Page 7 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Where are you off to?” Clark asked.

She grabbed her purse and jacket off the hook before kissing Clark in a long, lingering meeting of lips. “I’m going to meet up with all the businesses participating in this year’s Christmas activities. I’ll be home this afternoon.”

Clark brushed her hair back, his expression etched with concern. “If you get tired, come home. Make one of the other committee members set things in motion.”

Merry laughed, a light tinkling sound that matched her angelic blond beauty. “You know I’m a control freak and I could never leave this to anyone else.”

“I do know this, but I don’t like to see you stressed.” Clark kissed her again. “That’s all.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I will be fine.” Merry pulled away from her husband and leveled Sam with a heavy stare. “Since I have you, I need bachelors.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“We are having a bachelor auction in a few weeks, and I need all single, non-douchebags on deck.”

Sam snorted. “Haven’t you heard? I’m the biggest douche in Mistletoe.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I need you.” His sister-in-law watched him with big, pleading eyes. “You just have to offer goods or services from your business and a few hours of your time for a short date. Make her smile, maybe share a few laughs, and you can walk away knowing you’ve done your civic duty.”

Clark cleared his throat. “He’s concerned that the ladies of Mistletoe may not find him appealing anymore.”

“Huh? That’s stupid,” Merry said, pointing at Sam. “With that jawline and those pecks? He’d have to be carrying around a serious STD to repel the horny ladies of this town.”

“That is the most horrifying thing I think has ever come out of your mouth,” Clark said, blinking at her. “I’m stunned.”

“Believe me, I’ve said worse, but I know there are little ears down the hall.” Merry took a deep breath and hollered, “Bye, Jace! I love you!”

Thundering boy feet preceded the blur of Jace’s body as he hugged Merry and ran back to his room. “Love you, too!”

Merry watched him retreat with a soft expression, which melted into a serious, I’m-not-taking-no-for-an-answer look when her gaze returned to Sam. “I’m going to include you in the auction, even if you only bring in a small amount. Everything helps.”

Sam scowled at Clark. “Your wife is mean when she’s prego.”

“Don’t blame my pregnancy. My fetus is not the reason you lost your appeal. Women get tired of looking for men and only finding”—Merry glanced down the hallway and lowered her voice to barely above a whisper—“fuckboys.”

“Merry,” Sam said, his voice dangerously calm despite the fury raging below the surface, “I love you as my sister-in-law, but I’m no one’s fuckboy.”

Clark wrapped his arms around his wife’s shoulders and started ushering her toward the door, an apologetic expression directed at his brother. “You should probably get going, babe. Don’t want to keep all the Mistletoe residents waiting.”

Merry stalled in the doorway with a sigh, giving Sam a small smile over her husband’s shoulder. “Sorry, Sam. I know you don’t lead women on. I’m just worried the dating pool in Mistletoe is going to be so low that this whole event is going to flop.”

Sam shook his head. “I’ll do it, but I think you’re selling the men of Mistletoe short. There’s some prime beefcake in this little town.”

“Why do you have to objectify them?” Merry griped.

Sam threw up his hands. “I give up!”

“Alright, honey, let’s give Sam a break this morning. Our son kind of set him up for a rough one last night.”

“What are you talking about?” Merry asked, but the door shut before Sam could hear Clark’s response. He could just imagine Clark relaying last night’s events, chuckling up a storm. Sam waited several moments until he heard his sister-in-law’s car start and then he pulled open the door just as Clark was coming back inside.

“I’m going to take off,” Sam grumbled.

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Clark took hold of his arm before he could get past him, closing the door so they were standing face-to-face on the porch. “I know Merry was giving you a hard time, and last night sounds like a barrel of laughs, but you’re not one to let shit like that get to you.”

“I’m fine, bro.” Clark continued to watch him skeptically, and Sam admitted, “I’m just tired of everyone writing me off because I haven’t wanted a relationship. Some men are just late bloomers, you know?”

“Late bloomers?” Clark repeated, oblivious to anything else Sam said.