by Score, Lucy
“He wasn’t my first kiss!” Sammy shrieked.
“Oh, dear. She doesn’t even remember her first kiss.” Bruce tut-tutted.
Gordon looked perturbed. “Eva and Emma said it was one of your romantic highlights. How could you have forgotten?”
She took a breath and tried to count backward from ten but kept getting distracted by a desire to set all of the calendars on fire. Ryan’s arm tightened around her waist.
“I’m not exactly following what’s happening here,” Ryan claimed. “But I think the two most important things are: the winter solstice already happened on the twenty-first. And you have the wrong nephew. Ryan Shufflebottom was Sammy’s first kiss.”
Bruce chuckled like he’d told a good punchline. “You’re Ryan Shufflebottom,” he said. “And we can’t celebrate the Solstice on the actual solstice because the Wiccans would miss out on their celebration.”
“He’s Ryan Sosa,” Sammy announced.
“Ryan Shufflebottom is my cousin.”
“Son of a biscuit!” Ellery slapped a hand to her forehead. “We got the wrong Ryan!”
“Oh dear. This is terrible,” Willa whispered.
Rainbow held up her hands like she was directing a board meeting. “Let’s all calm down. No harm was done. You two didn’t accidentally have sex and start having feelings for each other, did you?”
Ryan and Sammy glanced at each other and then looked away again. “Of course not,” she said a few decibels louder than necessary.
“Good. We just need you two to stay away from each other until we can get Right Ryan here,” Rainbow continued.
“He’s not Right Ryan! And Sammy is not marrying my douchecanoe of a cousin!” Wrong Ryan shouted.
“I’m not marrying anyone!” Sammy agreed at full volume. “By the way, where is Carson really?”
“A poker tournament in West Virginia with his cousin Myrt Crabapple,” Willa helpfully interjected.
“Hey, quick question. Is Right Ryan an accountant?” Ellery piped up.
“Why does that even matter?” Sammy demanded, pressing her fingers into her eyeballs to make sure they didn’t pop out of their sockets.
With a soft smile, Ellery cupped her black lace gloves to her belly. “Well, it looks like we’re having a little ghoul or goblin. I’m going to need my Masey home more often.”
“Oh, my God, Ellery!” Sammy crooned, temporarily forgetting her anger. “Congratulations! You two must be so excited.”
“Mason needs a partner in his firm,” Rainbow explained. “It’s practically three full-time jobs trying to keep the residents out of IRS prison. Wrong Ryan’s skills make him the perfect fit.”
And just like that Sammy was back to infuriated.
“That’s not actually a thing,” Ryan insisted.
“See! Wrong Ryan knows stuff! Maybe after we match up Right Ryan and Sammy, we could pair Wrong Ryan with Moon Beam Parker. She’s due for a new husband,” Gordon mused, nervously fingering the fringe on his poncho.
Sammy gasped. “Not Moon Beam.”
Ryan let go of her to clutch his temples. “What’s a Moon Beam Parker?”
“This whole situation can totally be salvaged,” Bruce said with confidence.
“No. It can’t. You are hereby ordered to leave me, Ryan Sosa, and any other Ryan alone!” Sammy announced.
Ellery’s eyes narrowed. “Are you both covered in glitter?” she asked, peering at them.
“Does this mean I don’t have to save Carson’s farm?” Ryan pressed.
The Beautification Committee members chuckled. “Of course not! Carson has owned the farm outright for more than forty years.”
“Damn. I was looking forward to ripping you a new one later today,” Ryan said to Rainbow.
“I was looking forward to it too. I’ve been practicing my villain smoke rings,” she told him.
“At least you can quit smoking now that the jig is up,” Ellery said. “Rainbow really went method actor for this role.”
“Tell you what, Ryan. We can still keep the meeting if it makes you feel better. Maybe grab some lunch while you tell me how you shrewdly deduced there was no loan,” Rainbow offered.
“I ran a credit check on Carson. He hasn’t had a loan open with your bank or anyone else in the last decade,” he said modestly.
“Very clever,” Rainbow approved.
Sammy stomped her foot. “No one is having lunch with anyone. I want you to explain how you burnt down a house to get Eden and Davis together, and yet I get some half-assed attempt with mistaken identity!”
Bruce Oakleigh shushed her and looked frantically over his shoulder. The fire—like most secrets in Blue Moon—was a poorly kept one. “I assure you, Samantha, we full-assed this campaign. And I would very much appreciate it if you kept any mentions of any f-i-r-e-s quiet.”
“Sheriff Cardona can spell, Bruce,” Sammy said dryly. “I am very disappointed in you all.”
“Sammy—” Ellery tried.
“Very. Disappointed,” Sammy announced, cutting her off.
“Okay, Sparkle. Let’s regroup,” Ryan said, dragging her a few steps away, leaving the Beautification Committee clucking like worried chickens. “Take a breath and explain to me what just happened.”
She sucked in oxygen as she watched vendor tents going up around them.
There was an empty spot between the vegan wiener truck and the alpaca dung incense stand where her booth was supposed to be.
“Sam.” Ryan gripped her shoulders. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t mean to butt in, but you should keep your hands to yourself, Wrong Ryan. Your cousin might not like it,” Bruce called.
“My hands are the last body parts you need to be worried about where Sam is concerned, Santa,” Ryan snarled.
“Ryan!” she hissed.
“Sammy, since you’re here, we could use a hand putting up the—”
“No!” Ryan cut off Willa’s request. “Sam is not doing anyone else any favors. She’s not lending a hand, helping out, or stepping in. From now on, you people need to give her space to do her things. Better yet, why don’t you offer her a hand?”
“Do you see what I mean?” Bruce clapped his hands in glee. “He’s the perfect town grump.”
“We need to get you in front of Moon Beam,” Rainbow agreed. “How do you feel about excessive gum chewing and inappropriate flirtation?”
“These people aren’t right in the head,” Ryan said, gesturing toward the clump of master manipulators. “Falsifying loan documents and trying to collect on them? Orchestrating some scheme just to get a stranger to fly across the country and get married?”
“Trust me,” Sammy said, pulling him farther away. “It’s not the worst thing they’ve done. Though I kind of expected more out of them. This was a half-assed scheme compared to some of their more recent matches. Usually their efforts are more elaborate.”
“It really was whole-assed,” Ellery called to her. “I’ll admit we had a few shortcomings in our research department. But our whole asses were in it.”
“This is exactly why you shouldn’t get to know your neighbors,” Ryan lectured her.
“They mean well,” she said lamely.
“They just tried to arrange a marriage, Sam. That’s not normal.”
“Hey, I said they mean well. Not that they’re normal,” she countered. “I am so sorry about this. I don’t blame you for booking the earliest flight out of this patchouli-scented loony bin.”
He would, she knew. The BC had just blown their chance of landing a town grump with their botched string pulling. All those maybes from last night couldn’t stand up under the harsh light of morning. It made her feel cold inside. Cold and sad.
“Sam—” Ryan’s phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket. She saw his eyes widen in surprise when he looked at the screen. “It’s one of the partners from the firm.”
“Answer it,” she said, her throat tight.
He looked like he wanted to say som
ething to her, but words weren’t necessary when she saw the conflict written plainly on his face. “Go on,” she insisted, giving him a sad smile.
She watched helplessly as he wandered a few steps away, stopping in the middle of the half-assembled Mistletoe Corner to answer the call. Her heart gave an odd, painful lurch.
She hadn’t even known she wanted a relationship until Ryan and his dirty sheep had wandered into her life.
“Excuse me, Samantha,” Bruce said, trotting over. “Rainbow wanted me to ask you to ask Ryan if he was still going to help us out with our little state audit problem.”
“That was real?” she asked.
His eyes were wide and guileless. “I would never joke about accidentally bankrupting our town, not even for the right match,” he insisted.
Ryan was watching her intently even as he listened to the person on the other end of the call. A partner who hadn’t fought for him or believed in him when it counted. One who didn’t recognize his value until Ryan was already gone. That was the problem. She had. So had her inept, good-hearted, manipulative neighbors. And he was going to walk away from them.
She could read it on his face.
“Sorry, Bruce,” she said sadly. “Ryan’s flying home today.”
“This is a travesty,” the man wailed.
Sammy couldn’t agree more.
“Amethyst and I are not cut out for prison. Orange washes out her complexion,” Bruce muttered as he walked away.
Ryan’s call was over. She held her breath as he returned to her. One last hope butterfly struggling to stay in the air.
“They want you back?”
He nodded. “My clients are unhappy with Bart Lumberto stepping in. The partners think they were too hasty and want me to fly back tonight for a meeting in the morning. A fresh start.”
The last little butterfly in Sammy’s stomach hurled itself into the bug zapper.
“Tonight? Wow,” she croaked. Her eyes were filling with tears. Tears she had no right crying after only a few days. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”
“Corporate accountants aren’t big on the holidays,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
She shook her head and blinked hard. “Congratulations, Ryan. You got what you wanted. I’m happy for you,” she said with feigned brightness.
“Then why do you look like your eyeballs are going to pop out of your head?” he asked. He nudged her chin higher.
“What are you talking about?” she scoffed, looking everywhere but his face. Looking at him would force her to face the fact that she was losing what she’d only just found.
She blinked, and her right eye promptly overflowed. Crap.
“Look at me, Sparkle.”
“No, thanks.” She stared down at their feet.
Again, he took her chin in hand and lifted it. “You’re killing me, Sam,” he said softly.
“I’m not sad,” she lied. “I’m…” Dejected. Miserable. Ruined for all future non-glittery sex. “Happy for you.”
“This doesn’t have to be over. Isn’t that what video calls and plane tickets are for?” he said gripping her arms.
She gave him a small, watery smile. “You work sixty hours a week. I have an erratic schedule. And I can’t stay up late enough for West Coast sexting.”
“I’ll reschedule the meeting,” he insisted. “Those grant applications aren’t going to fill themselves out.”
She shook her head. “This is what you wanted. Losing it showed you how much you loved it. There’s no point delaying it. You need to go home.”
“What about your grants? The wreaths?”
“It’s time for me to face facts. I spread myself too thin and now I’m learning my lesson.”
“I don’t want to leave you like this,” he said earnestly.
“Me? You should be more worried about Bruce. I told him you weren’t going to be able to help with that whole auditor thing.”
The man in question was behind them loudly lamenting his fate to the vegan wiener lady.
“Sam,” Ryan began. “I’m not ready to say goodbye to you.”
“Doc!”
They both looked up and spotted Sheriff Donovan Cardona jogging toward them across the park.
The Beautification Members scattered like cockroaches.
“Just got a call from Animal Control over in Lewisberry,” Donovan announced. “Hoarding situation on a farm. They need help triaging the animals.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Sammy told him. “Tell Rainbow I’m canceling my booth for tonight. She’s hiding from you behind that tree.”
Donovan gave her the thumbs up and hurried off.
She took a breath before she turned back to Ryan. “These situations take a while to sort out. Can you find a ride back?”
He nodded, then reached for her hand and held on. “I meant what I said. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
“Me neither,” she admitted softly. “Maybe it’s for the best. Less time to make it awkward.”
Ryan sighed and stroked his knuckle over her cheek. “You’re one of a kind, Sparkle.”
“I hope you get everything you want. Give ’em hell.” She rose on tiptoe and pressed a soft kiss to his stubbly, sparkly cheek. “I’ll think of you every time I see glitter. Goodbye, Wrong Ryan.”
He shook his head as she stepped back. “I’ll see you around, Sparkle.”
With a sad little wave that almost broke her heart, she turned and started to jog after Donovan.
To: Beautification Committee Members
Subject: Operation Wobbling Osprey
Dearest Beautification Committee Members,
* * *
We have hit a tiny, insignificant snag in Operation Wobbling Osprey. Not to worry! We will have everything sorted out in time for tonight! Don’t forget to share your favorite nude photos of fellow committee members on your social media to increase sales of our fundraising calendar!
* * *
Bruce Oakleigh
* * *
P.S. If any of you are willing to spend the next eighteen hours working with some very fun and exciting paperwork, you will be excused from your booth shift at the Solstice.
26
Ryan watched the Volkswagen Bus Lyft pull away from Carson’s farmhouse.
He waved at Fitz, the skinny driver with the receding hairline compensated for with a foot-long rat-tail down the back. Fitz tooted the horn a little too hard. It got stuck and blared the entire way down the lane.
Stan trotted over to investigate a spot under one of the big pine trees in the yard. Only in Blue Moon would an Lyft driver not bat an eye when the passenger requested a pick-up for a sheep.
Ryan kicked at the bottom step and looked up at the cozy, white farmhouse. The snow was almost completely melted, but the heavy clouds above hinted that there was more to come. He most likely wouldn’t be here to see it.
He’d be on his way back to normal.
So why wasn’t he jumping up the stairs two at a time and throwing his shit in a bag? Hurrying back to the life he’d missed?
Back to anonymous neighbors. Back to co-workers pitted against each other, kicking and scratching their way to the top for sport.
All for what?
He glanced around. There must be something stupid in the air on this side of the country, he decided. The competitiveness had never bothered him before. Neither had the toxic leadership or long hours behind a desk that ate away at his life outside the office.
It was still what he wanted. Still what he’d planned for. It was still better than some arranged marriage by a deranged nudist colony. Even though the bride was Dr. Sammy Ames, a woman he hadn’t known he’d been looking for.
Ryan’s Newest Plan
1. Book the ticket.
2. Pack his bags.
3. Steal a casserole out of Uncle Carson’s fridge for the road.
4. Leave Blue Moon… and Sam in the rearview mirror.
Sam. Pictures of her flipped through his
mind like a collection of Polaroids. Her amusement with his hangover. Those big lavender eyes full of anxiety when he held up that fat stack of paperwork. Her face softening with pride over her horse’s growing confidence. Her body spread out under him, naked and needy.
“I need you, Ryan.”
Those words had filled a hole inside him he hadn’t known existed.
Instead of going inside, he veered off toward the barn. He would at least bring the chickens in to roost so Sammy wouldn’t need to do it that night. She’d be tired after a long, hard day. Disappointed in herself for not finding a way to make it all work. Dejected at failing. And he wouldn’t be there for her.
He’d seen the pang in those blue eyes just before she covered it up. The realization that there would be no grants this year, no wreaths, no booth, no fundraiser. Everything she’d hoped for had been swept off the table in one fell swoop.
Meanwhile, he’d gotten everything he wanted. A reprieve from the tailspin of the unknown. A second chance at his old life.
His clients hadn’t been “impressed” with Bart Lumberto in Ryan’s week-long absence. That’s how Randall Finnegan, senior partner, had put it in the phone call. The firm had been “too hasty” in their decision to let him go and would welcome him back. It wasn’t exactly the groveling apology he’d fantasized about immediately after his unceremonious firing. However, it would put him back where he belonged.
Sammy had lost, and Ryan had been victorious. Yet they’d both go home tonight alone.
And that felt wrong.
Instead of heading to the door of the barn, Stan disappeared around the side.
“Don’t even think about running away,” Ryan called.
He followed the sheep’s path past the open bay of rusty equipment and around the far side. Stan hadn’t gone far. Tail flicking, he stood in front of the first of several short, neat piles of cut Christmas trees wrapped with green tarps.
They’d be going to waste, Ryan realized.
Just like the Beautification Committee’s bizarre, convoluted plot.
