Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 28-30: Cozy Mystery by Addison Moore (books for 7th graders .txt) 📗

Soon they’re lowered all the way to the floor and begin to regale the crowd with the bawdy sway of their hips. They pull off their belts and lose the oversized robes, only to leave a row of bare-chested men with nothing but red pants and boots on. Their faux beards and pointed holiday hats are still in place. I can’t help but avert my eyes at the entire scene. No wonder Cormack and Cressida dragged me out here. This raunchy Santa routine is just their speed.

One of the broad-chested Santas holds up a mic. “Things are heating up here at the North Pole. We’re going to need a couple of lovely ladies to help us cool off. Any volunteers from the—”

Before he can finish, Carlotta scrambles up on stage. And while a jolly laugh circles the room at the sight of her, both Cormack and Cressida land me in the heated spotlight myself.

“Ugh.” I dust myself off after the two of them hand me off to one of the beefy Santas. And now that I’m up close and personal, I can see the man’s chest glistening with oil. He’s got washboard abs and a devilish gleam in his eyes, but believe me, I’ve seen better in both Noah and Everett. Besides, according to Everett’s body, a six-pack is for amateurs.

The music grows bawdier by the minute, and the Santa in question is spinning me to the rhythm while shimmying his body up and down mine as if I were a pole. Suddenly, each Santa on stage has a woman to call his own, and soon we’re standing in a line while the Santas before us do a few dirty dance moves in our honor.

“This is the life, Lot,” Carlotta says with her eyes glued to the naughty Santa before her. “Once I took a gander at this place, I knew we were in for a Christmas miracle.”

“More like the nightmare before Christmas.”

A group of women dressed as elves bring out four barstools, and the Santas dance us over to them before taking a seat and turning us over on their laps. And as my personal Santa pretends to use my bottom as a toy drum, I spot Cormack and Cressida snapping away pictures with their phones.

Great. It looks as if I’ll have some explaining to do when I get home tonight. It wouldn’t shock me at all if they were shooting those pictures off to Noah and Everett in real time.

Kringle takes the stage and does a little dance himself, and as the crowd goes wild, he turns and shakes his bouncing booty at them—okay, so it’s probably not him they’re responding to, but the timing was perfect. I have to admit, the little spook has style.

Soon, I’m upright again and the Santa holding me hostage takes my hands and places them over his hips.

“Oh no,” I say. “I’m sorry. I’m a happily married woman,” I wail, but my protests fall upon deaf ears as the music only seems to get louder and the crowd that much more volatile. I glance around to see the other women in full compliance as they help strip the pants off their Santas, but the only thing I want to remove is myself from this stage.

I try to circle around him, but he blocks my path, much to the delight of the crowd. I go left then right, and he meets me at every move. Kringle hops past me, headed to the back of the stage, so I follow his lead. There’s a backstage area, which practically highlights itself as an escape route. I turn to bolt and my shoe gets caught in a loop attached to one of the thick red cables, and like a bear caught in a trap the tiny noose tightens around my ankle at record speeds as I go flying twenty feet in the air like a hot air balloon.

A burst of laughter fills the room, but I don’t find a single thing funny. In fact, I scream my head off with my arms and my free leg flailing in a panic.

“Lemon,” I hear that familiar thundering of my surname, and I look down to see Everett Baxter looking up at me in horror.

All four nearly naked Santas mobilize, and soon I’m being lowered until I land safely in my husband’s strong arms.

“Everett, I can explain,” I say as I shake my head, because truthfully I really can’t.

Noah bursts onto the stage, and it all feels a bit surreal at this point.

Everett doesn’t say a word; he simply speeds us out of there, and soon the three of us—four if you count Carlotta—are standing outside of the luxury hotel just under the awning that protects us from the falling snow.

Noah’s eyes are filled with fire. “Are you freaking nuts?” His jaws clench as he barks the words out.

Typically, that line is reserved for Carlotta, but seeing that he’s looking right at me, and the dicey circumstances I’ve just escaped, I realize those words were indeed meant for me.

“How did the two of you get here so fast?” I ask as I adjust my dress as Everett sets me down.

Everett folds his arms across his chest. “Noah and I put a tracking device on your car.”

Noah nods. “I put one on yours, too, Carlotta.”

Carlotta blows on her hands to keep them warm. “I feel safer already.”

“I don’t,” I say. “Neither of you bothered to talk to me about this.” Never mind the fact Noah had one on the last car I owned.

Everett’s chin dips down as he pierces me with those stormy eyes. “He did it last night. I didn’t realize he was going to do it before we had a chance to bring it up to you. But now I’m glad he didn’t wait.”

Cormack and Cressida run out of the hotel, already chirping after Noah and Everett.

“Big Boss!” Cormack shrieks. “Did you get my message? Did you see