Page 70 of My eX-MAS Emergency

Tristan glanced at me, his eyes grabbing ahold of mine. “I’m all in.”

“Okay,” I whispered. “But on a more serious note, you have to tell me if Steve lives.” I had gotten sucked into Stranger Things, even though it wasn’t my preferred genre. Maybe it was all the eighties references and songs that reminded me so much of my parents. Or perhaps I could relate to a bunch of outcast kids trying to save their town, and the world, against all odds.

“My lips are sealed.” Tristan laughed. “You’ll have to keep watching with Quinn and me to find out.”

“I can’t stand the suspense. Plus, I need to know if I should start a Save Steve campaign or a you-better-find-a-way-to-bring-him-back one.” Seriously, if they killed him off, I was going to be livid and never watch the show again. While they were at it, they had better find him a good girlfriend. If he got back with Nancy, I was going to be ticked.

“You’ll find out,” Tristan taunted me.

I scrunched my face. “I’m going to google it.”

“Don’t you dare. You’ll ruin the fun.”

“Or …” I leaned toward him, giving him my best come-hither look. “I could make it fun and get you to tell me.”

“How fun?” he seductively negotiated.

“I think you know exactly how fun I can be.”

A shiver ran through him, making the car swerve. “Dang, woman.”

I laughed. “I guess that means you’ll be telling me later.”

He flashed me a provocative grin. “I look forward to it.”

I did too, but kept it to myself. I needed to focus on taking Skippy down and saving my sister.

The Red Box Motel came into sight looking as seedy as ever, even though the snow and wind had partially buried it in drifts several feet high.

“I’m going to park in front of the motel,” Tristan said. “I want to be able to get out of here as soon as possible if things go south.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” I agreed. It’s not like many people were out and about, which made it less likely for anyone to spot us. Even if they did, I guess Tristan and I could say we were meeting up there. It would definitely raise some eyebrows, but at least I could keep Stella out of it, which in turn protected Quinn.

Tristan pulled into the lot, doing his best to navigate. Motel management obviously didn’t put a lot of effort into shoveling and plowing.

I took a minute to notice that while Tristan was on edge, he wasn’t frantic like he had been during the puppy rescue. Maybe because this time we wouldn’t be jumping over barbed wire fences and ignoring the No Trespassing and Protected by Shotgun signs. Or maybe it was because he was all in this go-around. Whatever the change, I was glad he was with me. He was like the Dustin to my Steve. You had to watch Stranger Things to understand that hilarious bromance. Their characters were opposite in almost every way, just like Tristan and me, but they worked.

As soon as Tristan got the car parked several spaces away from Skip’s door, he turned to me and motioned with his finger that I should come closer.

I recognized the adoring, bordering on craving, look in his eye. I leaned toward him. “The fun is supposed to come later,” I teased.

He cupped my face in his capable hands. “This is serious business,” he whispered, his breath brushing my cheeks. His lips followed suit and brushed my cheeks next. “Cal, don’t feel like you have to do anything risky in there.” He kissed my nose. “I can handle going to jail, but I can’t handle you getting hurt.” Before I could respond, his lips found mine, like a key to a lock, softly twisting and luring me in before his tongue’s silent invitation came, begging me to open the door. When I did, Tristan’s hands pulled me toward him. His fingers moved up through my hair. The bristle of his cheeks against my skin was a welcome reminder that he was very real. As our tongues tangled, the kiss turned hot and breathy. Electric waves pulsed through my body, making me tingle. Chasing more heat and sparks, I deepened the kiss until he groaned and gripped my hair. The rush I craved came just as I knew it would.

Breathing hard, I reluctantly pulled away from him before it got all sorts of serious.

We stared wide eyed at each other, unspoken thoughts between us piercing my soul. Tristan’s eyes screamed that we belonged together. He wasn’t wrong. I knew that when I was eighteen years old. The question was, This time, could we make it work?

Time would tell. But for now … “It’s time to make Skippy skip town.”

CALISTA

I STOOD IN FRONT OF the metal door to Skippy’s room. Time and neglect had made most of the white paint peel off. In the middle of the door, the number 5 dangled askew from one rusted screw. I looked over at Tristan, standing far enough away not to be seen by Skippy when he opened the door, but close enough that he could tackle the orange man in a few seconds if need be. He looked great in his tight jeans and North Face coat. His sensual kiss still played on my lips, but I couldn’t think of that now. I had to get into character—Calista the Crusader.

“Be careful,” Tristan mouthed.

I nodded, my nerves buzzing from trepidation—and admittedly, excitement. It had been a while since I’d been on a good crusade.

With a deep breath in and out, I knocked on the door with my gloved hand. I immediately heard some rustling. Soon an American accent called out, “Who is it?”

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