Page 105 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

Robert patted Sam’s shoulder. “I hate to break it to you, son, but if you’re gonna be a police officer’s wife, or I guess in your case, husband, worry comes with the trade.”

Wren jerked at the mention of marriage, but Sam was still watching her intently. “Who was your backup?”

“Barret.”

“Why didn’t you let him go in and de-escalate the situation?”

“Because I was the senior officer with more experience in high-stress situations.”

Sam turned around and took three deep breaths before she heard him counting quietly.

“Hey, you’re giving him the same headache that you give us.” Pete laughed. “You’re part of the family, Sam.”

Wren flipped her brother off, and Sam stood up straight. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” He walked out the front door, and Wren watched out the door as he started kicking at the snow on the ground and cursing loudly and fluently.

“I remember the first time someone took a shot at me,” her dad said, standing over her shoulder. “I didn’t think she was going to let me out of the house again.”

“I better go talk to him,” she murmured.

Wren stepped outside onto the porch, coming up behind Sam and wrapping her arms around him. She pressed her cheek against his back and whispered, “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

“How am I going to be okay with you putting yourself in dangerous situations, especially if we have children?” he asked, his voice gravelly. “Mistletoe is quiet, but the quietest communities can be shaken by violence every single day.” His hands came up to cover hers, and he squeezed them. “I don’t want to get a call that something happened to you.”

Wren pressed a kiss into his back. “I can’t promise you won’t get that call.”

Sam turned in her arms and held her tight against him, his body trembling. “I’m going to worry every single time you walk out that door, but my biggest issue is that you didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her hands over his back soothingly. “I won’t lie again, even by omission.”

“Thank you,” he said, cupping her face and kissing her softly, briefly. “I know you can handle yourself. I’m not saying you can’t, but I don’t want to be kept in the dark because you are afraid that I don’t want you to be a police officer.”

“So, you’re not going to ask me to quit?”

Sam shook his head. “I am proud of you. You found something that you love, and I will support you in everything that you do.” His hands slid back and cradled her head, his blue eyes boring into hers. “But you cannot treat me like some weak man that you have to coddle and protect his ego.”

“I’m not treating you like that!”

“Good, because I’m not a guy who would be insecure about his wife’s profession. I think it is sick as hell that you kick ass and you have a bullet wound to show for it.” Sam kissed her forehead. “I have the baddest woman as my girlfriend. But yeah, if we are going to do this, then I want to be your equal, talking things through and sharing our fears and insecurities.” He released the back of her head, sliding his hands along her body to her waist. “I want to be there for you, and I want you to be there for me, and I don’t want anything between us but love and trust.”

Wren swallowed, trying to push down the emotional lump in her throat, but it wouldn’t budge. Snuggling into him and wrapping her arms around his waist, she mumbled against his chest, “I promise to always be honest with you no matter how scary the truth might be. I will always treat you like my partner, but more than that, you’re my best friend, Sam.” She pressed her lips to his chest. “My most special, cherished friend.”

“Thank you.” Sam squeezed her to him before kissing the top of her head and then holding her at arm’s length. “Now, if you will, please go back inside and give me a moment to collect myself, because I am still processing you walking unarmed into a bar with a man you suspected had a gun.”

Wren kissed him before doing what he asked.

Sam took another deep breath after Wren went inside, thinking that she was going to be the death of him, when he heard the door open. He turned around, thinking it was Wren again, but it turned out to be Robert. Wren’s father walked down the steps to stand next to Sam, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

“Merry Christmas, sir.”

Robert stopped alongside him, arms crossed over his barrel chest. “Are you gonna make her quit?”

Sam’s jaw dropped for a split second before he protested, “No, I’m not gonna make her quit.”

Robert nodded, still watching him intently. “What about marriage?”

“If she wanted to marry me,” Sam said, acknowledging that this was Robert’s version of the what-are-your-intentions speech, “I would marry her in a heartbeat, but she doesn’t seem to want to go that route.”