Good Elf Gone Wrong: A Holiday Romantic Comedy

“I thought we were going to a bar. This looks like a place where you lose a kidney,” Dakota said.

“This is the happening spot. Mildred told me that she found two guys for a threesome here. Nothing like cheap alcohol and daddies in leather.” Granny Murray licked her lips.

Dakota and I shot each other looks of horror then ran after Granny Murray as she power-walked up to the door of the dilapidated-looking bar.

My cousin and I had dressed for going to one of the nice but low-key spots on Main Street. We were way overdressed for the Broken Bottle. Some person had hung up Christmas decorations that looked like they’d been in use since the ’80s. The string of tattered Santas hanging from the bar were begging for release from this mortal realm.

I ducked my head down, trying not to make eye contact with anyone as Granny Murray led us to a corner booth.

“I’ll grab us a pitcher,” she said, pulling a fistful of cash out of her wallet. “They don’t take credit cards here.”

Dakota huddled down in the booth across from me.

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that they don’t serve cute holiday-themed cocktails here either.”

“I think you’d be hard-pressed to find so much as a craft beer,” I said.

“I’m surprised you weren’t finishing the pantry sex,” Dakota said with a giggle. “This seems like a downgrade from riding Hudson’s sleigh.”

I chewed on my lip, wishing I had a drink, any drink.

“I don’t think I was quite up to his standards,” I admitted, feeling sick.

“What? You have tits, and you don’t have a yeast infection. What’s not to love? What more does a man need?”

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, I don’t have it. You should have seen his eyes,” I whispered to Dakota. “Hudson was so cold. He looked at me like I was nothing, like I didn’t even matter. Then he just said, ‘I’m going to get laid.’”

“Well, fuck him.”

“We’re not dating,” I reminded her and myself. “Hudson doesn’t owe me exclusivity or kindness. He’s fulfilling a contract. He just did it with me in the pantry because …” The hot wave of humiliation was going to drown me.

“Because he knew James was going to walk in and see. It was a power play.”

“I don’t believe he didn’t find it a little bit hot,” Dakota argued.

I squirmed in my seat.

“Did you feel any poking action?”

I hadn’t felt anything except for his hands giving me the most amazing pleasure I’d ever felt, his tongue on my nipple, and his mouth whispering in my ear all the dirty things he wanted to do to me.

“I didn’t notice.”

“After you get your epic revenge on Kelly and James, you should start trying to date again. The company that made the Meat Market app has a new dating app out for divorced people looking for a second chance.”

Could I go back to dad bods and men who liked missionary sex then watching an episode of Masterpiece Theatre after I had experienced Hudson with his tattoos, his hands, and his male arrogance?

“Maybe I need to give up and lean into my season of spinster auntdom.”

“You’re breaking up Kelly’s marriage, so no auntdom on the horizon.”

“There’s always Piper and my brother.”

“Your brother’s going to get another look-alike VSCO girl in three months, rinse, and repeat until he’s in his forties and has an existential crisis,” Dakota said.

“Fine. I’ll adopt a cat.”

“Not while we’re still living together.”

“Why is my life so horrible?” I groaned.

“Smile, honey. You’re too pretty to look so sad.”

Dakota sucked in a breath to berate the man who had catcalled us.

“Look what I found,” Granny Murray crowed as she and the catcaller, holding a pitcher of beer, headed over to our table.

“These guys want to party.”

“Gran!” I exclaimed, horrified.

I felt dirty as the catcaller and his minions leered at me.

The beer sloshed on the table as the catcaller set it down along with several dirty-looking glasses.

One sour-smelling man scooted into the booth with me.

“She’s going senile,” Dakota whispered to me. “This is the early stages of dementia.”

“Girls, be nice,” Granny Murray chided. “Bertie and his friends just want to have a good time.”

“I have a boyfriend,” I said automatically.

“He’s not your boyfriend. He’s a standing hookup,” Granny Murray corrected.

Had Bertie drugged her drink, or was this what Gran got up to now that she was a free-range woman, as she put it?

“Bertie bought drinks for us. Isn’t that gentlemanly of him?”

Bertie smiled at me. He was missing several teeth.

“Yeah. I’m not drinking that,” Dakota muttered.

“What the hell did you say, you stuck-up cunt?”

“Fuck you,” Dakota enunciated. “I’m not drinking your cheap roofied beer. Let’s go, Gran.”

“You owe us,” Bertie bellowed.

“I don’t owe you shit,” Dakota snapped.

The five men boxed us in at the booth.

I’m never going out with Gran anywhere again.

“Show us your tits, and we’ll let you leave,” one of Bertie’s minions demanded.

“Okay,” Granny Murray said and lifted her shirt.

There were hisses of horror. One heavyset man looked like he was going to faint.

“What the fuck, you crazy old bat? Not you. I want to see her perky nipples.” He pointed at me.

Gross gross gross.

“What’s wrong with my tits?” Granny Murray demanded.

“Everything!”

“Don’t insult my grandmother, asshole!” Dakota shouted.

“We need to leave, Gran,” I said, clutching my purse. “Thank you for the drinks.”

Another balding minion grabbed my jacket.

“We didn’t say you could go. We’re going to have a drink.”

His breath smelled sour as he jerked me to him.

I picked up the beer and dumped it over his head.

“Here’s your drink.”

“You fucking—” He wound back a punch.

I closed my eyes and turned my head reflexively. But the punch never came.

“Don’t fucking touch her.”

“Hudson?” I opened my eyes.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend!” The minion howled in pain as Hudson twisted his arm behind his back and slammed his head into the table.

“It’s complicated,” I said to the red-faced man.

“This isn’t your business,” one of the smelly minions yelled as a chair crashed down on Hudson’s back and neck.

I screamed as blood ran down his face.

“We’re in a bar fight!” Granny Murray whooped.

The man reared back for another hit. The chair crashed against Hudson’s back again, and the leg hit me on the arm. Not hard. Hudson seemed to take the brunt of it.

The balding man used the opportunity to scrabble out from under Hudson.

Hudson kicked him hard in the ribs, and I heard something crunch. His fellow minion took another shot with the chair.

Unfortunately, Hudson wasn’t able to effectively fight them because he kept trying to block anything from hitting me with his body.

You need to do something! I internally shrieked. You’re going to lose him.

I couldn’t lose him.

I grabbed the spilled pitcher of beer and threw the plastic container at the nearest minion, wishing I’d taken a page out of Dakota’s book and bought a Taser.

Bertie was trying to drag Dakota out of the booth while Granny Murray hit him with the plastic pitcher.

Dakota got him right between the eyes with her Taser, but he was built like a beer-soaked ox and was only momentarily stunned.

His friend lunged at Dakota.

“Bitch.”

Before he could touch her, another man—tall, broad shouldered, built like Hudson—came flying in, grabbed Dakota’s attacker around the neck in a chokehold, and pulled him back.

The minion wheezed and flopped around like a fish then went limp.

Was that Hudson’s brother?

His face was partially obscured by a scarf and the turned-up collar on his winter jacket.

Though he moved like Hudson and his brothers—strong, athletic, easily ducking under a flying chair and punching the catcaller in the stomach—he had green eyes, not wintery gray.

He has expensive boots, too, I noticed as one of those boots came down hard on the minion’s knee.

More people in the bar were rushing to join the melee. Hudson jumped up on the table then leapt off, joining the green-eyed man in the brawl.

They both moved like they’d been in a bar fight together before, aware of each other’s movements.

Hudson ducked the punch thrown by a minion and knocked him out with an undercut while the green- eyed man finished off the catcaller by hooking his leg under him and sending him crashing to the ground.

Granny Murray was fending off two men with a broken pitcher and a plastic fork.

She stabbed one in the arm, making him wail.

Hudson grabbed the man by the back of the collar and slammed his head into the edge of the table, sending teeth flying, while the green-eyed man tackled the third attacker. He did some sort of ninja roll thing and sent the bald man flying into the bar.

The minion lay there in a heap.

The bar patrons who didn’t really have a bone to pick backed away warily as the two men stared them down.

Mumbling excuses, the patrons returned to their beers.

I threw my arms around Hudson’s neck.

“You saved us,” I exclaimed.

My heart was still hammering, and I felt shaky and unsteady. I kissed his bruised mouth gently then released him.

“You saved my cousin. Thank you,” I said to the green-eyed man, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “Your poor hand.” I reached for it.

“It’s fine,” he said in a deep voice.

“He has an expensive watch too,” I chattered, not really sure why I was still talking. “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

Gracie, shut up.

It was the shock.

He and Hudson exchanged a look.

The green-eyed man adjusted his jacket and headed over to the bar.

“We need to get out of here.” Hudson took my arm.

“I didn’t get a drink,” Granny Murray complained as Hudson herded us out into the cold.

Hudson grabbed my shoulder.

“What the hell were you three doing here?”

“Picking up men and getting wasted!” Granny Murray hollered.

“All of you?” Hudson raised an eyebrow. “I’d be offended, except you’re so far out of your depth right now, Sugarplum.” He paused as two men passed us, walking up to the entrance.

“You boys looking for some action?” Granny Murray yelled to them. “I’ve been in a bar fight and flashed my tits, but it really seems like you have to put on a whole dog and pony show around here to get laid.” She headed in their direction as Dakota raced after her.

Hudson’s eyes flicked up to the night sky as he tried to center himself.

Through the window I watched the green-eyed man hand a stack of bills to a bartender, who stuffed them under the counter. The green-eyed man turned his head, briefly making eye contact with me.

“Who was that?” I asked Hudson, pointing.

“He’s just … he’s—” Hudson worked his jaw.

“I thought you were going to get laid. Er … wait. Is that your uh, lay?” I asked weakly. My mouth was dry. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I mean, I’m not sorry. That’s great. He seems nice. And handsome. You two are cute together.”

There was a slow grin on Hudson’s bruised face.

“Sugarplum, all I can think about is putting my mouth on your sweet, juicy cunt, but I’m glad to see you’re an ally.”

I gulped. “Let me take you home. I need to put some ice on your face.”

“I think that’s my line.” He tugged one of my curls that had escaped from my ponytail.

“That guy,” he said, nodding to the green-eyed man who was walking quickly out of the bar, hands in his pockets, “is just a friend from work.”

I perked up. “A friend from work? Hi! Merry Christmas!” I called loudly to the green-eyed man, who froze. “Did you like the cookies?”

He seemed confused.

“Hudson, did you give him the cookies?” I demanded.

“I left them at my apartment.”

“Which job is he at? I’m going to bring you some more cookies as a thank-you!” I yelled after the man, who gave me a half-hearted wave. “Hudson helped baked them. He’s a really good baker.”

“Gracie.”

“Is he shy?” I asked Hudson as his friend practically ran to his car.

“I got both their numbers,” Granny Murray crowed as Dakota led her back to me and Hudson. “The one guy has a very nice grandson. Dakota and I are going to double-date.”

“We are not.”

“Where’s your car?” Hudson asked, pressing his fingers to his nose and wincing.

“You’re drunk, and you got hit with a chair. I can drive. You look like you’re in pain,” I said, reaching for his keys.

“Absolutely not.”