Good Elf Gone Wrong: A Holiday Romantic Comedy

“It is the great irony of our time that you are making more progress on the fake job as opposed to the one I am paying you real money for.”

Grayson sounded, not angry, but just a knife’s edge away from it, which was somehow more unnerving.

I knew who his father was: I made a point of knowing all my clients before taking their money, and the ability to do terrible things to people was hard-coded into his DNA.

“It’s part of the plan.”

“Jake tells me that you went shopping with her yesterday and spent all night decorating. Are you having a midlife crisis?”

“I’m not middle-aged.”

“In your line of work you are.”

“My brothers aren’t supposed to be interfacing with you,” I said tersely, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.

Even though Jake was technically a grown man, he was always going to be my little brother, and no one fucked with my little brothers. I didn’t care how much money they had.

“Relax,” Grayson said. “Whatever you think of me, I’m not coming after your brothers. However, I want you to deliver me EnerCheck with a stake through its heart.”

While Grayson might sneer at decorating a wedding venue, after seeing her interact with her family then pull magazine-worthy décor out of thin air, it was more clear to me than ever that I was on the right track, and Gracie was the key to taking down her family. The rest of them were completely useless.

She’d have to go into her family’s office eventually. They couldn’t resist making her do free work. If I hung around her, with a little bit of a nudge, she’d invite me along too. Then I’d grab all the evidence and send Grayson a bill for a seven-figure amount.

Merry Christmas to me.

Speaking of Christmas …

“What are you going to wear?”

“Get off of my bed,” I yelled at Talbot as I toweled my hair.

“You’re not wearing a suit?” Anderson asked as I threw a pair of black jeans on the bed.

“I don’t know why you all are here. Do you not have anything to do?”

“It Christmas, Mr. Scrooge,” Jake said in a terrible British accent.

Lawrence stuffed a handful of condoms in the jacket pocket. “I am not ready to be an uncle yet.”

I sighed and pulled them back out before shrugging on the jacket, letting it settle around my shoulders like armor. I’d gone to a high-society party before, real Manhattan high-society parties, not Maplewood Falls high society. Still this was my hometown, and old childhood hurts never seemed to heal.

They were going to look down their noses at me.

That’s the point. The best disguise is other people’s prejudices.

“Not the hat, please. Have some class,” Talbot said as I reached for the black ski hat.

“I’m working, not going on a date.”

“We know how irresistible you are to women,” he said as I tied up my boots.

“Besides, you’ve been on edge lately. It could be a win-win. You could hurry this job along and blow off some steam.”

Hook up with Gracie?

No, that wasn’t what virgins did, right? She would be expecting me to, I don’t know, make love to her, tell her how precious she was to me, make her feel safe and cared for.

That was not the kind of sex I had.

It was not the first time I’d done sexual stuff in the pursuit of a security contract. It might be the first time I felt bad about it.

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on. That’s what your target is expecting. She hired you for your looks. She’s clearly attracted to you,” Lawrence said with a smirk. “I bet you could convince her to spread her legs for you in the back of your truck.”

I punched him in the stomach, and he doubled over, sinking to the floor.

“Fuck you,” I enunciated and zipped up my jacket.

“Don’t drink too much eggnog! Be home by ten,” Anderson called as I stalked to the front door.

“Go to hell.”