Page 5 of Elf-ish

“Anyway . . .” I wave my hand in the air, but Jude catches my wrist, holding it with tender strength in his chilled hand.

That cool sensation that seeped through my glove-covered hand yesterday intensifies with our skin-to-skin contact. His touch feels like the explosion of ice crystals against glass, beautiful while potentially dangerous. The effect should be chilly, but it’s more like a white-hot heat, tickling my flesh, melting me.

Whoa.

Those eyes of his narrow once more as he scans over my face. “You were serious, weren’t you?”

I mean, I was kind of serious. Not that I want a date with him, but I could still use a date for my brother’s spontaneous wedding. The engagement he sprung on the family during Thanksgiving dinner. The way he announced the wedding would take place on December twenty-third. The day before the holiday.

“Christmas Eve Eve,” his sweet but silly girlfriend, er, fiancée, added with a childlike giggle because she’s all of twenty-three compared to my younger brother’s thirty-five years of age.

“It’s the night we met,” Beau simpered, staring at his pretty little bride-to-be with heart emojis in his eyes.

Then they proceeded to make out at the dinner table like porn stars warming up for the first act in a film.

Not that I have any experience with watching porn, but . . . Aunt Gertie took out her phone for a picture while Gran covered the eyes of my youngest nephew sitting beside her. My sister, Christmas, clapped her hands, like a movie clapboard, to break up the scene.

“It’s nothing.” I shake my head, not willing to discuss my non-existent love life with a man who wouldn’t understand lack or love. He could have almost any girl he wanted twenty-years ago, and according to local tabloids, he still does. Case in point, the woman in his office yesterday. He is not a man who struggles to find company.

Tugging at my wrist, Jude only tightens his grip. His larger hand is cool against my suddenly too-hot skin.

“Wait—” He counters the force of my leaning away by pulling me forward, only the door to his room opens at the same time.

I turn my head like the guilty party in a tryst, and Jude drops my wrist as a beautiful raven-haired woman in a hip-hugging skirt and cute little blazer enters the room. The same woman who’d been standing beside Jude’s desk, looking not-so-innocent in relation to Jude’s condition yesterday.

“Oh, Jude,” she cries, rushing to the opposite side of his bed and leaning over him. Gripping his shoulders, she lowers over him in an awkward attempt to hug him.

Jude doesn’t raise his arms.

Instead, he watches me, those icy eyes suddenly wild, shifting side to side like he’s been caught in a compromising position. Almost like he isn’t comfortable being hugged.

Strange.

Still, I’m the odd woman out in this reunion. Taking a giant step back from the bed, I mutter, “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Our eyes are locked on one another’s as the dark brunette slowly pulls away from Jude, glancing at me like she didn’t even notice I was standing here upon her entrance.

With another forced smile, I shake my head, ridding it of images of what she might have been doing with Jude yesterday when his heart broke.

Doesn’t matter.

In no time at all, this man will be up and at it with her again. His heart fully restored, whatever size a grinchy man’s heart is.

On that note, I see myself out.

chapter 3

[Angelica]

Standing in the middle of Ashford’s on a Sunday was the last place I wanted to be on my day off. But seeing as I had a Christmas list a mile long, and I’d do anything for Aunt Gertie and Gran, I’m here.

The retail destination is dripping with holiday decor. Vibrant red carpet covers the classic tile. Dozens upon dozens of evergreens decked out in silver and gold ornaments are on raised daises. Garland drapes around register counters. Giant brass trumpets line the ceiling in the entry and practically bleat a holiday greeting despite being ornamentation. The glitter and glitz are almost spellbinding.

And I’m taking that moment I didn’t get the other day when I entered the iconic store to stand in the exact center of the first floor, looking up at the glass-domed ceiling, some eight stories above me.

It might be dangerous to stand still in the middle of a busy location, people bustling by me with bags hanging off wrists and phones in hands, oblivious to others with their minds focused on their own holiday lists . . . but I take this minute for myself.

The intricately designed gold railings surround each level as the store climbs higher and higher are mesmerizing. Their color is reminiscent of a long-gone time. The sensation is almost dizzying, and my body sways a bit, but I don’t stop staring once I reach the almost crystal-like dome, highlighted by the winter sunshine outside. Rays beam down toward me like being here is a religious experience, not a shopping nightmare.