Elf Against the Wall: A Holiday Romantic Comedy (The Wynter Brothers Book 2)
Elf Against the Wall: Chapter 38

I’d crossed a line.

Actually, it wasn’t just a line—I’d strapped a rocket to the back of a convertible and gone straight over the Mississippi River.

I kicked the rag she’d used across the floor.

What the fuck had I done?

Whatever.

I was searching these Bianca files, giving Aaron his last deliverable, then I was fucking off to Idaho.

I wished, though, as I opened up the Bianca files to start scanning them for the evidence, that I’d asked Evie to stay. I’d have given anything to be curled up next to her, warm under the blankets instead of standing here in the chilly room, eyes fatiguing as I flicked through file after file, trying to replace something that would clear my ledger.

When day started to break, the pale-pink light glowing in the clerestory window of the converted garage, Aaron called.

I ignored it, grabbing my jacket and my helmet.

Was it too early to go over there?

Probably.

But I could rationalize it.

Bianca had four terabytes of data on her computer, none of it organized. A lot of it was videos of her cat and her kids. She wrote everything down, so I knew there was evidence there, buried under a thousand low-quality cat memes.

However, if she didn’t have evidence, or if I needed more data, I’d need Evie to access it. So I couldn’t ghost her yet.

I had to go see her. The job required it.

Evie stood in the kitchen, balancing on one leg in oversize Rudolph slippers, the nose giving off a faint glow while Snowball jumped around, pretending to attack them.

She was mixing up some sort of custard with egg beaters. She didn’t hear me when I opened the door or when I crossed the small Christmas-themed carpet over the tile floor, didn’t notice till I stood behind her, inhaling her scent, which was sweet like cookies and cake and Christmas.

She did scream when my hands circled her waist. The beaters dropped into the bowl, spattering her with the filling mixture.

I grabbed them and switched it off.

“Oh my god.” She let out a shaky breath.

I leaned in and kissed her, tasting the slightly tart filling mixture, not hugging her so I didn’t get the filling all over my motorcycle gear.

Snowball bounced around me, yapping, tail wagging.

I bent down to greet the little dog. She jumped up, licking the few spatters of custard that speckled my face.

“You’re not going to let me say hi to your mama first?”

Evie was still clutching her mixing bowl.

I stood up, an apology already ready to jump off my tongue.

You are not like that.

“I’m—didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t,” she said in a rush. “I just didn’t expect you to be over here.”

She didn’t look at me.

“I can go.”

“No, no, I’m making breakfast.”

The corner of my mouth twitched. “I thought you said girls who do anal on the first date don’t cook breakfast.”

“This is a communal-breakfast thing, not specially for you.” She batted my hands away, but I tilted her face up to kiss her.

She didn’t seem that into it.

Fuck, I didn’t want her like that with me. Mad? Hating me? Furious? Sure.

But not sad.

“Look, I’m—” I ran a hand over the back of my neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I just had to see you.”

“Oh, for startling me? Don’t worry about it. For some reason, I thought you were someone else.” She forced out a laugh.

“No, I mean last night.”

“It’s not as sexy if you apologize for giving a girl the lay of a lifetime,” she teased. “Besides, I’m not spending the night at your place. That would be crazy. I mean, can you imagine? My mother would have a heart attack.”

“Yeah.”

Then…

“Who did you think I was?”

“No one.”

I rewound to the concern, no, the fear, in her eyes—how off-balance she was. Uncertain.

“Gingersnap.”

“It’s nothing. Can you take Snowball out? She’s trying to chew up my slippers.”

I grabbed Evie and shook her roughly. “Tell me!”

“Stop yelling at me!”

“Then fucking tell me!” I bellowed.

“It’s nothing. It’s just—”

I grabbed her jaw.

“I know you said I was supposed to act like prey, but Braeden just won’t leave me alone.”

I stilled. “That means we’re winning.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes flicked to the stairs. “Yeah, right, we’re winning. I’m being dumb.”

I released her.

“Can I get a microphone with a camera on it in case he shows up in my bedroom again in the middle of the night?” She was trying to sound jokey but couldn’t disguise the desperate edge.

“He what?”

“Well, you know…”

“That motherfucker.”

I couldn’t do it—too many sleepless nights, too much pressure building, and now Braeden, that fucking worm, that fucking cockroach, was in her room, scaring her, and I wasn’t there.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“No, just calm down,” she pleaded. “You said this was part of the plan.”

“Him in your bedroom isn’t part of the fucking plan. He doesn’t get to be in your bed.”

She must have been scared… was still scared.

I should have been there. I should never have let her leave yesterday, and I never would again.

Voices sounded in the hallway.

“Sawyer, help!” Evie begged as her cousin burst into the kitchen, followed by more Murphys.

“Get the fuck out of my way, Evie,” I ordered.

“Just drop that knife.”

I looked down at my hand to the honed chef’s knife there.

“Get the hell away from her,” Sawyer demanded, fumbling in her purse for mace.

The Murphys freaked out.

“Don’t shoot that in here!”

“Call the police!”

“I’m not going to hurt her.” I threw the knife away.

Her uncles gasped. One of them grabbed his kid as the knife seemed to sprout out of the wall.

“That was my good knife,” Evie complained.

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Whoa,” her uncle Todd said, approaching me, hands up. “Whoa, big guy.”

“What did you do to set him off?” Braeden’s nasally whine sounded from the doorway.

My head snapped up.

Evie whispered something to Sawyer.

“Jesus, you’re a scary dude.” Her other uncle took a can of beer out of the fridge and rolled it along the floor to me. “I’d hate to be whoever you were about to go after.”

“I hope it wasn’t Henry,” someone else said.

Her family was nervous, apprehensive.

“That would really set my sister-in-law off.”

“He doesn’t need that. He needs some herbal tea,” Sawyer said sourly, kicking the can away.

“No, he needs to save that aggression for the hockey game,” Todd insisted.

“You’re not seriously putting him in the hockey game. You want him to play with us?” Braeden yelped.

“I want him on my team, not on your team,” one of Evie’s cousins joked.

“Breakfast will be out soon.” Evie tried to dissipate the tension.

“No sugar,” her uncle insisted. “We need protein.”

“The French toast isn’t for you, and when you try to steal mine,” his wife added, “I’m going to remind you.”

I glared at Braeden until he followed the rest of the Murphys out of the kitchen.

Evie and her cousin were whispering while I tried to relax my shoulders.

Sawyer finally turned to me. “You need to leave.”

“I’m not fucking leaving her.”

“You pulled a knife on her,” Sawyer argued.

“I didn’t pull it. She had it on the counter.”

“This is a huge overreaction,” Evie said.

“You need to stop making excuses for the toxic men in your life,” Sawyer warned her.

Aaron called me again while I helped Evie with breakfast. I sent it to voicemail. I should go back and keep reviewing the Bianca files, but I wasn’t leaving Evie alone.

She’s not the job.

I stacked the platters of steaming food, resting the oversize trays on my shoulder as I ferried the dishes to the dining room.

Her uncles were using pieces of bacon to lay out hockey plays.

“You’re on team Grinch. Get your number from my mom,” one of Evie’s uncles told me around a bite of the ham-and-pepper stir-fry.

“I’m not playing.”

“The fuck?”

Several of her male cousins glared at me.

“Evie!” her uncle yelled back to the kitchen. “What the hell are you doing bringing a man who cannot play hockey into this house?”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t play.” I was offended. “Just that I’m not.”

“Scaredy cat.” Her brother Declan ribbed me, grinning, his baby bouncing on his knee.

“Might want to calm that down. You didn’t see him with that knife earlier,” his cousin warned him.

Granny Doyle made chicken noises at me.

Evie hurried in and set a platter of fresh French toast on the buffet. “Anderson has to work. Leave him alone.”

“Did you not put out last night, Evie?” Her aunt Jennifer asked then turned to me with a predatory smile. “I bet I can give you some motivation to play.”

“Is there money on this game or something?” I frowned.

“There damn well can be.” Granny Doyle threw down a stack of cash.

“Gambling at a family hockey game.” Shirley harrumphed.

“There’s going to be fighting and fucking at this game too.” One of Melissa’s sisters winked at me as she plaited her hair.

“This is supposed to be a wholesome holiday event,” Melissa told her.

“Booo!” Melissa’s other sisters yelled at her from the other end of the table, where they were wrapping their knuckles with tape.

“This isn’t a family-friendly event. Children are not playing,” one of them said.

Jennifer swiped black grease under her eyes. “Anderson’s scared. Leave him alone.”

“I’m not scared,” I sputtered.

“Yeah, he is.” Sawyer was calmly sipping her coffee from the doorway. “Anderson’s never played against girls before. His balls are shriveling up as we speak.”

“He’s supposed to be on my team. Don’t psych him out too hard,” Victoria said cheerfully.

“No offense, but I’m pretty sure I can beat a bunch of girls at hockey.”