Page 58 of Elf-ish

“Nah.” I sigh, lifting my beer for a sip, before turning toward Maddix and offering a weak smile. “I can handle Aunt Gertie and Gran on my own.”

Any one of the guys would have stood up as my stand-in, but my family would have seen through their attendance. Friends. And that failure would be added to my list of lacking accomplishments. I couldn’t even find a date for a family wedding, other than a pity date with a friend.

I’ll just tackle their disappointment. How so-and-so is a doctor. And Sally Lou Whoever is a nurse. How I am reckless, racing around in ambulances, rushing into situations that might be dangerous. Emergency medicine isn’t for the faint of heart.

However, my job isn’t always a battlefield. It can be filled with sweet elderly people in need, innocent accidents, and the occasional asshole retailer.

Only, he wasn’t an asshole. Not really.

“Hey, Angelica. Thanks for the donation.” Zebb Scroggs’s kind voice has me turning on my stool and facing the former football player-turned-firefighter. “Didn’t know you made that kind of money driving ambulances. I’m definitely in the wrong division in the department.”

He’s teasing because he has more money than anyone in our respective departments. His warm smile confirms the jest, but I’m confused.

“What donation?”

“The one for A Snowball’s Chance.” His dark brows pinch, his eyes questioning me a second.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” I pledged a hundred bucks, which isn’t chump change, but doesn’t warrant the grateful enthusiasm coming from Zebb.

“How much did she give?” Maddix asks.

“Dude,” I grunt, lifting my beer for another sip. None of your business.

“Half a million dollars.”

Because my glass has just reached my lips, I exhale sharply, then inhale too deeply. The first action causes me to spit across the bar, like a loose fire hose, spraying beer everywhere. The other causes me to choke on a nearly nonexistent swallow.

“What?” I spin toward Zebb, slamming my beer mug down and swiping the back of my hand over my mouth like I haven’t been bred with manners.

Zebb leans his six-three form a little closer to me. “Know anyone with that kind of money?”

I lower my head, averting my gaze. Only one person, but it couldn’t have been him, could it? He wouldn’t have.

“I know a guy,” Zebb continues. “Real dick. Used to be my wife’s boss.”

My head snaps upward. Zebb’s wife, Eva, worked at Ashford’s a while ago. A long while ago.

“Didn’t she work for Ashford’s?” Maddix interjects, like he’s read my mind.

I don’t look at him.

Zebb continues. “After she helped raise their sales for eight consecutive years, he accused her of shorting a cash drawer, essentially stealing from the company.”

Slowly, my head bounces, like a Santa bobblehead springing forward and back. Sounds like the man I know.

When I finally look directly at Zebb, his dark eyes lock on mine. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, so be careful around him.”

“Nothing to worry about,” I admit, straightening my back and letting out a long sigh. “He’s already gone from my life.”

Haven’t heard from him since Sunday morning; don’t expect to hear from him again.

“Are we talking about that Jude Ashford guy?” Maddix grunts. “We got a call on him about . . .”

I risk a glance at my partner, whose eyes suddenly narrow, putting two and two together.

“I didn’t know he was in your life.”

I swipe my hands like brushing cookie crumbs off them, signifying how I’m done with Jude. And done with this conversation. Only, sourness fills my belly like I’ve eaten too much raw dough.