“You see what happens when you get slick with U.S. Marshalls.” Quinton slid the driver’s license across the black granite island.

Kiara slapped a gloved hand on the plastic card before it descended to the stone floor that chilled the soles of her sock covered feet having her contemplate the no shoes or in her case no snow boots in the house rule. “Shut the hell up.” She hissed.

Kiara glared at the I.D. with utter disgust. The picture, one she took pride in after suffering years of awful shots at the DMV didn’t lift her mood being that the moniker that accompanied it was Elsa J. Cane. She didn’t know what the J stood for nor did she know who that person was. Which was why she was in a cabin on the outskirts of town with a man she only met once in person.

“This could be a beautiful thing.” Quinton proclaimed folding his arms across that expansive chest she fantasized about falling asleep on mere days ago when her life was ordinary. Now, she cursed the day she complained about her life being humdrum boring two months ago. She would sell her entire collection of Telfar, Fenty, and Fe Noel for the predictable routine of work, home, brunch on weekends, and the basic upkept of her townhouse new Hermann Park.

She eyed him with befuddlement, “Besides that murder.”

“Yeah, that sucks for him but for us…” He gestured between them. “We are safe until they catch the guy.”

Kiara sighed as more snow begun falling remembering the events from last night. The Saturday started off promising. She buzzed with excitement knowing she was finally going to share the same space with the man that made her kick up her feet and giggle at a text, the man who Face Timed her while he cooked dinner which was one of the reasons she forewent hitting up DoorDash and started putting in a little work in the kitchen even though baking was her specialty. She was feeling so good by the time evening hit and Quinton arrived at the Art Musuem for the annual Christmas party she contemplated getting some scratch offs.

The festivity set up by a deep pocket board member that always got their way, that stopped being the case last night, was a tedious task she loathed to endure. She loved art but being around people the waltzed passed canvasses as if they were just Christmas tree ornaments or hoarded art for bragging purposes made her gag. Yes, she had some traits of an art snob but she was also a lover of culture and history and believed everyone had the right to behold the beauty created by artist and paint or photographer and camera. What she didn’t believe in was her playing host for wannabe millionaires and old money trust fund babies but she had student loans she had to reluctantly pay off so that was what she did.

But Quinton made it better. When he appeared in the lobby with his blue suit and Santa hat she knew it was going to be night of heart flutters. What she didn’t expect was having one of those flutters from seeing a person shot in cold-blood; by an elf nonetheless.

“You really think they’re going to catch this elf in four days.” She folded her arms trying to conceal her body heat as the heater and fireplace warmed up to kick Jack Frost from the premises. “He’s killed eight people over two Christmases; five which were home invasions and stolen priceless works of art totaling half a billion and he’s always in costume.”

He shrugged, his happy demeanor faltering, “All we can do is trust the Marshalls. They said they caught his face on camera this time and they know what piece he’ll go after next to close out this season.”

“Maxwell Whitmore’s ‘A Ballad for Noelle’.” She informed the art dilettante as he poured steaming coffee into a pair of mugs. The only time she saw the artist’s creation that detailed trilogy of Christmases he’d wouldn’t be able to witness after his daughter succumbed to Leukemia at a young age. She wished the piece hung in a museum but as she was enlightened by Marshall Sanders it was hanging in someone’s estate in Miami, which was why they were freezing in Mistletoe, Colorado away from the mayhem and sting operation that was under way.

Quinton headed her the coffee after stirring in the teaspoon of brown sugar splash of creamer like she told him she liked on the second FaceTime session. “I’m going to go warm up the car so we can explore the town.”

“Explore?” She questioned ignoring the call of caffeine. “We’re supposed to be laying low and not drawing attention to ourselves.”

Quinton swallowed then said, “We have zero decorations. Not even a nutcracker on the porch. We’re drawing more attention to ourselves being the only dark house in Christmas Town USA. Plus, we need food. We might as well get it now before this snow traps us in.”

She slowly sipped her coffee knowing he made sense. He always did that why she was falling in like with him since they first match on the app. Having a companion that could critical think was an aphrodisiac.

“Fine.” She let out a heavy breath. “But what’s our story if we run into people.”

“We’re newlyweds. Just recently married on our honeymoon enjoying a quiet, romantic Christmas and creating our own traditions away from the family that drove us crazy all year leading up to the wedding.”

“Wow.” She leaned back. “That’s good but…” She held up her left hand. “We don’t have rings.”

“I got that covered.” He affirmed rushing out of the kitchen only to come back a handful of seconds with a velvet box.

She had several questions but they all vanquished from her mind when her lowered to one knee in front of her and asked, “Will you be my fake wife?”

“Get up.” She gestured for him to rise with a shake of her head and awkward laughter bubbling within.

“Not until you answer me, Mrs. Cane.” His smirk grew as went from playful to serious.

Kiara studied the gold band and flawless cut diamond doing marriage was never something she wanted what was the hard in playing make believe especially if your survival depended on it. “I’ll be your fake wife. Now stop playing around.”

She reached from the ring and he swatted her hand away. “Don’t do that. I got his.” He said before sliding the ring on her finger that fit perfectly. He rose to his feet and peered down at her lips first then her eyes. “I feel like we should kiss to seal the deal.”

“A handshake will do.” She ascertained, holding out her hand knowing a kiss would lead to more intimate positions with all the adrenaline still pumping through her body. She hadn’t even been able to sleep in thirty-eight hours.

“For now,” He said caressing her hand eyeing her poignantly before lifting her hand to his lips and gently kissing her palm.

She knew he was accurate as she watched him retreat from the kitchen to warm up the car. A second kiss was in their future, she just hoped it wouldn’t be their last there was a murderous elf on the loose that knew how they looked.