Elf Against the Wall: A Holiday Romantic Comedy (The Wynter Brothers Book 2)
Elf Against the Wall: Chapter 17

I shouldn’t bait Evie.

There was no reason for it.

Shouldn’t even bother helping her clear her name.

I just needed to string her along and make her think I was going to help her prove to her family that her ex was a lying scumbag.

I needed to keep my emotions out of it. That was how I’d screwed myself over the last time.

Baseball cap low on my head, I hustled into the Christmas market, losing myself in the crowd then ducking behind a stall to change jacket and hat.

Adjusting my gait, I walked back out to meld into the crowd again.

Overkill? Maybe, but I’d just been in Evie’s cousin’s house to hunt down a final piece of evidence, a whole backed-up treasure trove of chat app messages sent to her by her boss, that spelled out that the company lost money not from a hacking attempt but instead because the boss let her twelve-year-old into the office because she didn’t have a babysitter. The kid had plugged her sketchy label printer into one of the company computers, compromising the entire system.

It wasn’t as much damage as I needed to clear off the ledger, but it was a good chunk. Every bit counted.

I just had to kill time until tonight, when I would make contact with Aaron and hand over the files.

I walked through the crowded Christmas market, feeling like I was Scrooge from that Charles Dickens story, observing the townspeople going about the holiday but not really experiencing it. They all looked so happy, so joyous as they examined the wares of the stalls, greeted friends and neighbors, and drank their holiday drinks.

Maybe I’d just head down to New York City early, crash at Hudson’s place there. Get away from this oppressive holiday.

There was one person, though, in the Christmas market who, ironically, didn’t exhibit a deranged level of holiday cheer.

Evie was slumped on a bench next to a man in an inflatable Rudolph costume trying to foist free samples of something called Reindeer Ribbon on people.

“You look like you eat protein, bro,” the reindeer said, shaking what looked like individually wrapped jerky at me.

“Don’t eat it,” Evie told me dejectedly. “His sister bakes the jerky in their kitchen. None of it’s licensed.”

“Why don’t you take his job?” I suggested.

“They aren’t hiring. I already asked. Anyway.” She stood up, brushing off her skirt. “I need to finish handing out résumés. I’ll leave you to your Christmas shopping.”

“I’m not Christmas shopping.”

“Just soaking up the holiday atmosphere, then?”

I kept pace with Evie as we headed through the Christmas market, dodging people carrying firewood, wrapped packages, and wreaths.

“Going old school, huh?” I nodded to the paper bundle in her arms.

“My parents don’t believe me when I tell them I’ve been applying for jobs online. They’re technically not that old, but they act like they were born in the 1930s. They’re all like, ‘You need to go meet the manager and hand them a résumé.’”

I plucked one of the résumés printed on cream-colored paper out of her hand.

“Evelyn Murphy. Let’s see, high school diploma, okay. Gaps in work history, a smidge of waitressing experience. Three-month stints as an office assistant.” I handed it back to her. “Gingersnap, no one is going to hire you with this. Why don’t you join the military?”

“You really want me running around with a gun?”

“On second thought…”

“Besides, I am not in shape enough for all that.”

“You’d look cute in the uniform and the hat.”

“Maybe I’ll have to steal your hat and try it on the next time I’m at your place,” she joked, her bag banging into my leg.

“Good luck. As soon as I got out, I collected my dishonorable discharge, doused my dress blues in gasoline, and lit it up.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I guess you would.”

“Why don’t you apply there?” I said, jerking my head toward a yarn store.

“There be dangerous waters. You really do like to live on the edge.”

I grabbed the door handle before she could, ushering her into the brightly lit store.

Evie’s eyes lit up like a kid’s on Christmas morning.

“I need all of it! Come home with me, my pretties!” Evie trailed her fingers along the soft yarn.

Snowball was eyeing a box of white yarn the color of her fur.

I scooped up the dog, tucking her under my arm and keeping my fingers away from her sharp teeth.

Evie didn’t have any money, and I didn’t need the scrutiny, which meant that I would be paying for any yarn Snowball ruined.

Evie thrust her bag and her résumés at me then picked up a shopping basket.

“You’re supposed to be applying for a job,” I reminded her.

“They are having a sale, Anderson.”

Into the basket went several bunches of Christmas tie-dye yarn.

“I saw these yarn Christmas trees on Pinterest, and I’ve been making them as gifts to give to people.”

“I think you’re past the age when you can give your friends and family handmade gifts.”

She stuck her tongue out at me. “You’re never too old to hand make a gift. Last year, I knitted Christmas tree ornaments. They were a big hit.”

“I didn’t see any of them on your mom’s tree.”

“Okay, so they were mostly a big hit,” she said defensively.

She rifled through the next bargain bin of yarn. I, of course, had to hold the basket through all of this.

“Here’s the good stuff.” She held up a pack of pale-gray yarn and tossed it into the basket.

“We have to go to this cute toy shop next,” she told me, excited, as we headed up to the cash register.

I set the basket down.

“Merry Christmas!” Evie chirped to the clerk.

“You got some good replaces.” The clerk, wearing what looked like a hand-knitted Christmas vest, rang up the purchases.

I cleared my throat pointedly.

“Right, um, are you all hiring at all?”

“Check back in January,” the clerk said brightly. “And we’ll definitely be hiring for the summer rush.”

“Will do!” Evie said with forced cheerfulness.

“That was something, at least,” I told Evie as we stepped out into the cold.

“I need a job in hand by Christmas,” she explained dejectedly.

I set Snowball down and took Evie’s shopping bag from her.

“I thought you said you were unemployed and broke,” I reminded her as we walked down the bustling sidewalk.

“I might be able to sell my holiday sweaters on Etsy.”

“I’m sure that was what your dad meant when he said he wanted you to make something of yourself.”

She fished in her bag of yarn for her purchases and held up the pale-gray yarn to my face.

“It matches your eyes. It’s a sign. I had to buy it.”

“You should just shave that dog and use her fur to make sweaters.”

Evie wrinkled her nose. “I had to do that when I first adopted her. I was living with a trust-fund girl who was slumming it for a year and wanted the full impoverished-artist experience. Rent was free, but the water pressure wasn’t high enough to get all the gunk out of her fur, so off it went. Snowball’s never forgiven me.”

“You didn’t want to take her back to the orphanage?” I asked, repeating her mom’s comment from the country club.

Evie looked down at the little dog.

“I’m Snowball’s last chance. I found her in one of those boxes of free stuff people put out on their brownstone steps. Her owner told me I could have her when I knocked on the door.”

I ducked under a low-hanging sign welcoming people to the historic Main Street for the holidays.

“When I tried to take her to a Pomeranian rescue, they refused and told me that she’d already burnt bridges at multiple adoption homes. She’s a biter,” Evie explained, twisting toward me then back. “She’s on her last chance.”

“So you’re trying to keep her off doggie death row. Guess I’ll keep the chunk of flesh you took out of my thumb between us, Snowball,” I said to the dog.

The Pomeranian was walking next to us, head on a swivel, alert for targets.

“If that dog was a German shepherd, she would have been unstoppable in combat,” I observed.

Snowball snapped at a snowflake in front of another colorful Main Street store.

“This place is so cute! I need to buy a toy for Reagan and Declan’s little baby.”

The chime above the door jingled as Evie and I entered the toy shop. It was like being transported back in time, to when things were simpler and my family still celebrated Christmas.

“That is an epic train set.” I couldn’t keep the wonder out of my voice as a miniature train chugged past me on its way to make a delivery at a tiny post office.

“You like trains!” Evie was gleeful. “The Grinch does have a heart.”

“It’s perfectly normal to like trains. Any red-blooded American male likes trains,” I argued. “Railroads built this country.”

“You’re like a little kid,” she gushed.

“These miniature trains are marvels of craftsmanship. Look at this.” I pointed as the train chugged into the station in front of the miniature mail depot. A hidden mechanism sprang, and a tiny bag of mail was thrown out of the train car onto the depot platform.

“Isn’t that amazing?” I asked her. “See, today, we’d just use a computer chip, but back then, it was all handcrafted mechanics, like those old Victorian windup toys. Impeccable craftsmanship.”

“You need to embrace your inner child and build a big model train set.” Her small hands rested on my chest for a moment.

“I can’t.” I turned away. “I don’t have time.”

“There’s always time for joy.”

“Isn’t that how you ended up broke, living at your parents’ house, and blackmailing a guy your mom hates, Gingersnap?”

She didn’t throw back a snide retort. “Life’s too short not to do things that make you happy.” She rested a hand on my arm. “You deserve to be happy.”

“I don’t.”

She made a noncommittal noise.

“Which do you think the baby will like?” We moved to a shelf of infant-appropriate wooden toys. “These are cute!” She held up a set of natural wood toys shaped into Christmas items like a tree, an ornament, and a Santa. “My niece is going to get loaded down with presents this year.”

“You look like a man that’s been dragged to Christmas hell and back.” The shop owner was cheerful when Evie placed her replaces on the counter. “Is your girlfriend treating you right? You can’t run him ragged.”

“She’s already maxed out her card. Not too much more damage she can do. Besides—” I smirked at her. “I can take it.”

As Evie paid, I noticed a small basket with what looked like broken toys. The sign said they were to be rehomed.

“Maybe this would be more your price range,” I joked to Evie, digging through the pile of broken toys.

“Ha ha.”

My fingers brushed something metal.

“A doggie!”

“Ooh, she is not friendly.” Evie rushed over to the little girl who was infatuated with Snowball.

I grabbed her receipt and bags.

“I tried to fix it,” the shopkeeper told me, nodding to the little metal miniature locomotive in my hand. “But.” He shrugged. “I have a lifetime of projects in my garage.”

“Yeah.” I reached to put it back.

“Take it.”

I hesitated then pocketed the little metal locomotive.

“Is no one hiring?” Evie asked with a sigh when we were back on the sidewalk after she dragged Snowball away from the crying girl who just, quote, “wanted a puppy exactly like that one for Christmas.”

“I know!” Evie grabbed my arm. “Can you get me a job at the country club?”

“Members’ kids can’t work there. It makes people uncomfortable.”

“Crap.”

Ahead of us was a shop with a black-and-white-striped awning and pink decorations in their window of pink poodles having a Christmas tea party in front of a Christmas tree.

Snowball’s pointed ears perked up.

“You were nice to that little girl, and you didn’t bite Anderson when he picked you up, so I think someone deserves a treat!” Evie gushed to the dog.

I reached for the door handle.

“She’s actually banned from this store. Could you wait outside with her, please?” Evie winced.

“Banned?” I raised an eyebrow.

“She went after a Doberman. His owner wanted me to pay for his therapy. It was a whole thing.”

“Damn, Snowball.” I looked at the tiny Pomeranian with newfound respect.

Blocking the dog with my boot, I held the door open for Evie.

“Wait! Résumé.” I handed her one.

She made a face.

I waited, watching Evie through the glass as she selected dog treats. To one side of the door was an advertisement for the town’s annual holiday parade this coming weekend. Santa would be there, as would the high school marching band. Henry Murphy was going to be the prince of the holiday parade, to honor all his service for his country. The small-town hero.

Fucker.

Looking around, I ripped the poster down, crumpled it up, and tossed it the few feet to a nearby trash can.

When Evie came back out, she held a white paper sack with the store’s logo on it and the résumé.

“They said Snowball was a liability and they weren’t going to hire me.” She tossed the little dog a snack.

“We have to get you a treat, though, Anderson,” she said, walking backward in front of me. “There’s a stall nearby in the Christmas market that sells the cutest cake pops.”

I couldn’t help the bemused smile. “Gingersnap, every single time I’m with you, you’re stuffing me full of desserts. I’m not going to be able to run a mile by New Year’s at this rate.”

“It’s not like you ever eat them.” She punched me lightly on the chest. “But fine, we’ll go to Fern and Froth. They have herb-and-cream-cheese-stuffed pretzels. You can also get plants there. But you can’t let me buy a plant,” she warned me.

“I can’t?”

“I have spent way too much money on succulents, and they all die.”

There were more posters up as we walked down Main Street.

“I can’t wait for the parade,” Evie chattered. “Snowball, I can’t leave you at home because Dad doesn’t want you there unsupervised, but if I bring you, you have to behave, okay? It’s Henry’s big day.”

I tried to keep my expression neutral but couldn’t stop the noise of disgust.

Evie shot me a dark look. “Hey, you made your bed. You can’t get mad when people want to celebrate him.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to get through those god-awful brunches with your parents? That you deserve to be treated like that?” I growled.

“I haven’t made the best choices.”

“You haven’t made the worst either.”

She shrugged helplessly, rubbing her arm.

“Why don’t you just ditch your family? Screw them. Leave. Run away. Go replace your birth parents. Maybe that’s your holiday miracle, reuniting with your birth mother.”

“Except, like Snowball, I’ve been striking out on rejections,” she said, swinging her bag. “Found my birth mom a few years ago. She was pretty pissed I showed up to ruin her perfect life. Apparently, she found some awesome rich guy to marry, and she has a cushy life as a stay-at-home mom with nannies and maids and everything.”

“Birth father?”

“He’s from a good family.”

“Ah.”

“And you know how that goes. His parents apparently didn’t know I existed, and he wanted to keep it that way so as not to jeopardize his multimillion-dollar inheritance.”

“Did you blackmail them too? You should have a pretty cushy fund from the payout for your silence.”

“No, uh, no. I didn’t.”

We walked in silence for a moment.

Evie turned to me. “You’re the first person I’ve ever blackmailed.”

“Don’t I feel special.”

We walked into a coffee shop overflowing with poinsettias, wreaths, succulents, ferns, and other broad-leafed plants.

It was warm and humid in the shop. The smell of dirt and coffee and cheese was almost overwhelming.

Snowball sneezed.

I unzipped my jacket.

“Merry Christmas!” Evie greeted the two older ladies behind the counter while I watched Snowball to make sure she didn’t mistake the plant array for a park.

“Grab a seat anywhere,” one of the old ladies said.

Evie looked up at me.

I tried to silently communicate that I was suffocating in the coffee shop rainforest.

“We’ll just take them to go,” she said. “Two herb-and-cheese-stuffed pretzels, please. A black coffee for him and a Winter Wonderland frosted latte for me.”

The ancient toaster oven behind the counter heated up, adding yet another layer of conflicting smells to the humid shop while Evie chatted with the shop ladies about the upcoming parade and when the street closing was going to happen, and they’d better make sure the delivery truck came early because Evie thought the streets were closing at midnight, and the old ladies thought five a.m.

“Two stuffed pretzels.” The shorter-haired old lady crumpled the top of the paper sack and set it on the counter while her friend set down the coffees.

The old lady kept her hand on the coffees when I tried to reach for them.

“Shame on you,” the old woman scolded me. “Trying to ruin a nice family like the Murphys.”

I tensed up.

Evie didn’t say anything, of course, just stood there while I had to take it.

“I used to babysit Henry,” the other lady added. Now the tears were starting. “You shouldn’t even show your face around here.”

“It’s a free country.” I put a snarl behind the words.

Her hands didn’t budge on the cups.

I wrenched the coffees away from her. “Evie already paid for these.”

“Sorry,” Evie said guiltily when we were back on the sidewalk. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I have to go,” I said abruptly.

“They just…” Evie made a helpless gesture. “It’s just everyone loves my family, loves Henry and the triplets, anyway. They’re just doing what they think is right.”

“You don’t need to explain it to me,” I said coldly, handing her the coffee. “Your family is the Maplewood Falls nobility. And you’re their court jester.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“And you’re delusional.” I rounded on her.

“I don’t want to hear it. My choices are my own. Take your pretzel.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Fine. I’ll eat them both.”

We stood there, fuming at each other.

“Why are you so… so…” I searched for the word.

“So what, Anderson? Spit it out. I have to go haul food for fifty to Aunt Trish’s house.”

“You were just being nice to me so that I’d drive you around? Is that it?” I demanded, getting in her face.

“God no. Of course not.” Evie wasn’t intimidated. “I was about to say that today didn’t totally suck, but obviously, you were going to ruin that eventually. Just go away.”

“I’ll drive you.” And return the phones I’d stolen.

“No.”

“Yes, I will,” I said hotly. “It’s all part of the deluxe blackmail package.”