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“There is no other damn donor, but you’re in a giant, smelly Santa costume, and you need to change, get your shit together, and gocharmmy sister. You were glaring at her in the middle of the civic center, everyone was whispering, and it sure as hell looked as if the two of you were about to come to blows.”
“Definitely not. I would never lay a hand on her, and you know it.” He hauled off the Santa coat and shoved it into the box that perched on a nearby table.
“Yeah, well, the way to claim her heart isn’t by glaring.”
Had he been glaring? He’d felt more like he’d been drinking her in. Every gorgeous inch of her. In that tight Mrs. Claus outfit, she’d been hot enough to make a man drool. Or beg. Maybe both.
“You need to wine and dine her. I know my sister, she’s all about charm. And it’s the holiday season—she goes crazy for this time of the year. Take her ice skating. Go build a snowman with her. Do somethingmerry.”
Brady ditched the Santa pants. He’d hauled them on top of his jeans, so now that they were gone and he was just wearing his shirt, jeans, and boots, he could head back to Noelle. Provided, of course, that Elliott got the hell out of his way. “You don’t think being Santa was merry?”
“I think she needs more. Ice skating, snowman building, caroling. Those are all things that Noelle likes to do this time of the year.”
“I know what she likes,” he grumbled. He didn’t need lessons on Noelle.
“Sure, you do.” Elliott glanced heavenward with a sigh.
Seriously? “It’s a Wonderful Lifeis her favorite Christmas movie, and it doesn’t matter how many times she watches it, Noelle still cries at the end when Clarence gets his wings and that bell rings.”
“Lucky guess.” But Elliott’s gaze returned to him. “Half the world probably counts that one as their favorite holiday movie.”
Fine. “Purple is her favorite color, she only eats pancakes if they have chocolate chips in them, she dreams of having a Pug named Percival just because she thinks that would becute,and she absolutely treasures this old crystal ballerina that she keeps on a shelf in her bedroom.”
Elliott sucked in a sharp breath. “How do you know about the ballerina?”
“I know because you broke the thing years ago, and someone had to super glue it back for her.” The tips of his fingers had felt weird for days after that incident, thanks to the glue, and he’d thought about decking his buddy more than once back then. “You hit the thing with your hockey stick. You couldn’t play hockey for shit, so you shouldn’t have been lugging it into her room. And you walked out, and shecried.” He hadn’t followed Elliott out. He’d stayed with Noelle.
“I…” Elliott dragged a hand over his face. The green paint smudged. “Our grandmother danced. She gave that ballerina to Noelle.” A pause. “Gram died the year after she gave it to Noelle, and you’re saying…I broke it?” He grimaced. “I don’t remember that. Noelle didn’t say anything to me about it. Jeez, I feel like crap now.”
Why wallow in guilt at this point? “I fixed it. It’s fine.” It had been fine for years.
Elliott squinted at him. “I played hockey when I was in high school.”
“No, correction, youtriedto play hockey. You did not succeed.” He needed to go find Noelle. Since Elliott wasn’t getting out of the way, Brady side-stepped around him.
But, with his expression tensing, Elliott moved into his path once again. “She was ateenagerback then. Younger than us, man. You had better not be saying that you put your damn hands on my sister when she was—”
Oh,now,Elliott wanted to take a punch. “I am not saying any such thing. I fixed her ballerina because I never liked to see Noelle sad.” Not then, and not now. “For the record, I’ve kept my hands off her.”
Elliott breathed a sigh of relief.
“Until last night,” Brady felt duty bound to add. “That changed last night and—”
Elliott’s fist plowed into his jaw.
Chapter Six
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…six seconds of being absolutely stunned. Okay, fine, she didn’t give me that gift. Her brother did…when he punched me in the face.
—Brady
Brady didn’t stagger back. He didn’t even flinch. He did squint at Elliott. “What the fuck, man?Nowyou decide to take a swing at me?”
Elliott blinked. Looked down at his fist. “Oh, shit. Sorry. Reflex.”
“I thought you wanted me to be with her!”
“I want you to marry her, not, not—” Breaking off, Elliott came in swinging again.
