Page 20 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Honestly?” Carl cleared his throat before bailing out of the booth with a “bye” over his shoulder.

“Someone should let Mr. Bevin know that his identity’s been stolen,” Wren muttered.

“What did you say to him?” Larry asked, coming up to the table.

“Politics, Larry. Never discuss politics or religion on a first date. Doesn’t end well.”

Chapter Eight

The next few days flew by for Sam. The holidays were filled with nostalgia, and people used it as an excuse for new tattoos and body piercings. It was their gift to themselves. Something they felt they deserved. While he wasn’t sure that was true, Sam wasn’t going to argue with them. He was so close to having enough money for his own shop, after nearly five years of saving. After he’d been screwed over by his former boss and had his savings stolen from him, he was nearly ready to follow his dream and have it realized.

Although other businesses were closed on Thanksgiving, Sam planned on going in to work later, after he finished dinner at the Winters’ house, to handle a couple of his regular clients who wanted some work done. Thanksgiving had never been a big draw for him. He was more of a summer holiday guy. Give him Memorial Day weekend and the Fourth of July where there was outdoorsy fun. Christmas wasn’t so bad, especially since his nephew had come along. He loved to go overboard for Jace, because kids were what made Christmas magical: their belief in the fantasy, and the joy and excitement on their faces.

Soon, he’d have a new little niece or nephew to spoil, and then, when his other friends started having babies, he would get to be the fun uncle to them, too. The cool one.

Why did that sound like such a lame prospect? When they became teenagers, would he still be cool? Or would he be the weird uncle who couldn’t find a girlfriend?

It wasn’t that he set out to avoid relationships. In his early twenties, he’d had a couple of good ones, but he was still figuring out who he was, and the women had been ready for next steps. Suddenly, he was in his thirties and trying to get his dream off the ground before he added anyone else to the mix. When his chance at owning a business crashed and burned the first time, he’d had tunnel vision about getting back on track, and now . . .

He was the relationship pariah.

Sam sat off to a corner of the Winters’ living room with Pike, drinking a beer and watching the happy members of the Winters family laugh and talk together as they set up for the Thanksgiving meal in the dining room. Although he wasn’t directly related to them, the family had opened their guest house and home up to him with open arms. They were some of the kindest, most empathetic people he’d ever met, and he was thankful that his little brother had found a wonderful wife who made him happy with a supportive family that would make all the difference in his life.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Victoria Winters said, gathering a second plate in her hands. “I promised I would deliver dinner to the station for the officers on duty. It stinks to have to work Thanksgiving.” Victoria looked around the room and asked, “Would anybody be willing to drop these off at the police station for me?”

Maybe Wren was working, and they could chat a little more about what she’d been up to. Plus, seeing her pretty smile would bring a little sunshine to this average day.

“I’ll do it,” Sam called, getting up off the couch and taking the leftover three-quarters of his beer to the sink to dump.

“Great! Thank you, Sam.” Victoria pointed to the beer bottle in his hand. “That’s your first, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. I don’t drink and drive.”

Victoria gave him a hug. “That’s because you’re a smart man.”

“You are the only woman who thinks that, but I appreciate it just the same.”

“Oh stop. You just haven’t met the one yet, but when you do, she is going to see all that good stuff you bury under that devil-may-care charm. Do not sell yourself short.”

“Victoria, if you don’t stop flirting with that man, I’m going to run him out of here,” Chris Winters said, standing over the beautiful, brown turkey with a carving fork and knife in his hand.

“I am not flirting with him. I am bolstering his ego after that late-night radio show trampled all over it.”

Sam winced. “You heard about that?”

Chris scoffed. “Course we did. However, Sam’s confidence is bulletproof, so you can stop laying it on so thick. Bad enough I got to deal with him buttering you up all the time.”

Sam chuckled. “You sure you don’t got another single daughter hanging around here, Chris? Because having you for a father-in-law is at the top of my bucket list.”

Declan Gallagher moved his girlfriend, Holly Winters, behind him, fixing Sam with a menacing scowl. “Nope.”

Holly peeked around Declan’s shoulder, her brown eyes sparkling as she kissed his arm. “Declan, are you still worried Sam is going to steal me away?”

“Of course he isn’t,” Sam said, winking at her. “He knows I’m not surly enough for you, but he continues to pretend he’s jealous because it makes you smile.”

Holly smacked Declan’s arm. “Is that true?”

“No! The man is full of bullshit!” Declan’s lips twitched slightly, as if he were fighting a smile.