Page 16 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Yeah, you should get right on that.”

Wren and Duke walked around him, but they only made it a few steps before he called after her.

“Before you go . . .”

Wren stopped and turned. “What?”

“You know what, never mind.” He backed away from her, hands in the air. “It was nothing.”

She started to move but hesitated, swallowing hard. “Sam?”

He paused, watching her expectantly. “What’s up?”

“I really am sorry about last night.” Her stomach twisted painfully, and Duke, as if sensing her discomfort, nuzzled her hand. “You know I didn’t come back to town to wage war with you over things we did when we were both kids. I’m just trying to find somewhere I belong.”

Sam nodded. “I understand that. We should just chalk it up to being two young people, wrong place, wrong time. Romeo and Juliet. Not meant to be.”

“I get the picture,” she said softly.

“There is one thing that’s always bothered me,” he said, watching her so intently that she started to squirm. “When your dad showed up at my house and threatened to have me thrown in jail if I didn’t stay away from you, I was willing to go against him and take the chance. Why weren’t you?”

Wren swallowed. “I guess I thought what we had wasn’t worth you going to jail for. I didn’t want to put you through that, especially when the whole reason he came after you was my fault.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Wren couldn’t tell him she didn’t want to go back to that moment. It was over.

“He read my diary and found out we were sleeping together,” she lied. “If I hadn’t written about it, then he wouldn’t have been able to use it against you.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think your diary would’ve held up in court, especially considering we’re only a year and eight months apart in age.”

“It didn’t matter. My dad would’ve figured out some way to punish me if he couldn’t get to you.”

“That sounds healthy,” he muttered.

Wren shrugged. “He loves me, but he wanted me to make the right choices.” She tapped her shield with a smirk. “I got one thing right.”

“How is your dad doing?” Sam asked, his eyes sparkling. “Still hate me?”

“I don’t know, you’ve probably seen him more than me, but if I had to guess, no. I doubt he hates you. Hell, he’d probably be thrilled if I brought you home.”

“Why is that?”

“He hasn’t quite gotten used to the new me. Single. Independent. Back-talker.”

Sam grinned. “Ah, gotcha. Now I understand his loathing for me. I always talk back, even when I shouldn’t.”

“Shocker,” Wren deadpanned.

“I know, right? As far as seeing him, he mostly keeps to himself since he’s retired.”

“I see.” Wren could just imagine her dad hanging out on his property in the woods like the Mountain Man of Mistletoe, hiding away from the world. He didn’t used to be so bitter, but after her mom took off and all his kids left home, he’d seemed to withdraw from everyone, even Luke. He was her oldest brother, who’d followed in her father’s law-enforcement footsteps, except he became Idaho State Police instead of a county sheriff. While Wren had gone off and taken positions in big cities, Luke had stayed in Idaho and made his career here. Wren assumed her father had heard about her sporadic visits over the last two decades, but besides a hug and a “glad you’re home,” he barely strung a few sentences together, even during their family lunches on Sunday. She’d made it to nearly every one, and they hadn’t seemed to get any less strained.

“Well, my dad’s always been kind of hard to read,” Wren said.

It was true. Her dad kept his feelings close to the breast, but he hadn’t treated her differently than any of her brothers until high school, when she met Sam. It seemed that having a boyfriend had finally woke him up to the fact that she was a girl, and that’s when their relationship changed. Wren had left after high school in hopes that time and distance would heal the rift between them, but as more time passed, the harder it was to come home. It wasn’t until everything in her life had lost meaning that she’d finally tucked tail and dragged herself back home. Even then, it had been less like the prodigal daughter returning and more like an inconvenient truth.

“How are your parents doing?” Wren asked.