Lucky and the Drowned Debutante

by Emmy Grace

  Hubba hubba.

  I open the door to find Liam standing on the porch, glowering down at me. Not even his expression can tame the smile that spreads across my face.

  “The grouch is out!” I exclaim.

  “How’s the shoulder?” he asks, his voice low and gruff. I don’t let that fool me, though. He was worried about me. That’s why he’s over here at the crack of dawn (well, the crack of dawn to me) checking on me.

  This is the Liam Dunning version of sweet and considerate.

  With a side of frowning grumpiness.

  “Good as new,” I say with a tiny wiggle of said shoulder. It causes a twinge of discomfort, but nothing that I can’t hide behind my bubbly personality. I can’t let any of these people see that I’m hurting. Otherwise, they might band together and never let me pursue another criminal, and that’s just unacceptable.

  So, downplay is the word of the day.

  I open the storm door for him and he steps through, stopping right beside me in the narrow space. “Liar,” he whispers.

  “Ray of sunshine,” I reply, broadening my smile to sarcastic proportions.

  He grunts down at me and then raises his gaze to the living room, which is extremely full for this hour. At least at my house it is.

  “Breakfast party?” Liam asks quietly.

  “Surprise party,” I mumble. “If you want to change your mind, it’s now or never. Once you get in with them…”

  He grunts again, but doesn’t even pause before he moves past me.

  “Brave soul,” I whisper as I shut the door again.

  Miss Haddy spots him and hails him over with all the enthusiasm of someone who is trying to marry me off. I think this is her version of introducing my intended to the family.

  Lord help Liam if Beebee gets wind of this.

  Bemused, I shake my head. I don’t get two steps away from the door when another knock happens. “What is this? Grand Central Station?”

  Absently, I reach for the door, wondering how much it would cost to have it replaced with a revolving door instead. Might be worth it if things keep going in this direction.

  This time, it’s Regina’s luminous face that’s staring back at me. I return the enormous smile that’s curving her lips.

  “Basking in the aftermath I see,” I tell her when she swings through the door.

  She practically swoons against the jamb. “You have no idea.” She pulls up short when she sees my full living room. “I saw the hearse and Liam’s truck, but it seems like so many more people when they’re crammed into your tiny carriage house.”

  “I know, right?”

  I close the door and we stand in front of it, staring at the people milling around my small living room.

  “I guess it’s a good thing you ordered Ann-n-Ann’s biggest Thanksgiving dinner for tonight,” Regina mutters.

  “Turkey is like that baseball field that Kevin Costner built. If you provide it, they will come,” I explain.

  “Most people don’t want the family they have, and here you go adopting more and more.”

  I smile contentedly and throw my good arm around my best friend. “My heart has room for all of ‘em.”

  “I know it does. Because you’re a crazy person.” When she turns to look at me, her eyes are soft brown and full of warmth. “But you’re an awesome kind of crazy and I love you for not letting the ugliness of the world steal that.”

  “Pssssh. Never.”

  “So tell me again what kind of madness I’m in for today?”

  “Well, it looks like we’re having breakfast with a few unexpected people and then I have the turkey maze, which you have to help me with, especially since I’m lame.”

  “You’ve always been lame. Since when has that stopped you?”

  I give her a look of pure disdain. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

  “Truth hurts,” she teases with a grin. “Then what?”

  “Dinner. With all the people we love most. Except Momma Leona. She couldn’t come.”

  “Aw, I hate that, but there are a lot of people here. You really think they’ll all come to eat with us?”

  I look at the happy, smiling faces of my friends. Well, except for Liam who’s frowning. And Mrs. S who’s frowning. And Malcolm who might be asleep with his eyes open. Okay, so only two of them are actually smiling, but they’re happy to be here. I tell Regina, “ Honestly? Yes. I do. I think we’re all family now and this is where they want to be.”

  “May God have mercy on their souls,” she mutters.

  We both laugh heartily.

  Right up until Beebee yells across the room.

  “Come and open up your present, chère.”

  Crap.

  Felonious.

  23

  We go as a group to the center of town where Salty Springs townsfolk must’ve worked all morning to erect a very elaborate maze made of hay. If I had to guess, the bales of straw probably came from Old MacDonald and his farm, too. Unless Liam donated some, which he may well have done. He’d probably never admit to it, though.

  He’s a closet joiner, I’m discovering.

  He likes to pretend he’s the town recluse, but he’s not.

  The first person I see when I get out of Regina’s car is Suzie. She is walking across the street, away from her shop when she spots me, too.

  She stops.

  Stares.

  And then her face scrunches up as she tries to control her laughter.

  Regina comes to stand beside me. I don’t have to look over at her to know she’s staring at Suzie and laughing.

  Laughing with her.

  But about me.

  Suzie walks over, her face reddening more and more the closer she gets. She stops in front of me, her eyes raking me from head to toe as she shakes her head in amazement.

  “Yes, I’m dressed like a giant turkey stripper,” I confess before she can say a single word about my costume.

  On this beautiful Thanksgiving morning in the south, I happen to be wearing a nude colored spandex bodysuit that looks like it came straight from the set of 20-Minute Workout. The only difference is that mine has a strategically placed spray of feathers coming off my butt.

  My butt.

  It’s plumage that identifies me as a turkey.

  A turkey.

  “Felonious?” Suzie presumes, nodding toward the shorter matching bouquet of feathers that crowns my head.

  “No, this was my choice. Why wouldn’t everyone want to stroll through town while they appear to be naked except for a clump of feathers on their butt?”

  Just like Regina—and Liam and Miss Haddy and Mrs. S and Malcolm—tried to do when I came out of the bathroom wearing it, Suzie makes a valiant effort to contain her shocked amusement.

  “You look cute, actually.” That’s what she says, but I don’t believe a word of it. “You just have to wear it around town today, or…?”

  “Oh, if only. No, I get the grand pleasure of chasing turkeys through a hay maze in front of half the town’s kids and parents. While wearing a half-bald turkey outfit. And with only one good arm.” I wiggle my shoulder, which is sling-less at the moment. My costume was bad enough without adding a sling to it. Plus, the strap kept slipping off my shoulder. This material is slick as grease.

  “Well, it could’ve been worse.”

  “How, Suzie? How? I might as well be naked.”

  I feel naked. It’s very disconcerting.

  “At least it’s not a bikini like she made you wear after the accountant thing. And it’s only a day, not a whole week.”

  “According to the note that came with this, she didn’t want me to catch a cold. That’s why this at least covers my skin. Even though it doesn’t look like it.”

  “Look at the upside. I think Liam is very much enjoying your…tail feathers.”

  Suzie nods behind me and I turn to find Liam talking with Paul from the Inn. I thought he and Regina might become a thing, but it just never seemed to take off like I’d hoped. But
now I know why. A steamy hot, surly Marshal was in her future.

  The two men are standing on the sidewalk chatting, but Liam’s eyes are on me. When I wiggle said feathers and stick out my tongue, he rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to Paul.

  He doesn’t fool me, though. I see the corners of his mouth twitch.

  Liam liiike.

  Butterflies erupt in my stomach.

  “You’re right. Maybe it’s not so bad after all,” I acknowledge.

  “So you’re finally admitting it,” says Suzie.

  “Admitting what?”

  “That you’ve got a thing for Liam.”

  “I don’t have a thing for Liam. We have a—”

  Regina interrupts me. “If you say one more time that you two have a strictly professional relationship, I’m gonna pull off what few feathers you do have covering your butt.”

  “I was gonna—”

  “Fib,” Suzie finishes for me. “That’s what you were gonna do. Fib.”

  “Ugh, fine!” I say, throwing up my good arm in exasperation. “I might have a small, like teeny tiny, thing for Liam. But it’s just because he’s a really good kisser. And I’m kinda digging that farm guy thing.”

  Suzie and Regina look at each other and then back to me, their expressions dubious. “Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that,” Suzie says.

  “You’re as bad as Regina,” I grumble. “Come on. Let’s just get this over with.”

  I leave the two of them to walk under the arched entrance to the “event.” It boasts a huge cartoon turkey sitting atop a bale of hay and the words TURKEY MAZE in all caps.

  There’s a big enclosure of turkeys that rests at the mouth of the maze. They’re chattering away.

  “Hi, boys and girls,” I croon, bending down to speak to them.

  “Momma, look at her butt,” says a small voice from behind me. I snap upright and turn to find a little girl who was probably staring at my feathers as I bent over, but whose eyes are now being covered by her mother’s hand.

  “Hi,” I say with a smile. But that smile fades after about two seconds when I realize who the mother is. And who the kid is.

  The girl is the one I accidentally scared half to death with my Halloween chainsaw stunt. The woman is her mother, who tried to kill me with her bare hands for said scaring.

  The mother’s lips thin into a tight line. She gives me a nice long glare before she takes her daughter’s hand, spins her around, and stalks off with her in tow.

  “This whole town’s gonna need therapy by the time Felonious and I are done with them,” I mutter to myself.

  All of a sudden, as if that mother and her kid’s exodus somehow triggered a floodgate, children start pouring in from every direction. Like rows of ants following a scent trail to a picnic, they line up under the arch to get their turn to chase a turkey through the maze.

  “Show ‘em how it’s done, Lucky,” comes a familiar voice from the right.

  I glance over to see Miss Haddy standing with “my group,” which includes Liam and Malcolm, Mrs. S and Suzie, and Regina with Beebee.

  I smile into all their eyes, which are lovingly trained on me. I take a few seconds to give silent thanks for each one of them. I know I’ve found home, just like I know these are all the people I want to share it with.

  I take a deep breath and reach in for the latch to the gate which, when it opens, will allow the turkeys to run into the maze but not out into the town square. And lemme tell ya, run they do!

  Those turkeys come shooting out of the enclosure like brown streaks of lightning. Every single one is aflutter, rounding the first turn in the maze before I even look back to see the kids crowding in on me.

  With a squeal, I close the wire gate and take off into the maze, a giggling and joyous gaggle of kids right on my heels.

  The next time Miss Haddy tells me I won’t be able to catch a turkey, I’ll believe her. Even after an hour, I didn't get any closer than the kids did to catching one.

  They did, however, get their hands on a turkey. A turkey of the “lucky” variety.

  By the time I finally make it through the maze the last time to ensure that all the turkeys are safely ensconced in the return enclosure at the other end of the hay bales of torture, Liam is there waiting for me. His face is wreathed in a mischievous half grin.

  He leans around to check out my butt.

  “What happen to your tail?”

  I glance around to see that there is not a single feather left on my outfit.

  “I guess since they couldn’t catch a turkey, they decided to grab one of my feathers as they passed. I didn’t even feel it!”

  Which is weird.

  But then again, they’re not actually attached to me. Thank God.

  Liam sets his hands on my waist and starts walking slowly forward, which forces me to walk slowly backward. We duck back into the maze, and he doesn’t stop until I’m pressed into a corner, surrounded by bales of hay on three sides.

  “You sure it didn’t hurt?” he asks, sweeping one hand down over my butt and back up again before flattening his palm over my lower back. “Because I can help with that. I know first aid.”

  I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. “Now that you mention it, I think I do need some aid. I’m feeling a little breathless from the whole experience. Some CPR might be in order.”

  “I’m happy to help, ma’am,” he declares in his thickest southern drawl. His hazel-gray eyes flicker down to my mouth. “I’m more than happy to bring you back to life.”

  And that’s exactly what it feels like he’s doing–bringing dormant parts of me back to roaring, vibrant life.

  And then he dips his head and kisses me.

  Liam Dunning kisses me. For real.

  Like he’s as hungry for me as I suddenly am for him.

  I hold on for dear life, like I can’t get enough of him. Actually, I’m not sure I can. He’s kindled a fire in me that I don’t have a clue how to put out. Or even tame.

  But those are thoughts for another time. Right now, I’m content to be lost. Or maybe to be found.

  Either way, I’ll never think of a hay maze—or turkeys or Thanksgiving—the same way again.

  Next

  THE END

  UNLESS…

  You’re ready for more Lucky.

  To purchase book 6, LUCKY AND THE ELECTROCUTED EX, click HERE. Read on for a chapter one sneak peek.

  Lucky and the Electrocuted Ex

  Book Description

  Lucky Boucher never has to go looking for trouble. Trouble finds her just fine on its own.

  What do a strand of Christmas lights, cowboy boots, and a runaway crab have in common?

  Would you be at all surprised if I said me?

  I didn’t think so.

  Well, Salty Springs holiday season is in full swing and things are off to an amazing start. Right up until Momma Leona and Beebee show up at my door a week early, and they don’t bring good tidings.

  Gavin Rossdale (no, not the singer) is my ex, and by “ex” I mean ex boyfriend as well as my ex stalker. Somehow, he caught wind of my new address and he’s on his way to pay me an unwelcome visit. Fortunately for me, he never makes it. Unfortunately for him, it’s because he’s dead. His body is found not two miles from my house.

  And guess who the prime suspect is.

  Merry Christmas, y’all! It’s fixin’ to be a memorable one here in South Carolina. Better buckle your seatbelts. It’s liable to be a bumpy ride.

  Lucky and the Electrocuted Ex

  Chapter One

  I make my way up toward the roof on the rickety ladder I borrowed from Mrs. Stephanopoulos. It shifts and creaks with every step I take.

  Regina is at the bottom of the wooden death trap, presumably to hold it steady. She’s doing a terrible job.

  “Are you holding it tight? Because I’m wiggling up here like Snuffleupagus’ nose.”

  We call Mrs. Stephanopoulous, my landlady, Snuffleupagus. F
or years, Regina and I have nicknamed people we know based on some outstanding characteristic. Mrs. S. gets her moniker from her long, trunk-like nose, the very tip of which jiggles when she talks or laughs.

  Not that I’ve seen her laugh very often. Her personality is more Mad Dog Mattis than Mary Poppins.

  “Of course I’m holding it tight, but there’s only so much I can do with you bouncing around up there.”

  “I’m not bouncing around. I’m just trying to get to the roof, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Well, climb faster.”

  “I’m going as fast as I can. You’re gonna give me a heart attack. I’m already white knucklin’ it here. Just hold tighter.”

  I hear Regina’s sigh of frustration. “Are you sure this thing’s even safe?”

  “Of course I’m not sure. I think it was built by Jesus when He was a carpenter.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. If Jesus had built it, it would still be in perfect condition. Can you imagine, though, if actual Jesus built this actual ladder? If we were standing here, touching something tha—”

  “Regina!” I hiss, interrupting her wandering train of thought. “Focus! We can talk about Jesus’ woodworking later. Or ladder.”

  I snort.

  Regina snorts.

  “You’re a dork.”

  “I know, but I’m gonna be a broken dork if you don’t hold this stupid ladder.”

  I take a few more steps up. I don’t exhale until I am finally eye level with the gutters. I was aiming for the roof, but that seems a little ambitious at this point. The gutters will just have to do.

  I heft the thick loop of lights that’s wrapped around my shoulder up onto the roof and pick through until I can find the end of the plug.