narrowed her eyes. “You want a newer model?”
Jack grinned and shook his head. “No. I just like it when you get all worked up.”
“And why is that?”
“Because it makes me want to kiss you until you relent and forgive me.” Jack didn’t wait for a pithy response, instead ducking his head to sneak another kiss before Ivy could complain. Intellectually, Jack knew he’d turned into one of those men he used to hate, a guy who doted on a woman so much he was one misstep away from becoming whipped. Jack honestly didn’t care, though. The engagement was new enough that he felt light and floaty and he was enjoying the feeling for as long as it lasted. After that, he would enjoy whatever feeling that followed. For the first time ever, he knew where his life was heading … and he was thrilled with the direction.
“You just like it when you can make a challenge out of things,” Ivy argued.
“Yes, and you’re easygoing so it’s all me,” Jack drawled sarcastically.
“I am easygoing.”
“Honey, you wanted to pick a fight last night because I haven’t relinquished my old house yet,” Jack pointed out. “You were ready to derail our entire night because of it.”
Ivy swished her lips, frustrated. “I still maintain that’s weird. You were so excited to move in with me and yet you haven’t moved all of your stuff yet.”
“I’ve moved ninety-five percent of my stuff to your house,” Jack clarified. “I also have a lease that won’t run out for another two months, so there’s no hurry. The only stuff left out there is my fishing stuff.”
“Yeah, but … .”
“I spend every night with you. I live with you. I love you. I don’t know why the fishing stuff being at the other house drives you crazy.”
“I simply can’t figure out why you don’t want to move it to our house,” Ivy replied. “By the way, I don’t like it when you call it my house. It’s our house.”
“I’m still getting used to it. That was a slip of the tongue.” Jack gave her hand a friendly squeeze. “Honey, I haven’t moved the fishing stuff yet because there’s nowhere to keep it. You don’t exactly have a lot of storage space.”
Ivy balked. “What about the basement?”
“We have contractors coming to talk about the basement expansion in two weeks,” Jack reminded her. “I think that carrying things into the basement when we’re going to have to carry them right back out again is a waste of effort.”
Honestly, Ivy could see his point. When he first suggested updating the basement at her small cottage, she thought he was crazy. She loved the house beyond reason and didn’t want to change it, but Jack was the pragmatic sort. He pointed out that the house was barely big enough for the two of them. If they ever wanted to have a family – and keep the house Ivy loved so much – they were going to have to change things up and better utilize the space that they had.
With that in mind, Jack suggested hiring a contractor to turn the basement into a walkout. That meant adding two bedrooms and an office downstairs while cleaning up the main space to use as a recreation room. It was a daunting task and Ivy knew it was going to be a long spring and summer given all the construction, but she also knew it would be worth it when they were done. They were turning her house into their home … and she was beyond excited.
“Okay, well … you could move the fishing equipment to my library,” Ivy suggested.
“The fishing equipment stinks and I’m not doing that to the library,” Jack said. “The fishing equipment is fine. Once the weather breaks, I will grab it from the house and take it to your nursery until the basement is done. I can store it in one of the greenhouses. It’s fine sitting out there for the next few weeks, though.”
“Oh.” Ivy furrowed her brow. “You plan on taking it to the nursery?”
“I do.” Jack tilted his head to the side, confused. “Why? Did you convince yourself that I kept the fishing equipment at the other house for some nefarious reason?”
He knows me too well, Ivy internally groused. “No. Of course not.”
Jack flicked her ear, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning when she growled. “You’re a terrible liar. Admit it. You thought me leaving the fishing stuff at the other house meant something big.”
“I did not.” Now that he said it out loud, Ivy felt a bit foolish.
“You did so.”
“I did not.” Ivy rolled her neck and averted her eyes. “So, where do you want to look first?”
“Wherever you want is fine,” Jack replied, capturing her hand. “Just for the record, though, you’re a terrible liar and I knew you were thinking something stupid.”
Ivy blew out a sigh, resigned. “I didn’t mean to … insinuate … anything.”
“I know that,” Jack said. “You just thought I was keeping my fishing equipment separate in case I changed my mind and decided to run. Of course, I would just leave my clothes and personal belongings behind so I could grab my fishing equipment and flee into the dead of night.”
“Oh, I’m done talking to you,” Ivy muttered.
Her annoyance only served to entertain Jack further. “Honey, I have a year-long lease at that house. I can’t turn the keys over until the end of April. It’s not as if I’ll be saving any money and I have to regularly check the place in case there’s a catastrophe.”
“Oh.” Ivy slowed her pace. “I didn’t even consider that.”
“Yes, now don’t you feel like a fool?”
“I think you’re a fool,” Ivy shot back.
“A fool in love,” Jack playfully cooed, making a groaning sound when she smacked his arm. “You’re violent, woman. It’s a good thing that I happen to like my women feisty.”
“Oh, geez. If you’re about to verbally copulate, I’m going to turn right back around.” Max Morgan, Ivy’s brother, appeared at Jack’s side and grimaced when he heard the tail end of their conversation. “That’s my sister you’re talking about.”
“It is your sister,” Jack agreed, his smile returning. He was genuinely fond of Max despite the man’s penchant for drama. “She’s going to be my wife, though.”
“You just like saying the word ‘wife,’” Max groused. “Between Ivy showing off her ring to whoever will look at it and you saying ‘my wife’ like it’s some sort of secret code to get you into a rave or something, you two are quite the pair.”
“Thank you,” Jack said without hesitation. “Now, if you’ll hold on just a second, your sister and I were in the middle of a disagreement.”
“Aren’t you always in the middle
of a disagreement?” Max challenged.
“Only fifty percent of the time.” Jack turned a set of stoic eyes to Ivy. “The rental house can’t be returned until the end of April. I have to pay for the next two months regardless. The fishing equipment is fine there until the snow is gone. Then I’m going to take it to the nursery. I promise there’s no hidden meaning as to why the fishing equipment is staying at the other house.”
“I wasn’t being mental,” Ivy muttered under her breath, annoyed.
Jack barreled forward, ignoring the statement. “Besides that, you’re going to need to go to the rental house and help me clean it before I can turn over the keys.”
Ivy jerked her head up, surprised. “Why do I have to clean it? I didn’t live there. Heck, we never even spent a night there.”
Jack rubbed his chin, considering the statement. “That’s weird. You’re right. We never spent the night there.”
“It was like my house was always your house,” Ivy suggested, her smile back in place. “It was always meant to be our house.”
“Kind of, huh?” Jack returned the smile. “You’re still helping me clean.”
“Oh, geez. I hate cleaning,” Ivy grumbled.
“You’ll live.” Jack turned his full attention to Max. “Okay, we’ve made up. What’s up with you?”
“You guys should be studied for a few psych experiments,” Max supplied. “You’d make lovely case studies. You know that, right?”
“I’m more interested in the festival.” Jack flicked his eyes to the huge banner over the main walkway. It was littered with hearts and cupids, and the walkway heading to the bonfire area was offset with heart-shaped lanterns and pink twinkle lights. “What kind of festival is this?”
Wicked Hearts (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 9) Page 1
