Good Elf Gone Wrong: A Holiday Romantic Comedy

“This is a disaster,” I hissed at Dakota as we hid in the pantry.

My cozy gingerbread house evening had turned into a flaming dumpster fire. Hudson had been flirting with Kelly—correction, practically having sex with her at the dining room table—all evening. He’d broken off part of my gingerbread house, and I’d been too distracted by having him that close to me, our hands inadvertently touching every time I added a sugary decoration to the gingerbread house, to even finish the thing.

At the end of the evening, I felt so raw that I just wanted to chuck the whole thing in the fire.

“I cannot have a man in my bed.”

“You slept in the same bed as James,” Dakota reminded me.

“Yeah, but that’s James. James wears long underwear and listens to entrepreneurship podcasts on his headphones. He’s not a man like Hudson is a man. Hudson scares me,” I admitted.

“Like he threatens you?” Dakota demanded. Unlike me, she had taken to the rough-and-tumble New York City life and had no problem charging after pickpockets and screaming at catcallers.

Dakota hefted a heavy mixing bowl.

“Put that down,” I hissed. “It’s not that. He just … he’s always there, in my space, whispering in my ear, his hands all over me.”

I chewed on my lip.

I couldn’t explain to Dakota how Hudson made me feel supercharged, like I was about to burst out of my own skin.

“You’re attracted to him,” my cousin said knowingly.

“No!” I waved my hands. “I mean is he attractive? Sure. Did he help carry all my Christmas trees? Yes. But guys like him? They don’t want girls like me,” I said, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from welling up as I admitted my real insecurities.

“I’m too boring, too doughy, too uptight. He’s going to lie next to me in the dark the entire night wishing he was anywhere else. Just like James did.”

“So what if he does?” Dakota cajoled. “You’re not trying to marry the man. This is part of your epic revenge plan. I’m so glad you’re finally standing up for yourself. I’m here for the karmic destruction. And if you have to share a bed with a hot guy, then that’s worth the sacrifice.” She winked.

My stomach flip-flopped. I should not have eaten all that candy.

Picking up my laptop on the way, I crept back toward the living room, where Hudson was regaling my family with hilarious stories of his time in the military.

My sister, who was back from her romantic dinner with James, hung on to his every word. She also practically hung all over him—sliding her hands up his arms, periodically running her fingers through his hair, doing everything Hudson had told me to do to make my family believe he and I were sleeping together.

I had always envied my sister, how she was able to just claim men, run her thumb over their bottom lip, watch as they turned to putty in her hands.

Hudson and Kelly looked good together.

Maybe they’d fall in love and I could … well, I could get back together with James.

Hudson must have had a sixth sense for being watched, because he turned suddenly, eyes narrowing as he noticed me lingering in the shadow of the doorway.

“You heading up to bed?”

“Yes,” I forced out. “Just looking for Pugnog.” The small dog was lying on his back, snoring loudly in front of the fire. I decided to let him be.

Maybe you could book a hotel. There have to be some nearby that take dogs.

“I’ll come with you.” Hudson stood up.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” I asked my parents.

My mom poured herself more wine.

“You’re both adults.”

Dammit. The one time I needed my parents to treat me and my siblings unfairly, and they flaked out.

Hudson followed me through the dim hallways, the only light coming from the electric candles in the windows. It was a touch I always insisted on because it really made the house feel warm like a cozy home pictured on a Victorian postcard.

Hudson picked up his black bag in the foyer, hefting it easily. The weight of it didn’t put him off-balance at all. He strode through the house after me, footfalls rhythmic, purposeful, like he was heading into battle.

Normally, before I went to bed, I made a midnight snack and had a glass of wine to calm my nerves from the day. I didn’t know how Hudson would feel about that. I didn’t want him judging me any more than he already did.

I gave the kitchen a longing look.

Hudson paused behind me.

“We can take the back stairway,” I said, leading him up the twisting stairs. I’d always loved them as a child. It felt like I was in a whimsical Victorian dollhouse, like the one Grandma Astelle had given me.

Crap.

I froze on the stair. Hudson paused a hairsbreadth before running into me.

“What?”

The word was cool on the back on my neck.

I was a girl who had never outgrown her toys. I still had all of my stuffed animals, my dollhouse, and the obscenely large collection of anthropomorphic mice decorating my room. I loved fairy tales and music boxes, and none of those were the types of décor a man like Hudson would respect.

“I might need to clean up a little bit before you come in,” I said, picking at my nails.

Hudson snorted and pushed past me.

“I have four brothers and was in the Marines. It’s fine.”

I sprinted after him as he headed down the narrow hallway to my room.

“It’s really not. It’s—”

Hudson stood in the center of the hexagonal room and dropped his bag on the pink rug with its subtle flower pattern.

“Do you have sex with all these mice watching?” He reached for one.

I snatched Mrs. Cheese Crumpet out of his hands and placed her carefully back on the shelf.

“I saved all my toys for my future children,” I told him defensively.

“Did you.”

Crossing my arms, I stood protectively near the oversized dollhouse while Hudson slowly made his way around my room, trailing his fingers along the shelves, opening a music box, listening to it play for a moment, taking in the floral wallpaper, the gauzy curtains, the canopy bed with pink drapes, the antique chandelier, and the small makeup table with its matching frilly stool against one of the six walls.

He prowled back to me then knelt down in front of the dollhouse.

“Did you decorate this dollhouse for Christmas?”

“It’s always decorated for Christmas,” I said, using my sleeve to clean a bit of dust off a miniature window.

The mice in their Victorian finery stared back with black bead eyes as his gaze swept over them.

He thinks it’s childish. He thinks I’m childish. Now he sees why James didn’t want to marry me, why he wanted Kelly.

“No asshole comments?” I snapped at him, unable to take waiting for his derision.

Hudson took a step toward me, then past me.

“When we’re alone, I don’t need to play up the sexual tension,” he said simply, reaching for the door.

“What the hell?” he muttered, looking around the doorframe, where there were three hinges but no door.

He blinked at me.

“What the fuck? Where is your door?”

I looked down at the floor, hunching up my shoulders.

“The oldest child is the guinea pig,” I said in a rush, “and my parents wanted to raise respectful children. They didn’t want their kids to run wild like other teenagers. I had brought a miniature waffle iron to school for a history diorama, and my friend had taken it home and forgotten to give it back to me. My parents wouldn’t take me over to her house to pick it up, so I took my bike to get it without telling them. They told me they were very disappointed with me. I argued with them, and they took the door as punishment.”

All those years later, and it still stung. It had been my first and only act of rebellion in my life. Well—I looked at Hudson—not my only.

“Meanwhile my sister ran wild and was given a new phone.”

“Okay,” Hudson said slowly, “but where is your door now?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “They never gave it back, and I never asked.”

“Huh.” He sat down on the frilly little stool, looking like a giant in a fairy castle as he removed the heavy boots.

“And I thought my family was fucked up,” he said as he pulled off his socks.

Having Hudson standing there barefoot in my childhood bedroom, it was too intimate. It was too much. He set the boots by the doorless door.

“The bathroom is down the hall,” I directed, fluttering around the room, trying to do anything to take my mind off the fact that Hudson, with his head almost touching the sloped ceiling, was in there taking up all the space and leaving those ginormous boots next to my reading nook.

“I’ll grab you some clean towels from the linen closet.”

“Thanks,” he said, reaching behind his head to grab the collar of his T-shirt and pull it over his head.

“Oh my gosh!” I clapped my hands over my mouth.

Hudson didn’t seem to notice I was having conniptions as he flexed his shoulders and twisted his torso, stretching. He was covered in tattoos—they trailed up his back and curled around his huge biceps. There was a bald eagle carrying a bomb on his pec and Latin sayings crisscrossed under his navel.

Wintery eyes caught mine. “You can touch if you want to.”

I shook my head, crossing my arms over myself so he wouldn’t see the effect he was having on me.

Hudson caught me as I walked past him, grabbing my face, tilting it up to his.

He’s going to kiss me! I shrieked internally.

The kiss didn’t come.

Instead Hudson inspected me coldly.

“You need to get with the plan, because pretty soon you’re going to have to suck my cock in your mom’s living room under the Christmas tree if you want people to believe we’re together.”

There wasn’t a shred of desire in his eyes, just cold, calculating professionalism.

“Otherwise, eventually, your sister’s going to think something’s up.” He released me, and his hands went to his belt.

I immediately clapped my hands over my eyes.

“You are so bad at this.”

I could hear the humor in his words.

“I’m going to go find you a towel,” I said, heading for the door but instead banging my hip into the side of a bookcase. “Ow!”

Hudson’s hand was steadying on my shoulder.

“I think I can manage.”

I waited for his footfalls to leave the room then peeked through my fingers.

Blessedly alone.

I turned around one dowager mouse with a large black hat, who was glaring at me disapprovingly, to face the bookshelf wall.

If only Hudson hadn’t just gone to shower but instead left. Then I could watch a Christmas movie on my laptop and write in my Festivus journal to try to calm down.

My fake boyfriend was going to be back any second.

I left my laptop closed on my desk and quickly unbuttoned my blouse. I had showered after returning home from setting up the Christmas trees. Since Hudson was currently in the shower and wasn’t going to pop out of the floor, cock erect, I used the opportunity to change out of my clothes.

I loved Christmas, and that extended to Christmas PJs. The ones I put on were decorated in happy bear families sledding, exchanging presents, and making cookies.

I grabbed the covers to climb into bed … my childhood bed … a bed not made for two grown adults, one of whom was a six-foot-five man built like a tank.

The bay window on one wall of the room had a small reading nook. I’d added oversized pillows to make it comfy. Sure, I wasn’t ten years old anymore, but I would survive a cricked neck if it meant I didn’t have to sleep next to Hudson.

“What are you doing?” His deep voice echoed around the room, making me shiver.

“Just … uh …”

Hudson was standing there in the doorway in nothing but dark-green silky shorts that ended right below his crotch.

Think the offer to touch is still on the table?

“You’re supposed to be tempting Kelly, not me,” I croaked out.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Sugarplum, we’re going to have to have sex, otherwise your grand revenge plan won’t fly.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“I’ll make sure you do.”

“Are we going to have sex tonight? I don’t think I can handle it,” I babbled. “I’m already in my jammies.”

He looked me up and down, taking in the flannel PJs.

“Is that what you wear to bed?”

“These are warm and cozy.”

“You’re a disaster.”

“No. I’m a good hostess. You can have the bed. I’m just going to knit on the window seat.” I held up my overstuffed knitting basket.

His eyes slid over the laptop to the reading nook. Then he advanced on me, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me over to the bed.

“Since you have no door, we have a greater chance of someone looking in,” he said in a low voice. “It has to look real. Get in bed.”

“Right. Yeah, that makes sense. Not a problem. We can split the blankets. You can have the top sheet,” I said, pulling back the comforter, “and I’ll use this fleece throw, and then we can put the comforter on top.”

“Yeah, fuck that,” Hudson said and flopped face down on the mattress, one tattooed arm sprawled above his head.

Was he already asleep? I’d heard those military men could sleep anywhere. I looked longingly to my knitting basket.

“In bed now, Gracie.” His deep voice was slightly muffled by the pillow.

Dammit.

The stuffed animals glared at me reproachfully.

I’m making these sacrifices for all of us.

I gingerly slid onto the mattress and pulled the comforter up to my chin.

The top sheet was half-tangled by Hudson’s feet. I could pull it up, but that would mean I’d have to put my hands dangerously close to his half-naked body.

My ex-fiancé had always slept fully clothed, compared to Hudson, who slept in barely anything.

His body heat radiated from under the covers, making me sweat in the flannel PJs. But I would rather baste than remove a stitch of clothing.

It was my armor.

I was normally a side sleeper. I liked to lie facing the dollhouse and imagine I lived there with my perfect husband and wonderful children while I drifted off to sleep.

I couldn’t tonight; that would put me face-to-face with Hudson.

I peeked over.

His eyes were closed, black lashes fluttering on his cheekbones.

The clock hands on his wristwatch glowed softly in the dark.

I could feel his breath ever so slightly on my hand.

I turned over gingerly, trying not to wake him up, and I huddled as close to the edge of the bed as I could, listening to his steady breathing next to me.

How could that man sleep at a time like this?

Especially after he had just told me we were going to have to have sex.