Wicked Christmas Nights. Leslie Kelly

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      Then he met the loser, face-to-face, and understood.

      Jude Zacharias was spoiled, handsome and smooth—one of those old-money types whose family name probably hadn’t been tainted by the stench of real work for a few generations. But the main thing about him, the thing that would suck in any girl, was the earnest charm.

      He laid it on thick from the minute he answered the door and saw Lucy. He even managed to work up a couple of tears in his eyes as he told her how sorry he was that he’d let some skank trick him into doing something bad—ha—how much he wished he could take it back and how glad he was that she’d returned.

      Then he spotted Ross, who’d been hovering just out of sight, near the hallway wall.

      “Who the fuck is he?”

      Stepping forward, Ross said, “He the fuck is Lucy’s friend, Ross. We’re here to pick up the package she left behind. Now, would you get it, please? We’re in a hurry.”

      Yeah. Not because he had errands to run, but because he was in a rush to get Lucy away from this prick who’d hurt her, even if it had been her pride, not her heart that had been dinged. Honestly, he’d wanted to rip the guy’s hand off when he’d actually reached out and tried to touch her. Fortunately, Lucy had stepped aside, out of reach.

      The guy’s jaw hit his chest. He gaped, then sputtered, finally saying, “Who are you?”

      Ross looked at Lucy and shrugged. “Is he brain damaged or something? Like I said, I’m Ross. I’m here to make sure you give Lucy her package, and that you don’t try anything.”

      “Lucy, are you serious? Did you bring this guy to throw in my face, make me jealous or something?” He reached for her hand. “Babe, you don’t have to do that, you know I’ll take you back.”

      “Dude, get over it. You’ve been dumped,” Ross said.

      Jude’s glare would have fried an egg. “Mind your own damn business. Why the hell are you here anyway?”

      Lucy stepped between them. “Ross is a friend.”

      “Yeah, sure, right. How long has he been your…friend?”

      She tapped a finger on her lips, as if thinking about it, then cast a quick, mischievous glance toward Ross. “Oh, about an hour now.”

      Jude sputtered. Lucy ignored him.

      “He just wanted to come along in case you decided to be a jerk about my package.”

      The guy sneered. “Oh, yeah? And what’s he gonna do if I say you can’t have it?”

      Ross’s fingers curled into fists and his jaw tightened. He took a step toward the door. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever felt this anxious to punch someone but he didn’t think so. Something about hearing the way this little asshole talked to Lucy brought out the overprotective he-man in him.

      She put up a hand, stopping him. “It’s okay. Jude, please don’t be a pain about this. Can I just have my package?” She reached into her purse and pulled out a key ring. “And here, you should have this back.”

      He snatched the key out of her hand, cast one more glare at Ross, then stepped back into the apartment. He returned a few seconds later, shoving a small, paper-wrapped carton toward her. It was mashed, dirty, slightly torn.

      Lucy stared at it, her bottom lip trembling, then took it. A small shake elicited a tinkling sound from inside. The paper in which it was wrapped was damp.

      Whatever had been inside had contained some kind of liquid. And it was broken.

      “You didn’t,” she whispered, her voice thick. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

      Jude shrugged. “Hey, just figured it must not have been important if you left it here, so I was gonna pitch it.”

      It looked as though the bastard already had. Against a wall.

      Furious, Ross took another step toward him. “You petty little douchebag.” This time, Lucy was too distracted by the ruined gift in her hands to stop him.

      Good. That left Ross free to grab a fistful of her ex-boyfriend’s top and shove him back into his apartment. The guy tripped over a table, stumbling backward a few steps before falling on his arrogant ass.

      “Take another step and I’ll call the cops!” he shrieked. Obviously pretty boy wasn’t used to anybody threatening his perfect, spoiled little self.

      “I could knock out your teeth before they get here,” Ross growled.

      The other guy scrambled backward as Ross stalked him, step by step.

      “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” he said. “Lucy, come on, you know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. It was an accident.”

      “Accident my ass,” Ross said as he leaned down and hauled the guy up by the collar of his J. Crew sweater.

      His right hand curled into a fist but before he could let it fly, Lucy grabbed his arm. “Let him go. Please, Ross, let’s just get out of here.” She cast her ex a withering look. “Hey, he did me a favor. If there was any doubt in my mind that he’s a disgusting, hateful person, this eliminated it.”

      “Babe…”

      “Bite me, Jude,” she snapped.

      Ross grinned, then, for good measure, pushed the dude backward until he hit the couch, sprawling out on it.

      Ross glanced at Lucy, seeing she’d hugged the package to her chest, apparently not caring that it was wet. It was like seeing someone who’d lost their most prized possession. Nobody deserved to be cheated on, humiliated and then, to top it all off, have something important to them shattered. Remembering what she’d said about it being just the two of them after their parents had died, he felt his heart twist in his chest, knowing how much her brother’s gift must have meant to her.

      His own family drove him crazy sometimes—especially his overly controlling father—but he couldn’t imagine life without them. She was so young to bear that kind of sadness. One thing he knew, Lucy Fleming had to be one hell of a strong young woman. And a forgiving one, if she was determined to stop him from kicking her ex’s ass.

      “Please, can we just go?” she asked.

      Yeah. She seemed pretty determined. That was lucky for the ex, even though it didn’t make Ross too happy.

      “Fine,” he told her.

      He took her arm and led her to the door, glancing back over his shoulder before they walked through it. The ex still sat there on the couch, a sneer curling his lips. As if he were the injured party in this whole rotten mess.

      The boiling well of anger inside him had rolled back to a slow simmer, and Ross knew he had to get out of here before it boiled back up. Mr. J. Crew dickhead had finally realized the merits of shutting the hell up, but that look on his face was seriously pissing Ross off. If he opened his mouth again, or if one single tear fell out of Lucy’s eyes, he was gonna go postal on the squirmy punk.

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