He stabbed it again. “Oh, come the fuck on,” he growled.
He heard the toot of a horn and looked up. Sammy waved as she started to pull away.
“Wait!” The window wouldn’t lower and the interior of the car was so small when he tried to wave his arms to stop her, he cracked his elbow on the glass. “Ow! Dammit!”
He wrestled the seatbelt off, threw open the door, and sprinted after her arms waving over his head. “Come back!”
His right foot went through the thin crust of snow and found the icy, mud puddle beneath. He sank in up to his ankle.
“Oh, come the fuck on!” he snarled, kicking snow and mud into the air. “I really liked these shoes.”
“Problem?”
He whirled around and found Sammy staring at him from the window of her SUV.
Blue Moon Community Facebook Gossip Group
Lavender Fullmer: Veterinarian Sammy Ames was spotted pulling into Old Man Carson’s farm very early this morning to pay a visit to his very single, very good-looking great-nephew!
10
Ryan let out a low growl from the seat next to her and shoved his phone back into his pocket.
“I told you the bank wouldn’t be open yet,” Sammy reminded him, turning Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby” back up on the radio.
He rubbed his temples. “It’s not that. The message said the bank president isn’t taking meetings until after the holidays.”
“I believe I also told you that.”
“You don’t have to be so smug about it,” he said.
“It’s a small town. We don’t get a lot of banking emergencies here,” she reminded him. “Besides, you can run into her downtown easier than setting up a meeting.”
He grunted, then punched up the heat on the seat warmer. “What would it take for you to turn off the Christmas carols?” he asked.
“More than you have,” she said cheerfully. “Are you always this grumpy or is it circumstances?”
“Just because I don’t run around with a stupid grin on my face all day every day doesn’t mean I’m grumpy.”
“So always this grumpy,” she deduced. “Sure you’re up for riding shotgun? I’ve got a lot of stops to make.” She’d already had a full day scheduled down to the minute before adding a crabby passenger into the mix.
“Whatever. Just get me in the vicinity of Rainbow Berkowicz today. I can find a way back to the farm,” Ryan insisted.
“What exactly do you need with Rainbow?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. Whatever it was, it was enough to get the man to fly across the country during a personal crisis, but the situation was one he felt could be wrapped up in a single meeting.
Ryan fiddled with the air vents on the dashboard, pointing the warm air at his face. “It’s a family matter.”
She glanced over at him. “What kind of family matter involves your uncle and Rainbow Berkowicz? As far as I know, they settled their Bingo Night dispute.”
“Look, Sparkle. Just because you’re used to your backwoods neighbors talking about every ridiculous detail of their days doesn’t mean I have to gossip about my family’s problems.”
“Message received,” Sammy said. “Unrelated. Just because some backwoods neighbor generously offered to drive you into town doesn’t mean you get to be a dick no matter how hungover, or annoyed, or used to being an ass you are. So you will be polite and respectful to me and anyone else we come in contact with today. Got it?”
His sigh was weary. “Got it. I’m sorry. I’m not usually this much of an asshole.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I guess I can’t blame you,” he admitted.
“You can tell a lot about a person by how they handle the rough patches in life. It’s easy to pretend to be a good human when things are going well. But if you start kicking kittens when things go south, odds are you’ve always been a kitten-kicker underneath it all.”
“I’ve never once kicked a kitten,” he said dryly. “I did punch a parakeet once. But he was asking for it.”
She shot him a look. “I’m sorry. Did you just make a joke?”
“I’m one of those funny grouches,” he insisted.
And just like that, Ryan labeled himself her own personal catnip. Broody hot guys were attractive for obvious reasons. But throw in a sense of humor, and that upped the probability of getting into Sammy’s pants by a thousand points or so.
They rode in silence for a few minutes, past winter white fields and farmhouses with Christmas stars on silos. The early morning skies were already turning that wide-open blue. The beauty of Blue Moon sometimes snuck up and sucker-punched her.
“Thank you for the ride, Sparkle,” Ryan said as if the words pained him. “Despite my assholery, I do appreciate it. You’re nicer than I deserve.”
Nope. No. No. No. She didn’t need him to be hot, grumpy, funny, and sincere.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “You can buy me a coffee.”
“I suppose it’s the least I can do.”
“It actually is,” she said with a smirk.
The opening bars of Dolly Parton’s “Hard Candy Christmas” were abruptly cut off by a text alert. Sammy’s SUV came with the handy option to read text messages aloud when she was behind the wheel.
“Text message from Summer Pierce,” the robotic voice enunciated. “Hey, girl. Any chance I can get four wreaths with buffalo plaid bows? I need them for a photo shoot. Praying hands. Praying hands. Smiley face.”
“Well, that’s not annoying,” Ryan announced.
“Here’s a fun fact,” Sammy said with forced brightness, as a bead of sweat worked its way down her back at the very distinct possibility that she wasn’t going to finish all the wreathes. “Those electric cars only work when you remember to plug them in.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh, which cheered her up. “Thanks for the tip,” he said dryly.
“Huh. That’s funny. I could almost say the same,” she mused, recalling his excellent erection.
“No one likes a funny veterinarian,” he said dryly.
She grinned.
The smoldery glare he sent in her direction had her insides doing funny things. Maybe it had been a little too long since her last roll in the hay. Long enough that it had been a literal roll in the hay in much warmer weather.
Dammit. That’s why this hungover grouch was playing her hormones like a world-class pianist. It had been too long. It was irresponsible to overlook good old-fashioned sex as self-care.
She wondered how long it had been for Ryan. Her gaze slid across the console to his lap.
“Eyes on the road, doc.” He sounded a little too smug for a guy wearing hand-knit rainbow mittens and matching hat.
Entering the town limits, she pushed aside thoughts of Ryan’s penis. The winter holidays had indeed exploded everywhere in Blue Moon. The Horowitz family’s inflatable Jewish star perched directly across the seat from the Ravenwoods’ Yule tree. On the corner was the Methodist Church’s nativity scene.
In a matter of minutes, Sammy maneuvered into a parking spot in front of McCafferty’s Farm Supply. “First stop,” she told him, shutting off the engine.