Page 92 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Wren,” he called out. She looked around, finally angling her chin up to where she could see him, and he blew her a kiss.

Wren made a face indicating her disgust and confusion at his creepy behavior.

Sam realized that he had never told her he was going to be Santa, because he’d gotten thrown into the position ten minutes before the parade started. He couldn’t take off his beard and show her who he was, so instead Sam made his hands into the best bird he could and started flapping his hands like wings.

Wren turned around and walked through the crowd.

Holly laughed uproariously. “That was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while. She had no idea who you were. She just thought you were some random creeper making gestures at her. You’re lucky she didn’t climb up here and arrest you.”

“I’m glad you find this so amusing,” Sam grumbled.

“Only because I’ve never seen you so besotted.”

“How ’bout less talkie, more wavie?” Sam said.

“Whatever you say, Santa.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

Even though it was twenty degrees outside, being stuck in that Santa suit for two hours left Sam overheated, which didn’t help when he had to switch right over to a tux for the bachelor auction. He stood backstage, waiting for his name to be called, loosening his collar and taking off his jacket for the fiftieth time, trying to get some airflow with sixty bodies huddled in a cramped space. It felt like a sauna of cologne and breath mints, and he wanted to get the hell out of there.

Sam hadn’t spotted Wren yet, but when he’d seen her after the crowd dispersed at the parade, she’d said she would be there. Sam wasn’t expecting anyone else to bid on him, given everything that had happened, but he didn’t wanna take a chance of going home with anyone else.

“Next up, Sam Griffin!” Merry called from the stage, and Sam walked through the curtain, carrying his tux jacket over his shoulder. Merry smiled at him before addressing the crowd. “This talented artist enjoys sunny weather, boating, and a bottle of good whiskey on a cold night. Ladies, not only do you get to enjoy Sam’s charming company, but you win a tattoo appointment of three hours and up to two hundred dollars. We will start the bidding at thirty dollars; do I hear thirty?” Sam smiled into the audience, even though he was blinded by a spotlight and couldn’t tell who was who, but a paddle went into the air.

“Thirty!”

“I’ll give you forty!”

“Whoa, easy ladies, the night is young. Will anyone go to fifty?”

“Fifty!”

“Sixty!”

It was like rapid-fire succession one after another, up and up it went until someone shouted, “Three hundred and sixty dollars!”

Sam’s throat seized up. It didn’t sound like Wren. Sam held his breath, waiting for Merry to count down to ‘sold’ when he heard his girl.

“Four hundred dollars!”

Sam grinned, spinning in a circle as his heart pounded in anticipation.

“I have four hundred once . . . twice . . . sold! To Wren Little for the bargain price of four hundred dollars.”

Sam heard some rumblings in the crowd, probably commenting that he wasn’t worth it, but their opinions didn’t matter.

Still, maybe there was a way to pacify the women of Mistletoe with some good clean revenge?

“You can pay up and pick up at the table by the stage.”

Sam held his hand out for Merry’s mic, shooting her a sheepish grin. “May I address the audience?”

Merry hesitated for several beats before she handed over the mic.

Sam brought the mic to his mouth and said, “Ladies, I know I haven’t always been the most sensitive guy. Although I pride myself on being honest, I wasn’t always tactful and conscientious of your feelings.”

There were a few angry boos and catcalls, but Sam kept going. “A lot of you called in to Jilly G a couple weeks ago and vented your frustrations with my character. I wanted to let you know that I heard you, and I want to apologize. More than that, I want to give the ladies of Mistletoe the opportunity to enact their revenge. Next Saturday, I will be at the Mistletoe Winter Games in the pie-throwing area. If you wish to throw a pie in my face, please come on by from noon to two, and I will take it like a man.”