The Mistletoe Kisser: Blue Moon #8

by Score, Lucy

  Ryan grabbed it and tucked it back in place.

  “We’re about to have sex. This better be good,” he announced.

  Ellery clapped her hands in glee. “See? We totally needed a town grump! Everyone is going to love you. I am so excited this worked out.”

  Sammy put herself in front of Ryan, who looked like he was ready to slam the door in Ellery’s face.

  “This didn’t work out,” Sammy reminded her. “You got the wrong Ryan.”

  “Oh, sure we did,” Ellery said with a wink. “Silly us! Anyway, I wanted to give you both your Christmas present in person.” She held out a flat package wrapped in black paper with a silver-and-black bow.

  With more than a little reticence, Sammy accepted it.

  “Ellery, go away,” Ryan insisted.

  “Not until you open your gift,” she said firmly. “It’s the least we could do since you pulled your accountant magic and filed that audit extension for the town.”

  “You did?” Sammy asked.

  “It was one dumb form,” he said dryly. “Blue Moon has three months to compile the reporting to the state with no penalties if everything is in order.”

  “I can’t believe you did that for us,” Sammy said.

  “Yeah. Yeah. I’m a hero,” he said. “Now open this damn thing so we can get back to being alone and almost having sex.” Ryan slipped his fingers in the seam of the wrapping paper and shredded it open.

  When the gift came into view, Sammy nearly dropped it. “Oh God.”

  “It’s your very own Beautification Committee Nude Calendar,” Ellery said proudly. “We’ve raised almost $800,000 so far. Just imagine the matchmaking resources we can afford now.”

  Sammy was imagining, and it made her feel a little ill.

  “Great. Bye, Ellery,” Ryan said, trying to shoo her out of the doorway.

  “Oh, baby brain!” she said, tapping her forehead. “I almost forgot to thank you for taking care of Edgar for me.”

  “Edgar?” Ryan was incredulous.

  She whistled, and Stan the sheep trotted up to the door. It baa-ed and flicked his tail in greeting.

  “You didn’t!” Sammy brought her hands to her face, forgetting she was holding the calendar. The view of Gordon Berkowicz’s flat white ass on the cover had her losing the blanket again.

  “Aww! Look at those love bites,” Ellery said, staring at Sammy’s chest. “Nice job, Ry. High five.”

  Scrambling, Ryan grabbed Sammy around the waist and tucked her behind his back. “You listen here, Queen of the Damned—”

  Ellery curtsied. “Aww, thank you! How sweet!”

  “Not a compliment.”

  Ellery shrugged. “Agree to disagree.”

  “Wait a minute. Did Dr. Turner even have food poisoning?” Sammy asked.

  “Nope. He’s vegetarian, by the way. No hot dog eating contests for him,” Ellery said with a smug smile.

  “I can’t believe this. I almost ran over that poor sheep just so you could pull strings?” Ryan was getting himself worked up. “What kind of a fucked up—”

  “Don’t be silly,” Ellery said, waving his concerns away. “Edgar was never in any real danger. We had Ernest Washington rig the front sensor on your little tiny car while you were inside. You didn’t get within six feet of my sweet little sheep.”

  “But the thump? The limping!”

  Sammy put her hand on Ryan’s back to calm him.

  “Wilson Abramovich is an excellent shot with a water balloon, and sheep are very intelligent. You can train them to do tricks just like horses. Watch. Hey Edgar, limp!”

  The sheep toddled down the walk toward Ellery’s jacked up hearsemobile, limping like he’d broken his leg.

  “Good boy! Now play dead!”

  Edgar flopped over on his side and rolled until all four hooves were in the air.

  “He’s so smart, isn’t he?” Ellery beamed.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Surprise had Ryan bobbling the pillow and dropping it.

  Ellery’s eyes widened as she took in the view. “Mazel tov, Sammy! I’ll let you two get back to it. Merry Christmas, guys. I’ve got to get Edgar home, and I need to swing by Moon Beam’s place. Rumor has it Subpar Ryan spent the night, and the Beautification Committee wants to confirm its first two-fer.”

  “Mazel tov,” Sammy croaked. “Happy Solstice.”

  Ryan grabbed the pillow and covered his nether region.

  “Oh! One more thing,” Ellery said. “Eden asked me to let you know that she just had a few last-minute reservations at the inn. It sounds like Ryan’s family is in town. His mom said something about Ryan calling her and telling her he’d gotten fired and quit and fell in love with a girl. They’ll be by this afternoon to meet Sammy and assess you for a mid-life crisis.”

  “You told your mom you were in love with me before you told me?” Sammy asked him.

  “Technically, I still haven’t told you I’m in love with you because I’m waiting for the right moment. Preferably after we’ve known each other longer than a week,” he said dryly.

  “It does seem awfully irresponsible of you to fall in love with me that fast,” she agreed.

  “Are you trying to say you’re not in love with me?”

  “Of course I’m in love with you,” she scoffed. “But I’m the romantic. It’s expected from me.”

  “Well, it sounds like you two have a lot to work out here. So I’ll be on my way,” Ellery said, turning to leave. “Oh, gosh. I almost forgot. Sammy, your parents just arrived in town, too. Your mom skipped brunch with the Secretary of Agriculture, and your dad brought a copy of Die Hard. They’re looking forward to seeing you tonight.”

  “Is it too early to start drinking?” Sammy murmured.

  “How soon does the liquor store open?” Ryan asked.

  They stood there watching Ellery as she unfolded a ramp from the back seat and guided the sheep up into the vehicle.

  She tooted the horn, an oddly cheerful funeral dirge, and drove off.

  “Was that a hearse?” Ryan asked.

  “Yep.”

  “With reindeer antlers and a red nose on the grill?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And she planned this entire thing?”

  “It would appear so.” Sammy sighed. “You changed your mind, didn’t you? You’re rescheduling your flight in your head right now.”

  He threw the pillow over his shoulder and reached for her. His hands were hot, his grip firm. “It’s gonna take more than a handful of Machiavellian hippie manipulators to scare me off.”

  “Good,” she breathed. “Because there’s more than a handful around here.”

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah?” she asked breathlessly.

  Ryan pointed up. Hanging in the doorway was a sprig of mistletoe. “Let’s make it official.”

  “How many of these did you hang up?” she asked.

  “One in every room.”

  She beamed up at him as she looped her arms around his neck. “I’m looking forward to that reasonable six-month timeline to tell you that I love you, Wrong Ryan.”

  He slid his hands down to cup her butt. “Six months was more of a place to start negotiations. I don’t see anything wrong with moving up the timeline.”

  With a soul-deep smile, Sammy rose on tiptoe and kissed her Mistletoe Kisser as the snow fell outside.

  To: Beautification Committee Members

  Subject: Operation Wobbling Osprey

  * * *

  Dearest Friends,

  * * *

  We have once again brought love to our little corner of the world. Not only did our primary match stick, we also achieved our first ever two-fer thanks to Moon Beam Parker and Sub Par Ryan. Our karmic rewards are many. Including the $789,425 we’ve raised in online calendar sales.

  Enjoy your holidays. The matchmaking begins fresh in the new year!

  * * *

  Happy Holidays and Ever Afters,

  * * *

  Eller
y Cozumopolaus-Smith

  Epilogue

  One year later

  * * *

  “Babe?” Sammy called as she let herself into the house. “I’m home. It was a false alarm. The goats were fine. You’d think Jax would know by now when Thor is faking a limp for attention.”

  She managed to shuck off her boots and put them on the tray just inside the door before a blur of fur and paws raced down the stairs to greet her.

  “Yes. Hello. It’s been a whole hour since I’ve seen you,” she crooned, ruffling Sergeant Powell’s fluffy face. Sixty-five pounds of mutt scrabbled at her legs, deliriously thrilled to see her. “Where’s your daddy?”

  Holly the cat meandered by, shooting her a disinterested look.

  Sammy looked up expecting to see her grumpy boyfriend standing in the doorway to his office, the former sun porch. But he wasn’t there. The house was also tidier than when she’d left. Fresh wood crackled and split in the fireplace. Neat stacks of glasses and dishes lined the buffet in the dining room. And the pot of corn chowder that she was going to start when she came home simmered on the new range.

  A year later and she was still tickled by the fact that Ryan’s favorite way to spoil her was to chip away at her chore list. His patented “useful romance” had made Eva Cardona’s latest grumpy hero a huge hit with readers.

  “Ryan?” she called.

  McClane poked his head out from under the Christmas tree, then returned to batting at a cat ornament.

  Instrumental Christmas music played on the wireless speakers Ryan had insisted on during the spring renovation.

  She really only had to open some wine, pull out the appetizers she’d made, and don her pajamas to be ready for their Christmas Eve Happy Hour. Their second together. Last year, things had been a little awkward, what with Ryan’s family worried that he’d jumped head-first into a life crisis and Sammy’s mother complaining about all the work a farm sanctuary was going to take for no gain whatsoever.

  This year would be easier. Tonight was just friends, and babies, and dogs. Tomorrow, they would enjoy brunch with her parents and head to Philadelphia for Ryan’s family’s festivities.

  The front door flew open behind her, allowing a gust of winter air inside.

  Ryan, looking ruggedly delicious in jeans and a heavy farm coat, stomped snow off his boots. “It’s about damn time,” he complained.

  “What? Miss me already?” she teased.

  He looked down at her, gray eyes fierce and hot.

  She couldn’t help herself. She gravitated to him, toward that grumpy mouth of his and rose on tiptoe. He didn’t seem to mind it when she slid her arms around his waist.

  The kiss was hot and hard and over much too fast.

  “Let’s go, Sparkle,” he said, pulling away and giving her arms a squeeze.

  “Go?” she repeated.

  Sarge the dog gave a happy bark and danced out the door on the porch.

  “You and me and Sarge,” Ryan said, pulling her scarf off the rack and winding it around her neck. “We’ve got just enough time for an afternoon ride before we’re forced to spread holiday cheer.”

  He made drinking alcohol and eating snacks in their pajamas sound like a hardship.

  “What kind of ride?” she asked, hiding her grin.

  “The kind where you put your boots back on and we go outside.”

  “Oh. That kind of ride.”

  One of the best surprises of the past year was just how involved with the sanctuary Ryan got. He didn’t just keep the books. He fed the animals. Shoveled manure. Collected eggs. And, yes, even rode the horses. They had two now.

  Plus four cows, three pigs, two sheep, a flock of ducks that welcomed Willis like family, a pair of cantankerous donkeys, and a three-legged goat named Mabel. Not bad for only having been incorporated for six months.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to use the time preparing?” Sammy asked.

  He glanced down at his watch, then picked up her boots and handed them to her. “Preparations are done. We’re burning daylight, Sam.”

  “Okay. I guess we’re going for a ride,” she laughed.

  She dragged on her boots and let her handsome boyfriend haul her back out the door. The dog trotted on their heels, pausing every few feet to shove his face in the snow.

  He had Magnolia and Teddy saddled and tethered just inside the fence.

  “Wow, you really mean business, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Damn right I do. I’ve never been more serious in my life,” he said, patting his jacket pockets. He seemed tense.

  “Is everything, okay?” she asked, unlatching the gate.

  “Everything is fine,” he said, not sounding fine at all as he untethered both horses. Maggie nudged Teddy, the big chestnut bay, with her nose and snorted softly.

  Sammy gave her mount a pat on the neck and swung up into the saddle.

  “Let’s go this way,” Ryan said, pointing to the north.

  The snow was falling in fat, lazy flakes, landing with a hush on the already white carpet. They rode across the field in silence, Sammy feeling more and more nervous with each creak of the saddle.

  “You’re not bringing me out here to murder me, are you?” she asked suddenly.

  He glanced at her and waited a suspiciously long time before responding. “Why would I do that?”

  “That wasn’t a no!”

  He sighed. “No, Sam. I’m not taking you out here to murder you.”

  Was he breaking up with her? Hadn’t he broken up with his old girlfriend just before Christmas? If he’d orchestrated a romantic snowy ride on Christmas Eve to break up with her, Ryan Sosa was the one getting murdered out here.

  He patted a hand over his pocket again. She wondered if he had a murder weapon tucked inside his coat.

  “You can’t murder me and you can’t break up with me on horseback on Christmas Eve,” she said.

  “Relax, Sam.”

  “You relax. You’re the one who looks like he’s sweating through his long johns.”

  “I’m completely relaxed!” His mount shook its huge head as if to disagree.

  “Oh, yeah. You sound like it,” she scoffed.

  “You’re going to feel like a jerk in about ten seconds,” Ryan warned her as they began to crest the hill. They were heading toward a neighboring plot of land that Sammy had her eye on for future expansion.

  “I find that hard to be—”

  Well, hell.

  “Oh, now you’re quiet,” Ryan teased.

  She was too busy feeling like a jerk as she took in the scene before them to answer. There was a gate in the fence where there hadn’t been one three days ago. Above the gate, carved in wood was a sign that said Down on the Farm. It was wrapped in fairy lights and evergreen boughs. Candles flickered in glass jars in the snow.

  Sarge jogged out in front of them and turned around, his tail wagging.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  Ryan dismounted next to her, then reached up and plucked her off her horse.

  He took her trembling hand in his and led her toward the gate.

  “A year ago, I was fired. Depressed. Pissed off about having to fly across the country to this hippie holiday hellhole,” he said.

  “I remember,” she said, not quite trusting her voice.

  “A year ago I thought what I wanted was a partner. But I found something else. Something better than I ever could have planned.”

  He stopped in front of the new gate and turned to face her. He was so tall and warm and wonderful. Beneath that broody exterior, Ryan Sosa had a soft heart.

  “I found you, Sam.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “I found you, fell for you when I wasn’t even looking. When all my plans had gone to hell.”

  “I was looking for a partner,” he said again. “But I found the love of my life.”

  “Oh, crap,” Sammy whimpered, tears beginning to slip from the corner of her eyes. Her mascara wasn’t going to hold up to this.

&n
bsp; He brushed the tears away one at a time.

  “You took me for a ride and you changed my life,” he continued. “You changed my plans and my path and I’ve been grateful every day since.”

  “Maybe I’m not the most romantic guy out there, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to build a plan together, grow together. So I got you this.”

  Sammy was too bamboozled to be surprised when he didn’t get down on one knee. Instead, he pointed to the other side of the gate.

  “Huh?” she sniffled ineloquently.

  “That acreage you’ve been eyeing for the past eight months.”

  More tears fell, scalding hot on her icy cheeks. “You did what?” This was better, more meaningful than any shiny bauble in a stupid jeweler’s box.

  “Catch up, Sparkle,” he admonished. But his smile was soft. “I bought the land. More land means a bigger sanctuary, right?”

  “That’s right,” she whispered, stepping up to the gate and picturing it. More land. More animals. He just kept making her dreams come true.

  “I believe in you,” Ryan said behind her. “In what you’re doing. And I want to be part of it.”

  She mopped at her eyes and turned around. The “thank you” died on her lips when she saw him kneeling in the snow, a stupid jeweler’s box in his hand.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  Sarge darted between them, flinging fresh powder in all directions. Maggie softly whickered her approval.

  “Samantha Ames, will you marry me?”

  “But… but it hasn’t been two years yet. You have a timeline.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I don’t need another year to be certain. I’ve been certain since last Solstice. I love you, Sam. I’ve loved you since you called me dirty hot and yelled at me over a sheep.”

  She brought her gloved hands to her mouth. “You’re sure?” she pressed. “Absolutely sure? Because I want this. I want this so bad. But if you have any doubts or feel pressured or—”

  “Sparkle, I’m freezing my ass off down here. I need you to say yes so I can stand up, put this ring on your finger and kiss the hell out of you.”