Wicked Season (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 7) Read online

  Wicked Season

  An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book Seven

  Lily Harper Hart

  HarperHart Publications

  Contents

  Copyright

  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

  22. Twenty-Two

  23. Twenty-Three

  Mail List

  Acknowledgments

  Books by Lily Harper Hart

  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

  One

  “I love you.”

  Jack Harker lowered the magazine he was reading and shifted his eyes to the couch where Ivy Morgan sat. Her long brown hair, the streaks of pink highlighted to perfection thanks to the setting sun filtering through the window, hung past her shoulders and her blue eyes sparkled.

  “I love you, too,” Jack said, smirking. They’d only been saying the words to one another for a few weeks. They’d turned it into something of a game. Jack found it a bit schmaltzy, but he was so happy that he didn’t care how he looked to outside attention. She made him happy, content even. She was a big ball of energy with a snarky mouth and a temper to match the hair, but he couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. “Now read your book and stop distracting me.”

  Jack turned back to the magazine even though he wasn’t really interested in the latest new releases in fishing equipment and watched Ivy’s mannerisms out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t seem upset at his order, although if she were angry he would know soon enough.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

  Jack smirked as he turned away from the magazine for the second time. They were in her house, a fire roaring as a chilly wind beat against the outside windows. He had his own rental home, of course, but he was rarely there. He much preferred the cozy atmosphere of Ivy’s abode. He also abhorred the notion of staying away from her for the night so he was perfectly comfortable where he was.

  “What else do you want me to say?”

  Ivy shrugged as she discarded the herbal book she was perusing a few minutes before on the couch and got to her feet. It was cold and yet she still wore an ankle-length skirt without socks. She had an aversion to hot feet. That’s all Jack could figure because even when it was freezing at night she always managed to poke her bare feet out from the covers. He spent months covering them back up before realizing it was a lost cause and abandoning the mission.

  “I thought you might want to tell me that I’m the prettiest woman in the world and you can’t imagine living a day without me,” Ivy teased, grabbing the magazine and dropping it on the coffee table before sliding onto his lap and curling so she could rest her head on his chest. “I thought you might also want to throw in that I’m the best cook and an absolute marvel in the bedroom.”

  Jack barked out a laugh, genuinely amused. He loved Ivy beyond reason. When he first moved to Shadow Lake, the former Detroit police officer had no intention of getting involved in a relationship. That lasted exactly five minutes into his first day – when he and his partner Brian Nixon were called to check out a body in a ditch – and he got his first glance of Ivy Morgan. She’d been barefoot that day, too. The weather had been much better, though. He would never forget that first look at her. It was seared into his brain.

  “I see someone is fishing for compliments,” Jack said, rubbing his nose across her soft skin. She ran a tree and plant nursery during the spring, summer, and fall months and then spent winters occasionally doing things in her greenhouse but otherwise making lotions and soaps to sell on the side. She had a bohemian flair he adored. She wasn’t conventional, and for a man who was fleeing the constraints of a “normal” world, she offered a breath of fresh air in an otherwise stale environment.

  “I am not fishing for compliments,” Ivy countered. “I am simply stating the obvious – which you should be stating. I guess you could say that I’m trying to remind you of the obvious.”

  Jack snickered, delighted. “Ah. Well, I’m glad you reminded me of that.” He pressed a kiss to the tender spot behind her ear. “You are the loveliest woman I’ve ever met – real or imagined – so I would hate to think I’m not telling you that often enough.”

  “Do you imagine a lot of women?”

  Jack’s smile slipped at the question. “You always have to pick the one thing out of a statement that could possibly lead to a fight, don’t you?”

  “Maybe I just like making up. Have you ever considered that?”

  “Only every day we’re together.” Jack sighed as he ran his hand over the back of Ivy’s neck, moving his eyes to the natural wood ceiling. He could hear the wind whistling outside, and even though it had yet to snow, he was bracing himself for the inevitable. “I should probably get more wood from the pile behind the cottage. It’s going to be dark soon. I always forget how soon night comes in Michigan in the fall.”

  “Yeah, it’s kind of a bummer,” Ivy said, her eyes drifting toward the window. “We’ll probably get our first snow soon. It won’t be a big one, though. Just enough for you and I to go on that nature walk you promised me.”

  Jack fought the urge to roll his eyes. He liked the outdoors as much as the next man. He was a fan of fishing and hiking. He simply preferred conducting outdoor activities in months when he wouldn’t risk losing a toe to frostbite. “What is it with you and snow? I’ve never met a woman who loves snow as much as you.”

  “It’s not that I love snow,” Ivy replied. “I love the first snow, don’t get me wrong, but once Christmas is over I’ll be a complaining maniac because I hate the snow. You should prepare yourself.”

  Jack chuckled. “I love that you are willing to name your faults just as much as your strengths. Most women wouldn’t be thrilled at the prospect of doing that.”

  “I’m not most women.”

  “You’re definitely not.” Jack tickled her ribs as she giggled, marveling at the way her body melded to his in the perfect spots. He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, enjoying the way her lips enthusiastically returned the affection he sent her way. He’d just about discarded the notion of getting more wood – they could keep each other warm, after all – when Ivy’s cell phone rang and ruined the moment.

  “Ugh.” Ivy made a horrified groan when she saw her mother’s name pop up on the screen. “She’s going to want to talk about Thanksgiving dinner again. I think she’s trying to kill me with mundane details.”

  Jack laughed as he pushed her to a standing position and followed suit, fondly patting her rear end before sliding around her to grab his coat from the back of the couch. “It’s perfect timing,” he said. “You can talk to your mother and I’ll grab extra wood for tonight.”

  “I had other plans,” Ivy muttered, reaching for the phone.

  “We’ll get to your other plans,” Jack whispered, teasing the ridge of her ear with his tongue. “You need to deal
with your mother first, though.”

  “That’s just mean.”

  Jack smiled, his life seemingly perfect. “That’s how I roll.”

  “I’M PRETTY sure that women in my family go crazy the second they turn fifty,” Ivy announced ten minutes later as Jack walked through the back door with a load of wood, her earlier good mood completely eradicated. “There can be no other explanation for this madness.”

  Jack, used to Ivy’s theatrics, merely arched an eyebrow as he carried the metal bucket containing the wood to the brick hearth.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  When Jack risked a glance at Ivy he found her standing four feet away with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “Nope.”

  “Nope?”

  “That’s what I said.” Jack shrugged out of his coat and offered his girlfriend a placid smile. “Nope.”

  “Jack, I’m being serious.” Ivy knit her eyebrows together as he kicked off his boots and settled in the chair he vacated a few minutes before. “Why aren’t you listening to me?”

  “Honey, I listen to you every chance I get,” Jack replied. “You’re clearly in your own little world right now, though. I’m kind of used to the drill and no matter what anyone says, I’m not a glutton for punishment.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Jack smirked. “It simply means that you’ve been fighting with your mother and aunt for days about the Thanksgiving dinner preparations. For some reason – and I’ve yet to figure out why because I’ve never seen anything like it – you get deranged after every single phone call you accept from them. It’s like magic … and not the good kind we play at every night when we go to bed.”

  Ivy’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t say filthy things like that at Thanksgiving dinner. My father will thump you … and my brother will hold you down and let him.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “I was talking about those dreams we share, not the other stuff.”

  “Oh.” Ivy was momentarily placated. Of course he was talking about the dream walking. He wasn’t known for being overly crude without a reason. “Well, I guess that’s better.”

  “Now who has the filthy mind?” Jack asked, flicking Ivy between the eyebrows before snagging her around the waist and pulling her to his lap. “I think you have the filthiest mind out of the two of us, missy.”

  Ivy was agitated but not blind to Jack’s charms. “You think you’re a funny guy, don’t you?”

  “I think I’m a man who loves a complicated woman,” Jack clarified. “I do the best I can under shifting circumstances. This Thanksgiving dinner freakout is a new one for me. I’m not quite sure how to deal with the madness.”

  Ivy heaved out a sigh as she rested her head against his shoulder. “It only happens around the holidays,” she explained. “To be precise, it only happens around this holiday now. My parents won’t be here for Christmas. They leave the Monday after Thanksgiving and head to Florida until spring.”

  “I remember. You already told me that.” Jack, secretly conflicted about Luna and Michael Morgan’s travel plans, forced himself to remain calm. He liked both of them a great deal. He liked that they loved their daughter and checked to make sure she was okay on a regular basis. He also liked the idea of having five months with Ivy where he didn’t have to constantly look over his shoulder to see if they were watching. Sometimes Jack was certain that Michael could read his mind, and the police detective didn’t always have pure thoughts when it came to the Morgan daughter.

  “So it used to be that Christmas was the big meal that Mom and Aunt Felicity freaked out about,” Ivy explained. “Now that they’re not here for Christmas it’s shifted to Thanksgiving. They fight about everything. It’s kind of like a family tradition. They also insist on dragging me into it.”

  “You could not answer your phone.”

  Ivy pursed her lips. “I’ve never really considered that. It seems somehow rude.”

  “And we both know you’re not rude,” Jack teased, tickling her ribs. He didn’t let up until he cajoled a smile out of her. “I don’t know what to tell you, honey. I’ve never dealt with crazy women like this.”

  “Your mom never went all out for family meals?”

  “In the big city you can order full meals and pick them up on the day of the feast,” Jack replied, adopting a hokey accent. “It saves on muss, fuss, and family fights.”

  “That doesn’t sound very tasty.”

  “Well, I always thought the meals were fine until I tasted your cooking. Now I know your food is going to be so much better so it really is one of those things I can’t make judgment about until I have something to compare.”

  “You can always make judgment.”

  “Well, I’m not doing it this time,” Jack said, rubbing his cheek against hers. “I am thankful I don’t have to put up with the family shenanigans, though. Now that you mention it, my mother and sister fight more than normal when a holiday approaches. I’m not going to miss that this year.”

  Ivy shifted her eyes to his, her expression unreadable. “I never thought about that. Is your mother upset you won’t be home for Thanksgiving?”

  Jack shrugged. “She wasn’t happy, but she’ll live.”

  Ivy chewed on her bottom lip, conflicted. Jack left the Detroit area after taking two bullets to the chest from his own partner. He wanted a quiet life after surviving injuries he had no business surviving. Ivy often forgot he left another life behind when he fled the city.

  “We could go down there,” she offered. “We could go down and have Thanksgiving dinner with your family. My mom won’t be happy about it, but she’ll have to suck it up. She can’t control everything.”

  “No, I’ve already told my mother I won’t be down for Thanksgiving,” Jack said. “She’s ticked but … well, that’s the way of the world. I told her Christmas was still up for discussion, but if I’m being truthful, the idea of being in the city and away from Shadow Lake for Christmas makes me feel sick to my stomach.”

  “What will you tell her?”

  “I’ll tell her I have to work. That’s not really a lie. I’m the new guy on the force so I get the worst shifts.”

  Ivy made a face. “You know darned well Brian isn’t going to make you work Christmas day.”

  “I do know that. My mother doesn’t, though.”

  Ivy rubbed her chin as she considered the conundrum. “Do you want to know what’s really funny? We’re two people who love to fight, but we’re both afraid of our mothers so we either lie or bite our tongues until we get off the phone and wait to vent until we’re sure they can’t hear us.”

  Jack snorted. “I never thought of that. I do like to fight … but only with you.”

  “That’s because you like to make up.”

  “You’ve got me there,” Jack said, shifting Ivy so she was facing him. He ran his thumb over her cheek and stared into her eyes. “Do you want to fight first or just go straight to the making up?”

  Ivy smiled at his earnest expression. “Make up.”

  “You read my mind.” Jack captured her bottom lip with his teeth and smacked a kiss against her lips. “I love you.”

  Ivy’s sea-blue eyes widened. “I love you, too.”

  Two

  “You two are so sickly sweet it makes me want to puke … and then punch somebody … and then puke again.”

  Max Morgan sipped his coffee the next morning and glared at Jack and Ivy as they got comfortable in the diner booth across the table. He was older than Ivy – and took his role as big brother very seriously – but even he couldn’t help but enjoy the way Jack and Ivy were together. That didn’t mean he would ignore a chance to tease them when it arose.

  “You’ll live,” Ivy said dryly, rubbing her hands together. “It’s cold out. It feels like snow and yet it hasn’t snowed yet. It’s so weird.”

  “Yes, totally weird,” Max intoned, rolling his eyes when Jack took Ivy’s hands and warmed them between his much bigg
er mitts. “Seriously? I want to punch you right now because you make all other men look bad. You know that, right?”

  Jack shrugged, noncommittal. “You’ll live.”

  “Whatever.” Max rolled his neck until it cracked and waited while the waitress collected Ivy and Jack’s breakfast orders before continuing. “I’m surprised you guys even left the house. I thought you were off for a few days, Jack. Did you mention something about wanting a fire, Ivy, and nothing else? I wanted to punch you that day, too, by the way.”

  Jack ignored the sarcasm as he slung his arm around the back of Ivy’s seat and fixed Max with a pointed look. “Your sister is hungry and I’m tired of carrying wood into the house.”

  Max snorted. “That is a pain, isn’t it? I’ll bet you didn’t envision all that work when you pictured curling up next to the fire with nothing but a blanket and my sister, did you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Nope?”

  “That’s what he says when he doesn’t want to get into a fight,” Ivy explained, patting Jack’s knee under the table. “He’s a master at deflecting.”

  “Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Jack scoffed. “What do I deflect?”

  “Do you remember when we saw that woman at the community pool over in Bellaire in September and she was wearing that bikini that didn’t cover anything?”

  “I’m pretty sure I can’t recall anything of the sort.”

  Ivy narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits. “The bikini was purple with little yellow flowers and the top was made of triangles so tiny they wouldn’t even have covered my toes.”

  “Oh, that woman.” Jack smirked. “I remember seeing her. I wasn’t staring for the reason you think, though. I was going to arrest her for public lewdness. That entire thing was a travesty.”

  Ivy rolled her eyes as Max did a miserable job at swallowing his chuckle. “You’re not fooling anybody. I pointed out that you were staring that day and do you know what you said?”