Page 11 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Wait—” Sam stepped forward, taking his hands out of his pockets, and her breath caught in her throat. What was he doing? He wasn’t going to hug her or something, was he?

God, I bet he smells fantastic still— No, stop! It didn’t go well the first time around. There’s no need for a repeat.

He didn’t come any closer than that, and she waited silently for him to finish, ignoring the voice in her head arguing that they’d been kids. That if he wanted to get coffee or something, they were older and wiser now. They could be cordial. They could be . . .

Friends?

“What is it, Sam?” she said impatiently, the thought of being Sam’s buddy, listening to all his conquests and mistakes, made her stomach twist in disgust.

Sam swallowed, his gaze sweeping over her face before he shrugged. “Be safe out there.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

As she was climbing into the cruiser, he called out, “I’m glad you got everything you wanted.”

Wren reeled back like she’d been slapped. “Everything I wanted?” What was he talking about? She’d wanted to go to college and get her criminology degree, maybe go into the FBI. She hadn’t wanted to jump around to different states, starting over at each precinct. She especially hadn’t wanted to get shot and end up alone, back in Mistletoe.

“How do you figure that?”

Sam held his hands up, taking a step back. “Whoa, why are you jumping on my ass for being friendly?”

Because when I was sixteen, I saw my future with you? Perhaps ‘everything I wanted’ was a career and a life with the guy I loved? Instead, I’m back in my hometown, the one thing I want within my grasp, but I’m unable to take the leap.

Not that Wren was going to pour her soul out about her childlessness to Sam. He’d probably gag like a teenager who heard something distasteful.

Wren snorted. “Maybe because I can’t figure out whether that was sarcasm or an accusation.”

“It was neither,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “You’re here in Mistletoe, following in your father’s footsteps, just like you—”

“I’m in no way like my father, but obviously the rumors about you are true,” she snapped.

He crossed his arms over the red of his jacket, the white T-shirt poking through. “What rumors would those be?”

“That you’re a world-class jackass that deserves to be alone.” Damn, she’d really come out swinging on that one.

Sam nodded, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Well, if that’s my issue, what’s your excuse for being single?”

Wren didn’t answer, wanting to escape the escalating situation, which was bringing too many unresolved feelings to the surface. She unlocked the car door and climbed inside.

“You’re just going to bail without finishing this conversation?” Sam called out.

Wren didn’t bother rolling the window down to respond. “No point in rehashing something dead and buried,” she said before putting the car into gear and pulling out of the parking lot.

“You know, that was unfair of him,” Peeper said from the back seat. “Many women are alone by choice—”

“Not. Another. Word.”

“Roger that.”

Wren let it go. There was no law against being annoying, unfortunately.

If there was, Sam would be sitting in the back next to Peeper. He didn’t know her, hadn’t spoken to her in almost twenty years, and she was damn sure there weren’t any rumors racing around town about her.

She really should have stuck to her initial instincts and stayed the hell away from Sam.

Going forward, Wren would do just that.

Chapter Five