Page 8 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Stop acting like you can’t understand what I’m saying!” Sam crossed the wood planks, gripping the railing as he stared off toward the trees and mountains. “I don’t want to be this guy who bounces from bed to bed. I think I want something real.”

When his brother didn’t respond, Sam turned to see Clark’s mouth open and close several times. Sam rolled his eyes and leaned back against the railing with a grunt. “What? Is that so crazy?”

“Huh? No! It’s just surprising.” Clark cleared his throat, hesitating before he asked, “Have you ever been serious about anyone?”

Of the handful of women Sam had dated more than a couple of months, he could honestly say he’d never been tempted. If he went further back to his last year of high school, there was one girl he’d been willing to give up everything for and almost had.

If she hadn’t ripped his still-beating heart from his chest and stomped on it.

He would have given up anything, even his freedom, to be with Wren Little. She was beautiful, strong, funny, and challenged him. Back when he was a romantic fool, she had been the highlight of his youth, and he thought they would be together forever, but that wasn’t the case.

It was bad enough that Wren’s father hated Sam and had threatened to throw him in jail if he didn’t stay away from her, but for her to tell him they were just kidding themselves about how they felt? That they would never have made it in the real world?

Maybe not, but they’d have been happy. Whether it would have lasted months or years was anyone’s guess, but he’d been willing to go for it.

He’d seen her a couple times around town since she’d returned, that dark uniform hugging hips and thighs, which were fuller than he remembered. He hadn’t gotten close enough to really study her, but that tight bun secured at the back of her head was a far cry from the wild curls that used to hang down her back as she straddled his motorcycle, lips cherry red and begging to be kissed.

That was the Wren from his past, not the uptight cop strutting around town like she had a bug up her butt.

“Sam?” Clark asked, driving away thoughts of Wren. “What are you up to today?”

“I’m going to head into work and then probably hit the Den afterward.”

Clark shook his head. “I can’t believe you like that dive. Aren’t you worried about getting busted in some raid on the place?”

Sam snorted. “The place is hardly a criminal enterprise. Nothing illegal is happening at the Den.”

“Still, it’s suspicious with those rooms in the back and the rough crowd,” Clark said, frowning. “Just don’t get caught up in anything I have to bail you out of.”

“No worries, little brother. I can stay out of trouble for a night or two and give you peace of mind. However, if I should end up in a situation where bail money and a lawyer are needed, you’re my first call.”

Clark’s mouth kicked up in the corner, giving Sam a small smile. “I’m flattered.”

“You should be. You’re the only person I can count on.”

“Now, come on. Chris and Victoria treat you like family.”

“I know, but I would never call them to save me from the drunk tank.” Sam glanced at his smartwatch and shrugged. “Guess I better be taking off. Just a few more months of working my tail off, and I’ll have enough to open my own tattoo parlor.”

“That’s great, man,” Clark said, following him off the porch. “You think there’s enough business in town to support two tattoo parlors?”

“I don’t know.” The possibility that Sam would have to set up somewhere else had been weighing on him, but owning a business and calling the shots had been his dream since he was a kid. “I would have had my own place a long time ago if I hadn’t been betrayed by a snake.”

“I know,” Clark said softly.

Although Sam’s brother knew some of what happened, he didn’t know the full story. How he’d looked up to his boss, Ray Kilpatrick, and when the older man talked about retiring, Sam offered to buy his tattoo parlor. When he couldn’t get a loan through the bank, Sam had given Ray his savings and agreed to continue making payments to Ray—what the older man called carrying the loan—until the building was paid for. It turned out that Ray had gotten behind on some payments of his own, so he sold the business out from under Sam and ran off with Sam’s money.

It was the main reason Sam had come back to Mistletoe. That and to be close to Clark and Jace, the only family he cared about.

“Whew, how did we get stuck on such a bummer subject?” Sam asked.

“We were talking about dreams, and sometimes that can bring up things we would rather forget.” Clark’s expression pinched, pain etched in his eyes. “Remember, I had to put my life on hold when Jace’s mom left and I was trying to figure out how to raise him and finish school.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, bro,” Sam said.

“You did your best, but it was my responsibility, and we did alright. Even after I finished college and got a great job, it wasn’t until I took the job here that I realized my true calling was woodworking. Like I finally found my place in the world.” Clark smiled softly. “And the woman I love.”

“That’s what I want,” Sam said, pushing off the railing. “To find my passion and maybe even someone to share my dream with.”