The Housewife Assassin's Killer Christmas Tips (17 page)

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Authors: Josie Brown

Tags: #action and adventure, #Brown, #chick lit, #contemporary romance, #espionage, #espionage books, #funny mysteries, #funny mystery, #guide, #handy household tips, #hardboiled, #household tips, #housewife, #Janet Evanovich, #Josie Brown, #love, #love and romance, #mom lit, #mommy lit, #Mystery, #relationship tips, #Romance, #romantic comedy, #romantic mysteries, #romantic mystery, #Romantic Suspense, #Suspense, #Thriller, #thriller mysteries, #thrillers mysteries, #Women Sleuths, #womens contemporary

BOOK: The Housewife Assassin's Killer Christmas Tips
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“So, when are we going to decorate the tree?” I can barely make out Jeff’s question because it’s garbled by a mouthful of spaghetti and meatballs.

Jack taps him gently on the back of his head. “Hey, guy! You know better than to talk with your mouth full.”

Trisha waves her napkin at me. “Mommy, can we do it with Aunt Phyllis tonight, while you and Daddy are on your date?”

Some date. Sneaking into a self-storage warehouse to steal a MANPAD.

Jack will have to make it up to me, big time.

And by now, he should know a sex cruise is out.

Okay, maybe a little bondage, some role-playing … in a cozy little cabin in the woods somewhere…

Sorta like Snow White and the Huntsman. I have a weakness for men in tights.

“MOMMY! Mommy, wake up!” Trisha’s shrill squeal snaps me out of my fantasy. “Daddy says it’s up to you.”

I sigh. “In that case, I say we should wait until tomorrow, when Daddy and I can share in the fun.” I hold up a finger to ward off her next objection. “And besides, we need Daddy here because he’s the only one tall enough to put the angel on top of the tree.”

Trisha nods at the validity of this argument. Case closed.

“Aunt Phyllis just said it was okay for Trevor to hang out with me,” Mary murmurs.

“Oh, really?” I glare at Aunt Phyllis, who smiles supremely back at me. “What the hey? He’s a cute boy. Besides, he’ll keep her busy while I watch my television shows.
Secret Lives of Husbands and Wives
is on tonight!”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. I don’t want Mary to be kept ‘busy,’ Aunt Phyllis. I want her in your sight at all time.”

“Since when did you get to be such a stick in the mud? Just because she’s more popular than you were at her age—”

I slam the pepper shaker on the table. “Who says I wasn’t popular?”

“I guess all those kids who made fun of your braces. Or was it your zits?” Aunt Phyllis takes another gulp of wine. “I don’t remember anymore. Boy, kids can be cruel at that age!”

Mary stares over at me, as if seeing me for the very first time.

Suddenly, I feel twelve again. I run my tongue over my lips. No, the braces aren’t there any more, thank goodness.

When I was her age, I would have loved to have been even half as cool as Mary. 

We can’t change the past.

That’s okay. It makes us who we are today.

And right now, I’m a mother with three kids who think they can pull one over on my dotty old aunt. Nope, not gonna happen. Time to pull rank. 

“Okay, listen up, everyone. No company allowed while your father and I are out of the house. It’s a school night, remember? Homework first, then baths, then you can watch some television before bedtime. Trisha, you’re in bed by eight-thirty. Mary and Jeff can stay up an hour later, but no more.” It dawns on me that for the first time since we sat down to dinner, I’m the only one yelling. I lower my voice as I add, “And thank you for obeying my rules.”

All eyes shift to Jack, the softie.

He holds up his hands. “What she said. Your mom is always the boss.” 

Ah, those words are like music to my ears.

They’ve earned him a few more brownie points.

He can cash them in when we have a real date.

I pat his hand. “The curtain goes up soon. We better skedaddle.”

It’s show time.

 

 

“So, how old were you when you had your first kiss?”

Jack’s question almost has me swerving off the road.

The decision to take his car was probably a smart one because we may need a quick getaway, and my mommy-mobile doesn’t have the same zero-to-sixty pick-up as Jack’s Lamborghini. The decision for me to drive also makes sense, since he may have to be running like hell carrying a shoulder-launched missile, and won’t have time to fumble for his keys.

His decision to play Twenty-one Questions may be one he regrets, should we crash.

To ensure we don’t, I hold tight to the steering wheel and keep my eyes straight ahead. Not because he’s shocked me, but because I’d hate for him to see that my face has turned candy apple red.

“Let’s just say I was old enough.”

“Come on, answer the question honestly.”

“Will you do the same?”

“Absolutely. Cross my heart.”

I sigh. “Okay. I was fifteen. And yes, the boy broke my heart.”

He laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was worried you hadn’t been kissed until college.”

“You take too much stock in what Aunt Phyllis says. She’s under the impression I was as pure as driven snow until Carl and I… well, until I was married.”

“So Carl wasn’t your first either?” He’s trying so hard to act nonchalant.

"To be perfectly honest, he wasn't my first. He wasn't even my 'best'."

Jack’s sly smile presumes
soooo
much. But in a flash, his smile is gone.

“At this juncture in our relationship, I think I need to tell you… Oh never mind.”

I guess this is where I hear some soul-searching blather about Valentina. I brace myself for the worst. “Don’t be such a tease. Just come out and say it.”

“I don’t know if you want to hear this.”

“Well, guess what? You won’t know if you don’t tell me, so spit it out.”

“I love you.”

I take a deep breath. “Ditto.”

He laughs. “Well, that’s romantic.”

“Let’s save the romance until after we save the world, shall we?”

“I’m glad one of us has our priorities in order.” He stares out the window. It’s already dark, so there is not much to look at. “Then I guess this is also a bad time to ask you to marry me.”

I screech off onto the shoulder of the road, and turn off the engine. As much as I like having a thousand horsepower engine at my fingertips, I’d be disappointed if a knee-jerk reaction came between me and my happily ever after.

“You now have my complete attention,” I murmur sweetly.

“I’m asking if you’ll marry me.” He picks up my hand. When his fingers wrap around mine, I wonder why I’d ever let go.

Then the answer hits me—to get to our final destination in one piece.

“Why now, Jack? And why here?”

“Why not?” He turns to face me, but his features are hidden in shadows, only revealing themselves in the fleeting headlights of passing cars. “There will always be some crisis to overcome. Some more…
bullshit
, somewhere in the world.”

Some bad guys to kill. Some long-buried secret to rear its ugly head.

Some deserting spouse to confront.

Which reminds me, “We’re both still married.”

He shrugs. “So let’s go to Vegas and set things straight.”

He makes me laugh. “I like the Bellagio.” I look down into my lap. “I guess you’re over Valentina in a big way.”

He doesn’t nod. He just looks straight ahead.

His silence speaks volumes.

If only he’d lied and said, “Yes, of course I am! What do you take me for, a fool?”

But no, I’m the fool. For presuming he’s over her, just because she’s over him.

“When she saw me, she told me Carl wasn’t in love with her. That he was still in love with me.” I can’t help myself. I have to say it to him, to see if it makes a difference to him.

His mouth tightens. “Do you believe her?”

“What, about Carl? Ha! You said it best. The only one Carl truly loves is himself, and the power he’s able to grab from who knows where.”

“Then, why won’t he leave you alone?”

“Because he can’t have me. Because I love you instead.”

There. I’ve said it.

I restart the engine and it roars back to life. “We’ve got a date with a stolen missile. Let’s do this,” I say as Jack’s Lamborghini leaps back onto the road.

We drive the remaining few miles in silence.

Is it enough for him to truly love me back? Or now, having been told Valentina never really had Carl’s affections, will he try to win her back?

I know I’ll have to wait for his answer.

“We’re here,” he murmurs.

So we are
, I think coming out of my fog.

Saved by the bomb.

I pull into the far side of the parking lot, out of view from the reception area, where the security guard is parked in front of an old big screen TV that must have been confiscated from an abandoned storage unit.

“Break a leg,” I say as he climbs out of the car.

He shuts the car door before he hears me whisper, “And yes, I’ll marry you.”

Maybe it’s for the best. Let’s face it. My answer doesn’t count if he’s already changed his mind.

 

 

In life, just about everything is timing.

If I hadn’t been at a certain shooting range on a certain Spring break during college, I would have never met Carl.

If I hadn’t been in the bedroom to answer his cell while he was in the shower one day, I would not have set into motion the chain of events that would have made him realize he needed to disappear from the life we’d created together.

If Acme hadn’t been looking for a few honeypots right about the time they yanked Carl’s pension from me, I would’ve taken a job as an assistant at a bank, or made time to be a class mom, instead of collecting a rogue’s gallery of scalps on my belt.

And if Jack hadn’t brought Carl home with him after one mission went awry, Valentina would never have fallen in love with Carl, and left Jack for him.

None of this I regret. Because if none of it had happened, I would have never have met Jack.

What I do regret, however, as Safe & Sound’s Storage Unit Number 121 blows off the back wing of the building, is that Jack never heard me say “Yes” when he asked me to marry him.

I run past the security guard, who stumbles out of the building in a total state of shock and denial. Deadly blasts are way above his pay scale of fourteen dollars an hour.

“Where is the man who just went in there?” I shout at him “Did he make it out?”

He shakes his head and cups his ear, to indicate he hasn’t heard a word I’ve said.

I pull him far away from the debris field, which is scattered far and wide. Coats and dresses and pants float through the air like cloth clouds, while bed frames pinwheel through the parking lot. Family photos float down from the night sky in a storm of confetti.

People hold onto too much crap.

If something is important in your life, you’ll make room for it.

I hear ambulances in the distance, heading this way. I don’t have much time if I’m going to find Jack. What if he’s injured and can’t get out by himself?

I run into the building and down the main hall, but I can’t see which way to turn because the smoke pouring out is too thick, and worse, smells like melted plastic. I can’t breathe. My lungs are on fire.

I’m crazy to think Jack has survived the explosion.

As I pass out, the only thing I can think of is how I wish I’d been with Jack at the very end.

 

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