Bad Romeo Christmas: A Starcrossed Anthology (Starcrossed #4)(11)

Tribble immediately closes her mouth and glares at Cassie, who narrows her eyes and glares back. If I wasn't worried about being slapped or nipped, I'd laugh.

"Girls, please," I say. "You're both pretty. Can't you accept there's enough Ethan to go around?"

Cassie rolls her eyes and picks up the insulated bag that contains our food. Well, my food, plus her green bean abomination.

"One day, Holt," Cassie says, as she fixes me with a sultry expression. "I'm going to make you choose between me and that little dog, and on that day, we'll see who you really love the most." She leans in and whispers, "Keep in mind that if you don't choose me, that lacy pink thing you bought yesterday will never see the light of day. No pressure."

I almost groan when she swings her hips and walks through the living room to the kitchen. Dammit, I have plans for that ass and the lacy pink thing. Dirty, horny, pleasuring-my-woman-like-it's-my-job plans.

I glance at Tribble. "Sorry, sweetheart. She's bribing me with her hotness. You can't compete with that. But we can still be friends, right?"

She blinks at me before lunging forward and swiping her candy-pink tongue across my cheek.

"I'm going to take that as a yes, but cool it on the tongue kisses, okay? You need a mint, big time."

I put her down and head into the living room, trying not to trip over her as she winds around my feet.

The back of Dad's head peeks over the top of his chair as he watches television, and I get a flash of my old irritation that he didn't bother coming to say hello when we arrived. But as I get closer, I notice he's wearing a giant set of headphones, and when I touch him on the shoulder, he jumps a little before standing and giving me a smile.

"Son! Sorry, didn't hear you arrive." He pulls off the headphones and gestures to them. "Bought myself an early Christmas present. These babies are the only things that will block out your mother's incessant Christmas carols. They also have Bluetooth, so I can watch television in peace."

I glance at the TV screen, and after a moment realize that the tall actor dressed in scrubs and a white coat is me.

"Dad, really? This episode again?" A couple of months ago I was a guest star on a popular medical drama. I played a brain surgeon. Dad just about passed out with happiness. If he couldn't have the satisfaction of his son being an actual doctor, then he was sure as hell going to revel in him being a fake one.

"It's just a great episode," he says with a shrug. "You rattle off that medical jargon like a pro, son. I still say you would have made one hell of a doctor."

"Yeah, apart from all that pesky throwing up at the sight of blood."

"Minor obstacle." He smiles and claps me on the shoulder. "Would you like a drink?"

"Is it likely a leomorphic xanthroastrocytoma will occur in the upper hemispherical leptomeninges of the brain?" My dad blinks at me. "The answer is 'yes', Dad. Obviously."

He smiles. "See? I totally bought you knowing that stuff."

As he heads over to the bar to pour us whiskey, I think about how far our relationship has come in recent years. Dad no longer criticizes me about my chosen profession, and I don't lash out like a defensive * every time he speaks to me. Sounds simple, but it took us a long time to get here, all adult and self-aware.

I think the turning point came when I had my motorbike accident in France a few years ago. The thought of losing his only son made Dad reassess how he treated me, and in turn I got therapy for all the crap that made me behave like an idiot. Now, we're closer than we've ever been, and I wish I hadn't wasted so much time pushing him away.

He hands me a generous tumbler of whiskey on the rocks and clinks my glass with his. "Merry Christmas, son."

"Merry Christmas, Dad."

As I'm swallowing my first mouthful, I hear the front door open.

"Hey, guys!" my sister calls down the hallway. "We're here."

I put my glass on the coffee table, and head to where Elissa and her best friend, Joshua Kane, are stamping slush off their shoes and shaking snowflakes out of their hair.

"It's really starting to come down out there," Elissa says with a smile. "Merry Christmas, big brother." She stands on her toes to hug me.

"Merry Christmas, Lissa." When I let her go, I turn and shake Josh's hand. "Hey, Josh. Mamma and Poppa Kane have fled Manhattan as usual?"

He squeezes my hand before taking off his glasses and wiping them dry on his t-shirt. "Yep. They're like clockwork. As soon as the first snow falls, my parents make the great Jewish pilgrimage to warmer climates. They've gone to Australia this year. I made sure they bumped up the value of their insurance policies before they left, of course, because we all know everything in Australia can kill you. Who knows? I may be an orphan before the new year."

"But a rich orphan?"

"Exactly."

I smile and shake my head. Josh has been Elissa's best friend since she was fifteen, so having him at our place for Christmas is as expected as Mom's Christmas carol binge. I always wondered why he and Elissa never hooked up, considering they seem to spend every waking moment together and clearly love each other. But Elissa always brushes me off when I pressure her about it. She tells me that despite Josh being an attractive, heterosexual man, she doesn't feel that way about him.