The Plight Before Christmas(70)


“One heavy summer, wasn’t it?” Sean covers his chest with his hand. “Until she broke my heart.” He says it in a way that even I’m convinced. It’s then I know I’ve met the king of all bullshitters. Well, coming only second to the man standing inches away, posturing up as if he’s about to engage in a prison brawl.

Unabashedly, Sean continues. “Now I’m trying to convince her to get a drink with me.” Sean turns to Eli in challenge. “Something we can help you with?”

Eli’s eyes ice over. “She’s fine where she’s at.”

“Yeah?” Sean looks from him to me. “Let’s let her decide.”

“I better not,” I say. “We’re decorating the tree tonight.”

Sean pushes off the car. “I get it. Too bad. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Lip bite! “I’ll get you taken care of.”

Unbelievable.

The insinuation clear, Sean swaggers back to the truck pulling a chain from the reel before situating himself effortlessly beneath my car.

“They sent me to come and get you,” Eli grits out. “Everyone’s waiting.”

“I’ll be in when we’re done.”

“Kick it in neutral, would you, babe?” Sean hollers out, getting another dig in.

It’s childish, but in my defense, it wasn’t my idea. Eli was possessive enough when we were together, but the tension in his frame is outright hostile. He’s ready to maim and murder, but why? He’s only been back in my life for mere days. It’s territorial penis shit, has to be, because Eli’s got just as much ape in him as any other man. Sometimes more so. Expression loaded, Eli and I stare off as Sean brings it home by using my short name.

“Whit?”

“Yeah, on it,” I reply, realizing Eli has me boxed against the door much the same way Sean did. “Excuse me.”

Eli steps back, allowing me just enough space to get inside my car. I turn the key and put it into neutral. Eli towers over me where I sit in the driver’s seat. “You dated this fucking guy?”

“Summer thing. I was restless.”

Blatant jealousy. I have to admit it’s gratifying. But these are dangerous games, games that have me realizing I’m way too concerned with how my ex feels, so I decide to tone it down. “We didn’t have much in common.”

“Clearly.”

“How presumptuous,” I say dryly before addressing Sean, “I’m all set here.” His eyes follow my every move before he looks back at Sean, who’s lowering the flatbed of the truck.

Eli jerks his head. “You’re not leaving with him.”

“As if that’s your call,” I snort. “But I guess you didn’t hear me decline his invitation. He’s a great guy. What’s your issue?”

“I don’t like him…for you…I don’t trust him. He’s hiding something.”

“Eli—”

“I’ll tell them you’re coming,” he snaps, taking me by surprise with his venom before turning abruptly and charging back into the house. Sean walks over to where I stand, seeming satisfied.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

“That was awesome,” I laugh. “Oscar-worthy.”

“Bet it up. That man is going to go apeshit alpha on you tonight.” He shrugs. “Maybe something to look forward to? Otherwise, I apologize for stirring up a hornet’s nest.”

“He used to be impenetrable. It was nice to see him riled up. And you’re way too good at that.”

Sean shrugs. “It’s both gift and curse.”

“Well, thank you again, Sean, and I hope you have an awesome Christmas.”

“Blinds just parted,” he whispers before taking off my beanie and briefly kissing my forehead. He pulls back, handing me the hat, and grins. “That should finish him off. Merry Christmas, Whitney.”

“Same to you, Sean.”





The King’s Garage tow truck pulls away with the smug prick inside as I toss back the National Lampoon’s moose mug filled with Ruby’s eggnog—which I procured from Brenden. Nog I’ve been slurping repeatedly while plotting to exact my revenge by leaving a scathing Yelp review.

Lame as it may be, it’s the only retribution I can think of that doesn’t include jail time for ripping that bastard’s fucking nuts off. I’ve never wanted to swing at another man more in my life than I did when that asshole came onto her like that, taking great measures to make sure I knew he’d been there.

The fact that she had a fling with that greasy-handed douche bag was enough to light my veins on fire and send me straight for Brenden’s go-to numbing agent. After she came inside—trash bag full, smiling from her driveway run in—she went straight back to decorating the tree. I took a corner with my moose tumbler remaining visible enough to be considered present but far away enough not to poison the mood. Lurking in the shadows, I go against my nature and take in another mouthful because desperate times call for alcohol-induced measures. Brenden warned me as he shook a few dashes of nutmeg on my concoction to sip slowly—that his mother’s nog has a way of sneaking up on a guy. So far, the drink hasn’t helped at all to ease the green-eyed-monster-induced Grinch-sized fit festering inside me, urging me to toss the tree out of the fucking window before shredding presents with my teeth.

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