Elf Against the Wall: A Holiday Romantic Comedy (The Wynter Brothers Book 2)
Elf Against the Wall: Chapter 5

“And this year’s Murphy Misfit award goes to… drumroll please…”

Sawyer rapped the serving tongs on the marble counter of my mom’s kitchen.

“Evie Murphy!” Ian announced.

“Whooo!” Sawyer tossed red, white, and green M&Ms at me. They were the official candy of the Murphy Misfits, a club consisting of me, Ian, and Sawyer—the black sheep.

“Don’t eat those,” I chided Snowball. “I’m unemployed and don’t have money for a vet bill.”

Sawyer scooped up the chocolate.

“It’s not the end of the year, guys,” I reminded them as I carefully plated the holiday-sweater-shaped sugar cookies I’d spent all afternoon baking for my mom’s party on the antique tiered-glass tray.

Did the Murphys not just have a holiday party?

Why, yes. Yes, we did.

However, when you’re part of a big family, what’s more fun than passive-aggressively one-upping your siblings and/or cousins at being the perfect hostess?

“It’s close enough that I’m calling it, folks.” Ian used a dead-on sports announcer voice, holding a candy cane up to his mouth as a microphone. “Not only did Evie come off strong from last year, what with kissing Felicity’s fiancé, but she’s shown another strong finish this year with her third firing of the season and an official notice of disownment from the Murphy parental team leaders. Ian, with his low-paid understudy role, just doesn’t have the runway to make up the ground.”

“Because Ian is at least getting paid.”

“Allegedly.” Ian switched back to his real voice and stole a piece of cheese off the charcuterie board.

“Wasn’t the director absolutely for sure letting you dance the Nutcracker Prince?” Sawyer rearranged the cheese on the board.

“He was.” Ian’s face went dark. “He’s a cheap wad. You should have seen who he hired to repair the expanding Christmas tree. I think Snowball could have done a better job.”

The Pomeranian yipped.

The doorbell rang with the first of my mother’s ugly-holiday-sweater-party guests.

“Showtime!”

“I hope everyone likes the snacks,” I fretted.

“Just give it up.” Ian pulled on the sweater I’d crocheted for him, with its array of holiday appliques of Rudolph and his friends. “You keep bending over backward for these people, but they’re never going to see you as anything other than the interloper who tried to ruin Felicity’s relationship. Even when you moved in with Declan and his wife and provided night nursing and general housekeeping for free, he didn’t say one nice word about you to the family.”

“They’re busy with their new baby.”

“This family doesn’t deserve you.” Ian patted his hair in place.

“Come December twenty-fifth, it’s over one way or the other,” Sawyer reminded me as she smoothed down her bright-blue sweater with a snow scene on it. It wasn’t my best work, but Sawyer insisted she loved it.

“Don’t remind me.” I felt sick. I shouldn’t have eaten all those cookies. Mouth dry, I pulled on my own red-and-white holiday sweater.

“Might want to go change.” Sawyer pointed. “People already think you’re a ho ho ho. Don’t want to advertise it.”

I raced the three flights of stairs up to the attic and rummaged in a cast-off trunk for a different holiday sweater. Yeah, these were all holiday sweaters I’d crafted for my parents and non–Murphy Misfit family, and they all had ended up here.

It’s the thought that counts on Christmas, right?

The makeshift attic bedroom was drafty. The round window that looked out over the front yard was single paned and needed to be reglazed. The cracks were big enough that I could hear Snowball’s furious barks.

Dammit.

My dad hated it when Snowball barked and would always remind me that the Irish setters didn’t howl like they were deranged.

Pulling the cold iron handle of the window, I finally tugged it open, sending paint flecks drifting into the winter wind.

Leaning out the window, I sucked in a breath of cold winter air to yell at Snowball then almost fell out the window when I saw what she was barking at.

Or rather, who.

“Nope. Not today, Satan.” I grabbed the first sweater in the pile and clattered down the stairs, pulling it over my head as I raced down to intercept him.

I’d half believed I’d dreamed last night. My dad hadn’t noticed the repairs to the statue, and I’d erased all evidence that Anderson had even been in the house.

Now he was here? Why?

What if he really had been out for revenge? Maybe I’d interrupted his big Murphy annihilation plan and he was here to finish what he started.

I needed to stop him.

But I was too late, I realized as, wheezing, I rushed into the living room, where my family was crowding around the new arrival.

Anderson cut a chilling figure against the cheery Christmas décor.

Thick black leather motorcycle pants rode low on his hips. Tattoos snaked up the V of muscle that led to parts of him that I was totally not interested in exploring. More black ink trailed up the washboard abs, up the swell of pecs, to the broad shoulders and crawled along the tendons of his neck to disappear under the dark black motorcycle helmet that swiveled around slowly to survey my family.

You can fix this, I told myself, taking an unsteady step toward him. They haven’t seen his face. He could be anyone. You just have to get rid of him. Now.

“You can come down my chimney anytime, Santa!” Nat whooped, causing the rest of my female cousins to hold on to each other, jumping up and down and screaming. Phones out, they recorded the impending carnage.

“Now, this is a holiday shindig!” Granny Doyle whooped appreciatively. “Glad to see you removed that stick up your butt, Melissa, and actually tried to throw a fun holiday party for once. Life is for living!”

Granny Doyle poured out shots, splashing vodka on the table. The smell of fake eggnog coupled with the monster in the middle of the living room was making it hard to keep from tossing my Christmas cookies.

“You brought a stripper to your holiday party?” Grandma Shirley was appalled. “Why am I not surprised?”

“He’s not for you.” Granny Doyle handed my cousin Lauren a shot glass wrapped in dollar bills. “We all know you wouldn’t know what to do with a man like that if he popped up naked out of your toilet.” Gran and Lauren knocked their shots back.

The helmet swiveled to her.

“Mom, please. Of course I didn’t hire a stripper, Shirley. Brian, do something,” Melissa hissed.

My dad rolled up his sleeves. “Excuse me, who hired you?”

The helmet inclined slightly.

“Dad, don’t.” Henry’s voice was sharp as the shirtless man took a step toward me, wood floors creaking under the heavy boot falls.

“This is all just a horrible misunderstanding.” I tried to shoo him to the door. “A prank gone wrong.”

“You brought this…” My mother gestured helplessly. “Here?”

“Gingersnap,” the deep voice rumbled from under the helmet. “I thought you’d be happy to see me. I came all this way for you.”

“I’ll just give you your payment outside.”

“You did hire him, Evie Murphy.” My mom’s voice was shrill. Better her anger than her heartbreak.

Desperate, I shoved my shoulder against the massive chest but couldn’t budge him.

A tattooed arm reached up, twisting the black helmet slightly then removing it… and unleashing complete bedlam at the holiday party.

“St. Nick, stick me on a spit and roast me like a marshmallow!” My female cousins and most of my aunts yodeled like horny cats.

Henry immediately let out a line of expletives and shouted, “I knew it was you!”

My mother grabbed my father, wailing like the Grinch had just crash-landed in Whoville.

“Cute party,” Anderson announced over the fray, fixing those ghostly eyes on me.

“How could you?” my mom screamed, tears streaming down her face.

“Disowned!” my father thundered. “You’re disowned, Evie.”

“Miss me, Gingersnap?” A smile sliced Anderson’s face. He reached out to grab my waist possessively, the rough palm of his hand sliding briefly under the frumpy, misshapen sweater.

Bending down, he growled against my ear, low so only I could hear,

“I told you—fuck with me, and there’s hell to pay.”

“Motherfucker.” Henry shoved the tattooed man off me. “You don’t have any right to be here, Anderson.”

“I was invited,” my Christmas nightmare drawled.

My father’s eyes were round with shock. The triplets cowered next to Declan.

“Man.” Granny Doyle whistled. “I know Anderson tried to kill Henry and all, but damn if an attempted murderer never looked so good.”

My mother made an indignant noise.

There was a scowl stamped on Anderson’s mouth.

“But he’s stacked the game in his favor,” Nat purred.

“I’m sure Evie didn’t tell you, but this is an ugly-holiday-sweater party,” Lauren added, literally licking her lips.

“Naughty boy,” Nat hummed. “Someone isn’t wearing a sweater.”

Slow smile spreading on his face, he reached up one tattooed hand to his neck and ran his fingers lazily along a jagged tattoo.

“You can’t make an exception?” the deep voice rumbled.

“Oh, we can!” My cousins panted.

Braeden, who, unlike Henry and Anderson, was not an ex-Marine, stepped up next to my eldest brother.

“Braeden, what in God’s name are you doing? Sit down. You’re not going to fight Anderson Wynter,” Sawyer said derisively. “Go away.”

“Boo! You’re blocking my shot!” Lauren yelled, phone out.

“Felicity, tell your lame-o fiancé to move it!” Nat hollered.

Anderson took a menacing step toward Braeden, who held his position for a split second then thought better of it and scuttled out of the way. The large man banged his shoulder into Henry’s as he passed him to get to me.

My family seemed to take a collective breath, waiting in anticipation for what was going to happen next.

“You,” my mother said, voice trembling as she pushed off my father, “are not welcome in this house, and you are certainly not dating my daughter.”

“I don’t date girls. I fuck them.” Anderson slowly rolled his shoulders. “And in my defense, I didn’t know she was your daughter the first time she begged me to fill her up.”

There were shocked gasps from the family.

“She doesn’t look anything like you,” he added, flat gray gaze flicking dismissively over my mother. “Thank fuck, because I like a woman with big tits I can come all over and an ass that I can hold on to when I’m raw-dogging her pussy.”

The flat of his large hand connected with my backside, making me squeak.

The color drained from my father’s face.

Anderson smiled maliciously, a bad elf standing in the middle of the North Pole with a smirk on his face, holding a gas can and a cigarette lighter. He was here to blow up my life.

As I looked around at my horrified family, it was then that I realized I had, in fact, fucked up.

In a lifetime of bad decisions, blackmailing Anderson Wynter was hands down the worst.

“Trust me,” Anderson continued, deep voice rumbling around the room, “holiday parties aren’t what I typically fuck with, but Evie really wanted me to come, and I really wanted her to choke on my dick tonight, so here I am.”

This isn’t happening. I’m going to pass out.

“Stay the hell away from her.”

Declan and several of my male cousins had to hold back Henry as he tried to take a swing at Anderson.

“She doesn’t have anything to do with what’s between us. If you have a problem, you come to me, not my sister.”

Anderson was unbothered. “So much for the holiday spirit.” He turned to me, horrible delight in his eyes. “Next time you want to fuck, Gingersnap, just stick your ass out of the kitchen window, and I’ll take care of it. I don’t want to get tied up in your family issues, and your mom doesn’t want me in her living room.”

“I want you in her living room!” Aunt J whooped.

“I demand you leave at once,” my father said firmly.

“Whatever. Gingersnap.” Anderson snapped his fingers at me. “Let’s go.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t speak.

He looked me up and down. Cold. Unfeeling.

“Want to disobey me? Fine. I’ll take it out of your ass tonight.” He turned, helmet swinging from one hand.

“Someone call the cops!” Braeden yelped as Anderson slipped the helmet back on and disappeared out into the winter night.

“Someone call animal control.” Aunt J fanned herself.

“Fuck that!” Granny Doyle hooted. “Call the fire department. That was hot, hot, hot!”

Finally able to shake off the paralysis, I raced after him, my flats slipping and sliding on the icy walkway.

Anderson was twisting on his jacket as he made his way toward the black motorcycle.

“Bastard!” I yelled at him, the tears freezing on my face. “You ruined my life! You ruined it more than it was already ruined. No deal. Fuck you.”

The faceless helmet peered over his shoulder at me.

I hurled myself at him, fists flying. “Did you see my mother’s face? They hate me now.”

“Calm down, Gingersnap.” Large hands trapped me, one on my waist and one on my arm. There was the brief sensation of warm leather under my palms as I twisted against him.

“Get off of me.” I struggled, my feet sliding while his boots stay firmly planted.

“Stop fighting me. I don’t want them to think we’re breaking up.” The deep voice mocked me behind the motorcycle helmet. “Mutually assured destruction, remember?”

“The deal is off.” I sniffled. “I’m calling the police.”

Hollow laughter came from behind the helmet.

“I saw your family in there, Gingersnap.” He released me with a shake. “If you go back in there and tell them that you tried to blackmail the Murphys’ sworn enemy so that you could make your cousin’s boyfriend admit he loves you, then you’re just digging that hole deeper for yourself.”

Damn him, he was right.

“You wanted to play with the wolves. You can’t be upset when you get bitten.” He spread his arms. “Looks like you did a fantastic job of alienating your entire family back there. Guess you’re stuck with me, Gingersnap. Now give me a kiss.” He leaned toward me.

I slapped the helmet. “You’re as horrible as Henry always said you were.”

“And don’t you forget it.” His huge gloved hand grabbed my face, shaking it softly like you’d do a dog. He released me before I could hit him again then straddled his motorcycle, making a big show of adjusting his Christmas package as he settled on the dark-leather seat.

“I don’t ever want to see you again!” I shouted at him.

He revved the engine then popped the visor briefly to pin me with those snow-demon eyes.

“Something tells me you’re going to come crawling back to me. You made a deal with the devil and all.”

The visor slammed shut.

I breathed hard, my breath clouding around me as I slowly made my way back to the house.

I shouldn’t have done it. I should never have done it. I should have known that you can’t leash a man like Anderson Wynter. I needed to get rid of him, needed to break his hold on me, neutralize his angry fixation.

I slipped back in through the front door.

My mother was waiting.

“You.” Melissa grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my flesh as she dragged me to my dad’s study.

“Young lady.” She addressed me like I was a middle schooler again and had gotten yet another D on a math test. “I am so disappointed in you.”

Tears filled my mother’s eyes. “How could you be involved with that… that criminal? He almost got your brother killed. My baby.”

My mother broke down in my father’s arms.

I felt like a worm, like a little slug. There was no argument about it. Anderson was pure evil.

And he was trying to break my family apart.

No. Correction, he was trying to break me apart from my family.

“You don’t understand what it’s like to birth a perfect child then have someone try to kill him.”

“Mom,” Henry began. “Don’t you think this is a little excessive?”

My mother barreled on. “And then to have the girl that you invited into your home, loved like your own child, throw that love back in your face and start dating—”

“Sleeping with,” one of the triplets, Alana, corrected before she could stop herself. “Anderson said they weren’t actually dating, just hooking up.”

“Fucking, really…” her identical triplet added then trailed off. “He said the F-word…”

My mother took a shaky breath and looked up at the ceiling. “I’ve never been more ashamed to call you my daughter, Evie.”

A crowd of family members on the porch peered through the open French doors into the study, addicted to the dramatic telenovela that was my life.

“So glad I didn’t skip this party,” one of my dad’s cousins whispered to her sister-in-law.

“I know, right?” The other woman sipped her wine. “It’s always so boring, but this? Totally worth the Uber fare.”

My father tapped in to the Evie emotional beat down. “You need to break it off right now with Anderson Wynter,” my father ordered. “I just—” He turned around then back to me, frustrated. “I don’t understand, Evie. What were you thinking?”

“I’ll tell you!” Granny Doyle hollered through the doorway off the foyer. “It looks to me like she’s thinking with her vajazzlebiscuit. Can’t say I blame her. I thought menopause had dried me up, and now here I am, about to have to change my underwear.”

“Mom, not helpful, and it’s not even seven o’clock. Why are you already drunk?” my mom fussed at Gran.

“Because like all of us, she thought this party was going to be torturously boring—oh!” my dad’s sister chirped. “Did I say that in my outside voice? I love the charcuterie board, Melissa. Sooo cute!”

“I actually made that.” I slowly raised my hand then put it back down at my mother’s withering glare.

My aunt toasted me with her hand-painted cocktail glass.

“Hopefully, this means the mandatory party games are canceled,” one of Dad’s brothers joked to Uncle Hugh.

“That dick must be fire, though.” Lauren and Nat fanned each other.

Cousin Irene, face flushed, said breathlessly, “I can’t imagine what it must be like to be in bed with Anderson. He’s an animal, crazy and dangerous. He has no soul.”

“Massive dick, no soul.” Aunt Jennifer made a weighing motion with her hands. “I don’t need a man to respect me to fuck me.”

“Then why did you bitch me out,” her boyfriend du jour complained, “when I came home with the wrong brand of yogurt?”

“He tried to kill my son!” my mother cried to noises of disgust from her sisters.

“You’re going to milk that until the day you die.”

“Drama queen.” Aunt J coughed into her glass.

My dad’s jaw was tight. “Evie, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Sweat dripped from my armpits under the sweater. I tried my hardest not to look at the hastily repaired wood sculpture on the side table.

Just come clean.

Honesty is the best policy.

Get it out of the way, then I could go back to being strongly disliked as opposed to actively hated.

“Well, I, uh… you see…” I tapped my two index fingers together.

“Think of Henry!” my mother cried, interrupting me. “Did you even think about how he would feel? This is traumatizing for him.”

“Mom.” Henry rested a hand on her arm, centering himself. “Please. I think everyone is overreacting. Clearly,” he said, cutting off my mother’s arguments, “Evie is just doing this for attention. It’s a phase, and we need to just ignore it.”

Ian scoffed under his breath, “What a twerp.”

Henry’s mouth turned down at the corners.

“My wonderful son is right.” My mother rallied and clapped her hands. “Everyone, ignore Evie’s desperate cry for attention. We’ll indulge her little fantasy, and she’ll see that she can’t co-opt the Christmas holiday season with her juvenile nonsense.”

“Nothing juvenile about that man.” Aunt J and Aunt Virginia toasted each other.

Nothing human about that man. He was pure evil. Chaotic evil, really.

I couldn’t believe my family—or at least some of my family—was fawning all over him and acting like I was actually with him. Like I would even willingly be with someone like Anderson Wynter.

Under the angry gaze of my father, I escaped through the crush of drama-hungry family members back to the kitchen, where I slumped down next to the oven… where my clam chowder bites were burning.

“Shoot!” I scrambled back up and yanked them out of the oven, fanning them.

Then I bent over, feeling lightheaded.

I was completely, totally, effed.