Page 93 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

Sam handed back the mic to Merry, who clapped along with the screaming audience. “Sounds like we’re gonna have a lot of fun next weekend at the winter games. Next up, we have the witty and wicked . . .”

Sam headed down the stairs, searching the crowd for Wren. He spotted her at the payment table, counting out hundred-dollar bills. Sam walked up next to her, grinning mischievously. “You do know that the prize is a tattoo under two hundred dollars, right?”

“I do know that,” she said, slipping her hand into his. “That’s why we’re headed to the shop now, so I can collect my prize.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “You’re actually going to get a tattoo?”

“I guess you’ll have to come with me to find out.” Wren tugged on his hand, and he let her lead him out the double doors. Sam was surprised she didn’t drop his hand as they walked by the women of Mistletoe, who watched her curiously. He wondered what had changed, and although he’d expected her to bid on him, why the sudden interest in a tattoo?

When they reached her car, she unlocked it, tossing him the keys. “Do you mind driving? Heels are a killer.”

Sam caught the keys in the air and unlocked the door. “No problem. Where is Duke tonight?”

“At home. He doesn’t look as hot as you in a tux.”

Her playful demeanor made him smile. “You seem different tonight.”

“In what way?” she asked, getting into the car and shutting the door.

“I don’t know,” he said, putting the keys in the ignition. “Happier, maybe. You seem pumped up.”

“I’m just excited to see where the night takes us,” she murmured, placing her hand on his knee.

Sam started the car, and as they drove to the tattoo parlor, he covered her hand with his, lacing their fingers together. He had no idea what was going on in her head, but just the small gesture of holding hands in public gave him hope that maybe she was coming around.

He parked along the back of the tattoo shop and came around to the passenger side to help her out of the car. The long black dress she wore had thick straps, the neckline dipping into a deep V in the front, the material shimmering as she walked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you. I feel beautiful.” She tweaked his bowtie playfully. “You look good, too, but you always do.”

“You didn’t think so earlier when I was in my Santa suit,” Sam grumbled.

“That was you?” She laughed. “How did you get roped into that?”

“Victoria threatened me.”

“With what?”

“I don’t know, but her tone was scary.”

Wren laughed again. “Poor baby.”

“I’m not kidding, it was a rough night. I had to listen to Holly gripe and moan about her life and then bombard me with questions about mine. It was a nightmare.”

“But you did it,” Wren said, smiling.

“Of course I did. They were backed into a corner, and they needed a Santa.”

“Yes, but they asked you to do it. They knew you would come through for them, and even though Victoria threatened you, I’m sure she really didn’t have to, because you’re a good man.”

“Thank you.” Sam flipped on the lights inside the parlor, rubbing his hands together. “So, are you really going to get a tattoo, or did you just bring me here to seduce me?”

“It’s actually a little of both,” she murmured, and Sam’s heart slammed in his chest rapidly as Wren held out her arm. With her fingers, she traced something across her skin, and it took him a moment to realize it was a heart. “I want something like this.” She traced a second interconnecting heart onto her arm. “On this first heart, I want the date that you and I met nineteen years ago. Do you remember it?”

“Of course I do,” he said softly.

“Good. On this one,” she said, pointing at the imaginary heart on her forearm, “I want the date we reconnected, and then, hopefully very soon, we can add another heart. Smaller than the other two, with the date we find out I’m pregnant.”