Elf Against the Wall: A Holiday Romantic Comedy (The Wynter Brothers Book 2)
Elf Against the Wall: Chapter 30

“You’d better be paying.”

“Is that frosting in your hair, or are you just happy to see me?”

I sat down across from Aaron at a rickety metal table at the old 1950s horse-racing track on the outskirts of the Gulch, just outside the city limits of Maplewood Falls.

Aaron slid over a shot glass filled with oily, clear alcohol.

Bracing myself, I knocked it back.

Coughing, I forced out, “Can’t you just call like a normal person?” I pounded my chest as the alcohol went down my throat, burning away the guilt, the anger, the bitterness. But it couldn’t burn away the taste of Evie.

She didn’t know how close I’d been to throwing her onto the ground and fucking her doggie style until she couldn’t hold any more of my cum.

I took two more shots in quick succession, wishing I could just drink the whole bottle.

“We are eight days away from Christmas, and you’re still short.” Aaron knocked back another of the toxic-waste shots, wincing slightly.

“I’m going to get the money. No problem. I’d have it by now if you hadn’t yanked my leash. You’re wasting my time.”

Aaron fixed his unyielding green eyes on me.

Both of us had grown up in shitty circumstances, but Aaron’s childhood made mine look like a multiyear Disneyland trip.

He was used to being hypersensitive to people’s micro behaviors. Not doing so could have resulted in being on the receiving end of violence or starvation. The skill was further honed in insurance, where you could save hundreds of millions of dollars by ferreting out when people were lying or withholding part of the truth.

I tried to keep my expression neutral but confident. “I’m very close wrapping up the Bergeson contract. You’ll be able to close it out and be home in time for Christmas.”

Aaron poured more of the toxic liquid out of the glass bottle and set it back down on the table with a thump.

“And yet I heard you spent the last several days baking cakes, going to parties, and fixing some girl’s window.”

“She’s not some girl.” I tensed before I could set my expression.

“She the love of your life?” Aaron didn’t flinch.

“Of course not.” I backtracked. “I’m using her.”

“Sounds like she’s using you. How much do you normally charge to decorate a house that size? Maybe next Christmas, I’ll have you come string lights on my roof.”

I resisted the urge to blow it all to hell and throw him to the floor. “Look, I already have my brother up my ass about it,” I snarled. “I don’t need any more secret summonses. Just let me work. Evie’s been a gold mine. I hit like half the list after one party with her.”

“Hurry up.” Aaron shifted. “I need you to look at that train derailment that was on the news. Close this out so I can fly you out to Idaho. Don’t make me have to fire your brother’s firm. I already have you all booked out for investigation through Q2.” Aaron downed another toxic drink.

“What evidence do you have so far on… what’s his name? Braeden?”

“He’s a slimy little shit. He made a mistake somewhere. He’s cocky. He thinks he’s getting one over on me. There’s a smoking gun somewhere. He can’t stay away from Evie. If he was smart, he would have just left her alone.”

Aaron slowly blinked. “What does that have to do with the alleged scammer that intercepted the payment to the Bergeson Real Estate accounts?”

“I just meant—” I tried to force myself not to sound defensive.

“Save it. You’re a terrible liar. I don’t care if you think you’re in love with the daughter of people that would like nothing more than to see you strapped to a yule log and set ablaze, but you work for me. You owe me money, not her.”

Technically, she was blackmailing me, but I didn’t need to remind Aaron of that. “She’s not my redemption arc, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Seems like you can’t resist a lost cause.” Aaron leaned back and crossed his arms.

“Evie’s not a lost cause, despite what her parents think. She’s fearless and brassy, and she could do anything except ride a motorcycle. I’m not letting her drive my motorcycle.”

I squashed down the image of her coming all over my bike.

Aaron raised an eyebrow. I might as well have just written my feelings on the wall in red paint.

“Can we just get through the part of the meeting where you chew me out, then you can go blab to Grayson?” I snarled. “And he can tell Hudson, and my brother can get in my shit, and then I can tell all of you to fuck off and get back to work?”

A horn blared, tinny over the loudspeaker. The race was starting.

Aaron didn’t move. “I don’t tell my older brother my business.”

“And yet like Santa Claus, he knows when you’re sleeping and knows when you’re awake. He and Hudson are constantly hanging out, gossiping like two little old ladies.”

A snarl settled on the well-dressed man’s face. “Is Grayson telling Hudson stuff about me?” Aaron demanded.

“You mean besides that he thinks you spend too much money on takeout brew at your lobby coffee cart?” I poured more of the drink. It was starting to grow on me. Or maybe that was the alcohol, like jet fuel in my veins.

“You tell Hudson that in America, we drink coffee, and he can tell Grayson to take his Earl Gray tea and shove it up his ass,” Aaron hissed.

“Fucking older brothers, right?” I saluted him with the shot glass.

“The goddamn fucking worst.”

The horn blared on the sound system again. The race was over.

It didn’t matter who won. Everyone here knew the real reason this racetrack was still operational.

“I think,” Aaron said, inspecting the bottle, “that if they actually bothered to age this, it—”

“You sit the fuck down, you fucking old cunt.”

“The hell did you say to my grandmother, bootleg Scarface motherfucker!”

I set down my full shot glass, twisting in my seat. “Evie? What the fuck?”