She ran her fingers across the lace, beads, and crystals, her smile worth every call he’d made. Every favor he’d called in to get it to Duluth and back for cleaning to remove the musty odor.
“I can’t even imagine how you did this.” She took a step back, tapped her finger to her lips. “Oh— What if it doesn’t fit me?”
“Oh, it will fit.” He laughed. “Kate had all your measurements. It only took a few adjustments, she said—and she found a little surprise inside.”
“Another surprise?”
“Can you handle that?” His heart pounded in his chest. Vivien was going to freak, in the most wonderful, delightful way.
He lifted the train, followed the seam up, just like Kate had shown him. “Take a look.”
Vivien stared at the label. Looked at Boone. Looked back at the label. Her jaw went slack.
“Is that…real?” She pointed to the handsewn label, the name Margaret VanEaton written in cursive appliqué.
“Kate assures me it is.”
A shriek. A squeal. A jump in the air. “This is incredible. Thank you.” She threw her arms around him, making little sobs as she sucked in air. “You know, I was really ready to go for the burlap.”
“And you would have been a beautiful sight in that, as well.” He kissed her, inhaling the jasmine, letting his lips linger until he drew way, took a breath. “I told you, all that matters is that we’re legally married.”
“Two days. Just two more days.”
He pointed to the doorway. “Shall we see how everything else is coming along?”
She let out a little sigh. “Do we dare?”
He wove his fingers into hers. “We’re up for it. We make a great team.”
Vivien smiled and stepped up to him. “We do. All this makes me think everything will be perfect.” She nodded her head toward the dress. Laughed. “But that’s going home with me. I’m not letting it out of my sight.”
“I’m with you on that.” And he drew her into a kiss. It tasted distinctly of love, promise, and tomorrows.
Oh yeah. Luckiest man on the planet.
Boone’s phone buzzed, and Vivien’s lips curved against his in a grin. “Hmmm…” Her voice teased. “Who could it be now? The butcher? The baker? The candlestick maker?”
“I don’t have to answer that,” he said. “I don’t even care who it is.” He stole another kiss. “I could turn it off. Maybe accidently drop it into an ice fishing hole.”
Her laugh warmed his cheek. Rich and musical. “Oh, hon, answer it.” She cupped his face in her hands, her eyes lit with delight and mischief when he lifted the phone without even looking at the caller ID. Just drank in the incredible connection between them.
He winked at Vivien before forcing his eyes to his phone.
“It’s just a text.” Huh. “From Peter.”
“Tell him we’re not looking for any more costumes.” Vivien gave Boone a playful nudge.
He tapped the message.
There’s a problem with your Mustang.
Dedicated to the memory of Angela Marie Sass, 1981-2000
You brought so much joy in your lifetime!
I'm so grateful for the years we had, Sis.
CHAPTER 1
TUESDAY, 10:17 A.M.
Detective Duke Lowry hated Christmas. What was merry about the season of an uptick in theft, crime, and a pile of work dealing with the darkest parts of humanity? And now out of all 365 days of the year he could pick, his former partner decided to get hitched on Christmas Eve and make Duke the best man.
He thought Boone Buckam had better sense.
Still, he couldn’t say no to the man who’d saved his life on an investigation gone wrong. Even if the holiday was a reminder of the worst mistake of his life, Duke would use his PTO, drive over five hundred miles round trip, and do whatever Boone needed for the next five days.
Duffel bag? Check. Extra charger? In the bag. Security alarm set? Yep. Passenger? Not yet—but her flight was due to arrive in the next hour, so he still had time.
He stepped out of his cottage with the keys to the sparkling white F-150 truck already warmed and running in his driveway. If he had to make the five-hour trek to Deep Haven in a snowstorm, at least he and his passenger would be comfortable and safe.
But as he looked up, he clenched his keys tight enough to leave marks on his palm.
Not again.
A big inflatable Santa-in-an-outhouse display lay tipped over in his lawn. A long evergreen garland stretched across the snow from the neighbor’s house to his front yard.
Bad enough he had to see the tacky display every time he stepped out the door. Now this? The least his neighbor could do was to stake it down properly.
Still, Mrs. Murphy, at the young age of eighty-two, shouldn’t be the one out in the storm staking down the ridiculous thing her grandson insisted on putting out in her yard. Duke grunted as he dragged it back over to her lawn, plucked his hammer from his truck toolbox, and set it back up. As he stood in calf-high drifts pounding in the last stake, falling snowflakes flew in his face and snow soaked through his pants and socks.
He hated wet socks.
He glanced at his watch. Not that he had time to change now. He would be cutting it close, but he could still get to the airport in time.
If Christmas didn’t sabotage him again.
He stowed the hammer away, hopped in his truck, and hit the road.
As Boone’s best man, he was all for supporting his former partner’s upcoming nuptials, but why in the world did he want to get married on Christmas Eve?
It was probably Vivien’s idea. And Boone did anything these days to make his fiancée happy. He said he’d finally found the right girl in the right place.
The right girl. What a myth. Or maybe it was only truth for guys like Boone. He deserved all the happiness in the world. Duke, on the other hand, was meant to live this life alone, and he’d come to terms with it.
He sped up onto the I-494 ramp. The next five days weren’t about him, though. Duke would stand up for Boone and be there to make sure things went off without a problem. So, as long as everyone kept their Christmas cheer to themselves for the next week, he’d be fine.
And yeah, he liked Vivien, but he’d been blindsided by beauty before. So if Boone needed an escape or a quick getaway, Duke should scope things out and be prepared with an exit plan. That’s what partners were for. Even ex-partners.
He had to take his foot off the gas as he traced the long line of bright brake lights at a dead stop in front of him.
Aw, great. Holiday traffic. He let out a deep sigh and used his voice-activated system to call Boone.
He answered after the second ring. “Duke, my man. What’s up. Is Zuri there too? Her plane is landing soon, isn’t it?”
The guy was way too chipper.
“I’m on my way, but I’m stuck in traffic on 494. I asked Vivien earlier for Zuri’s contact info, but I never heard back from her.”
“Yeah, she’s been a little preoccupied.”
Whatever else Boone said was lost as Duke zeroed in on something red moving alongside the cars lined up behind a stoplight on a frontage road parallel to the interstate. “What in the world…”