Page 56 of Elf-ish

“You have a boyfriend?” My sister corners me before I reach the hallway leading to the kitchen while my arms are full of a tray of coffee mugs.

“What?”

Christmas has red hair like me, but she colors it to a vibrant scarlet shade, which matches the signature color of the holiday season and adds to the mystique of her name. She’s attending breakfast with her three boys.

“That holiday hottie is telling everyone he’s your boyfriend.” She points.

“Gran taught us it’s not polite to point,” I scold her while still turning toward the community room and following the direction of my sister’s finger, which is aimed at Jude, who is pouring coffee and smiling broadly at a seated mom surrounded by three kids. One hanging off her shoulder, one on her lap, and one seated beside her.

He glances in our direction as if he can sense he’s being watched. Quickly, I look at my sister. Her blue eyes are wide. Her smile is deep, but hesitant.

“When did this happen?”

“Nothing’s happened.” I don’t have time to give my sister details, like I normally would, because one kiss and a weekend away does not make Jude Ashford my boyfriend. He was only pretending for the sake of his board members.

I spin for the kitchen, but Christmas does not let up. She follows me. Her boys are seated at a table with a single-mom friend of hers.

“Angelica,” she groans, as I rush into the kitchen and set the tray of mugs near the dishwasher.

“Chrissy,” I counter as she hates her full name, especially at this time of year.

“Why would he say he’s your boyfriend if he’s not?” She stops right beside me. Her hands work faster than I can speak, and I watch as my younger sister takes over, lifting mugs, rinsing them, and then setting them in the dishwasher.

“What are you doing?” I chuckle.

Christmas glances down at her hands like she hadn’t even noticed that she’d taken over filling the dishwasher. “I don’t even know most days.” She sounds weary, and I want to ask if this is about her husband, but she holds up a hand.

“But we’re talking about you.”

“But . . . we don’t need to talk about me,” I argue, gently pushing her out of the way and taking control of the coffee mugs.

“Let’s start with how hot he is,” she continues as if I didn’t just suggest the topic should be closed. “Where did you meet him?”

“Not answering,” I say, forcing the hot water pressure to high as if that will drown out my sister’s questions.

“And how is he so good-looking? He must have a ridiculous moisturizing regimen.”

“It’s called Neutrogena.”

Both Christmas and I shift, glancing at the man standing close behind us.

“Over the counter. Any pharmacy or Target sells it.”

Something tells me Jude doesn’t shop in a Target or use the famous facial cleanser, but still, he’s humoring my sister, who is almost simpering beside me. Dreamy best describes her wide eyes.

“Stop that,” I snap, and Christmas turns her attention toward me.

“What? I’m allowed to look.”

“Not at your sister’s boyfriend,” Jude defends, and I swear I could kiss him. Not that my sister has ever stolen my boyfriend, or lusted after the rare ones I’ve had, but the way Jude refuses to let my sister ogle him, like he really belongs to me, has my pulse racing.

Feeling chastised, Christmas holds her head higher. “You’re right. I’m Christmas, by the way. Angelica’s sister.” She extends her hand, and Jude glances at me first before shaking hers, like he wants my permission to touch her, which is all kinds of strange and a little bit hot.

Then I remember the single mom in the community room and Jude’s smile at her.

I turn away while Jude introduces himself to my sister.

“I guess I’ll be seeing more of you,” Christmas says it like she’d love to see more of Jude’s body, but I know she doesn’t mean it that way. Not after Jude just put her in her place. She’s acting so weird.