Home > The Mistletoe Kisser : A Small Town Love Story(54)

The Mistletoe Kisser : A Small Town Love Story(54)
Author: Lucy Score

“Sheriff Cardona can spell, Bruce,” Sammy said dryly. “I am very disappointed in you all.”

“Sammy—” Ellery tried.

“Very. Disappointed,” Sammy announced, cutting her off.

“Okay, Sparkle. Let’s regroup,” Ryan said, dragging her a few steps away, leaving the Beautification Committee clucking like worried chickens. “Take a breath and explain to me what just happened.”

She sucked in oxygen as she watched vendor tents going up around them.

There was an empty spot between the vegan wiener truck and the alpaca dung incense stand where her booth was supposed to be.

“Sam.” Ryan gripped her shoulders. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t mean to butt in, but you should keep your hands to yourself, Wrong Ryan. Your cousin might not like it,” Bruce called.

“My hands are the last body parts you need to be worried about where Sam is concerned, Santa,” Ryan snarled.

“Ryan!” she hissed.

“Sammy, since you’re here, we could use a hand putting up the—”

“No!” Ryan cut off Willa’s request. “Sam is not doing anyone else any favors. She’s not lending a hand, helping out, or stepping in. From now on, you people need to give her space to do her things. Better yet, why don’t you offer her a hand?”

“Do you see what I mean?” Bruce clapped his hands in glee. “He’s the perfect town grump.”

“We need to get you in front of Moon Beam,” Rainbow agreed. “How do you feel about excessive gum chewing and inappropriate flirtation?”

“These people aren’t right in the head,” Ryan said, gesturing toward the clump of master manipulators. “Falsifying loan documents and trying to collect on them? Orchestrating some scheme just to get a stranger to fly across the country and get married?”

“Trust me,” Sammy said, pulling him farther away. “It’s not the worst thing they’ve done. Though I kind of expected more out of them. This was a half-assed scheme compared to some of their more recent matches. Usually their efforts are more elaborate.”

“It really was whole-assed,” Ellery called to her. “I’ll admit we had a few shortcomings in our research department. But our whole asses were in it.”

“This is exactly why you shouldn’t get to know your neighbors,” Ryan lectured her.

“They mean well,” she said lamely.

“They just tried to arrange a marriage, Sam. That’s not normal.”

“Hey, I said they mean well. Not that they’re normal,” she countered. “I am so sorry about this. I don’t blame you for booking the earliest flight out of this patchouli-scented loony bin.”

He would, she knew. The BC had just blown their chance of landing a town grump with their botched string pulling. All those maybes from last night couldn’t stand up under the harsh light of morning. It made her feel cold inside. Cold and sad.

“Sam—” Ryan’s phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket. She saw his eyes widen in surprise when he looked at the screen. “It’s one of the partners from the firm.”

“Answer it,” she said, her throat tight.

He looked like he wanted to say something to her, but words weren’t necessary when she saw the conflict written plainly on his face. “Go on,” she insisted, giving him a sad smile.

She watched helplessly as he wandered a few steps away, stopping in the middle of the half-assembled Mistletoe Corner to answer the call. Her heart gave an odd, painful lurch.

She hadn’t even known she wanted a relationship until Ryan and his dirty sheep had wandered into her life.

“Excuse me, Samantha,” Bruce said, trotting over. “Rainbow wanted me to ask you to ask Ryan if he was still going to help us out with our little state audit problem.”

“That was real?” she asked.

His eyes were wide and guileless. “I would never joke about accidentally bankrupting our town, not even for the right match,” he insisted.

Ryan was watching her intently even as he listened to the person on the other end of the call. A partner who hadn’t fought for him or believed in him when it counted. One who didn’t recognize his value until Ryan was already gone. That was the problem. She had. So had her inept, good-hearted, manipulative neighbors. And he was going to walk away from them.

She could read it on his face.

“Sorry, Bruce,” she said sadly. “Ryan’s flying home today.”

“This is a travesty,” the man wailed.

Sammy couldn’t agree more.

“Amethyst and I are not cut out for prison. Orange washes out her complexion,” Bruce muttered as he walked away.

Ryan’s call was over. She held her breath as he returned to her. One last hope butterfly struggling to stay in the air.

“They want you back?”

He nodded. “My clients are unhappy with Bart Lumberto stepping in. The partners think they were too hasty and want me to fly back tonight for a meeting in the morning. A fresh start.”

The last little butterfly in Sammy’s stomach hurled itself into the bug zapper.

“Tonight? Wow,” she croaked. Her eyes were filling with tears. Tears she had no right crying after only a few days. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”

“Corporate accountants aren’t big on the holidays,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She shook her head and blinked hard. “Congratulations, Ryan. You got what you wanted. I’m happy for you,” she said with feigned brightness.

“Then why do you look like your eyeballs are going to pop out of your head?” he asked. He nudged her chin higher.

“What are you talking about?” she scoffed, looking everywhere but his face. Looking at him would force her to face the fact that she was losing what she’d only just found.

She blinked, and her right eye promptly overflowed. Crap.

“Look at me, Sparkle.”

“No, thanks.” She stared down at their feet.

Again, he took her chin in hand and lifted it. “You’re killing me, Sam,” he said softly.

“I’m not sad,” she lied. “I’m…” Dejected. Miserable. Ruined for all future non-glittery sex. “Happy for you.”

“This doesn’t have to be over. Isn’t that what video calls and plane tickets are for?” he said gripping her arms.

She gave him a small, watery smile. “You work sixty hours a week. I have an erratic schedule. And I can’t stay up late enough for West Coast sexting.”

“I’ll reschedule the meeting,” he insisted. “Those grant applications aren’t going to fill themselves out.”

She shook her head. “This is what you wanted. Losing it showed you how much you loved it. There’s no point delaying it. You need to go home.”

“What about your grants? The wreaths?”

“It’s time for me to face facts. I spread myself too thin and now I’m learning my lesson.”

“I don’t want to leave you like this,” he said earnestly.

“Me? You should be more worried about Bruce. I told him you weren’t going to be able to help with that whole auditor thing.”

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