Page 14 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

They both laughed as Sam headed out the door, breathing in the crisp winter air. Sam popped out of the alley onto the sidewalk, passing by a few people who smiled and said hello. Even though he wasn’t part of the mainstream crowd that everyone revered, like his brother, Clark, people were still polite.

He’d never been good at fitting in, even as a kid, and had found his people among the loners, the kids who chose art over grades. He’d barely graduated high school, not because he couldn’t do the work, but because he was so done with all of it: his parents, who put on a big show of caring in public but privately treated their two sons like a burden; the teachers, who didn’t care if someone needed extra help with a concept; the cops, who had looked at him like any minute he was going to detonate and take the whole town with him.

Although he was an adult now, Sam still had his own crowd away from the masses. He’d gotten to start over after his world fell apart in Oregon. He got to be with his brother and watch his nephew grow up. All these things were in the plus column for him.

Sam rounded the corner and almost doubled back when he spotted Sally and her friend Tara walking toward him. The door to Kiss My Donut was between him and them, which meant they were going to reach it at the same time. Sally had upgraded her wardrobe since she’d started dating a doctor, her full figure wrapped in a navy pea coat and brown knee-high boots on her feet. Her light brown hair was cut below her chin, curled, and bouncy. Choosing not to date her had nothing to do with her appearance. Sam had the sense that hooking up with her would have caused mountains of drama.

After Sally’s scathing call-in, it seemed either way Sam chose, he had to deal with the fallout. If he’d hooked up with her and walked away, she would have had something to say anyway.

Since when does Sam Griffin run from a fight?

Sam reached the door first and held it open. When Sally caught sight of him, her face paled. She slowed down a bit, and Tara’s brow furrowed until she followed Sally’s gaze and saw him. While Sally was classy in fall colors, Tara wore purple lipstick, her dark hair loose around her shoulders under a black fedora hat. Her black leather jacket, tight jeans, and boots gave off “mess with me, and I’ll put a spell on you” vibes, and Sam put on his difficult-customer smile and nodded. “Ladies. Are you heading in?”

“Uh, yes.” Tara glanced at Sally, who still seemed stunned. “Come on, Sal.”

“By the way,” he said, leaning against the edge of the door. “Thanks for all those honest opinions about me on Friday, Sally. It really opened my eyes to my character’s shortcomings. Especially all those times when I kindly told you I wasn’t interested. I guess I would have been better off sleeping with you and rejecting you afterward instead of being honest about how I didn’t want to tangle with you because I smelled your crazy from a mile away.”

Tara gasped while Sally’s jaw flapped open and closed like a fish without oxygen. Sam released the door, and Tara caught it before it smacked her shoulder, glaring at him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she asked Merry for one of her famous plush voodoo peens later. His sister-in-law’s crafty business venture of adult knitted items included some quirky things like holiday-themed penis-shaped plushies. Holly had an elf one she kept on her shelf in the living room, and the thing creeped him out, its beady eyes seeming to watch him.

“Have a great day, ladies. Stay real.”

Tara dragged Sally inside, and Sam grimaced. He knew it was a dick way to handle things, but women talked all the time about how men couldn’t handle rejection. That rejecting the wrong man could turn out dangerous, and yet, women could tear down not only a man’s reputation but his life.

“Look at you, making friends everywhere you go.”

Sam groaned as he turned around to face Wren, who stood behind him in full uniform with her arms crossed over her chest. A big black and tan dog sat by her side, watching him with—Who knew it was possible?—a matching expression.

Sam imitated her stance, looking down at her from his height advantage. “My friends don’t lie and try to ruin my life.”

“So all those women who called in were lying about your horndog ways?”

“No,” Sam admitted sheepishly before pointing to where Sally had disappeared inside, “but that one was. I politely rejected her last year, and apparently she’s still sore about it.”

Wren frowned. “That’s not okay.”

He shrugged. “It’s over now and not worth any more energy.”

Wren cleared her throat. “About the other night. I’m sorry I made assumptions about you. It’s really none of my business.”

“You mean like me asking why you’re single?” he asked ruefully.

“Maybe we just let sleeping dogs lie and start over?” Wren asked.

Sam nodded toward Duke. “Speaking of dogs . . . Who is this?”

“Duke, but he’s working right now.”

“So, no kneeling and giving him belly scratches?”

“I’m sure he’d love a rain check on that.” Wren’s lips twitched. “As to the lady in question, I’d be angry, too, if I’d heard all the rumors about how good you were in bed, but I didn’t get to find out.”

A surprised chuckle escaped him before he could catch it. “Maybe if she’d had the chance, she’d have been disappointed.”

“Nah,” Wren said, her gaze sweeping him from head to toe. “You were pretty good at eighteen, and I’d imagine you’ve learned a few tricks since then.”

“Pretty good? That’s not exactly high praise.”

“I can only base your score on my limited experience back then. Now, it’s a little different. I’ve learned a thing or two over the years, too.”