Page 33 of Mr. Mistletoe
Heat burns the back of my neck. “She showed up tonight. Sat on Santa’s lap.”
“Oooh!” They squeal in unison.
“They’re loving this too much,” I mutter.
“She’s just your type,” Laura teases, eyes sparkling.
“I don’t have a type,” I protest.
Ingrid laughs, clutching her belly. “Lizzy Langford? Stella Mackenzie?”
“Tisha Costello?” Laura adds.
Okay, maybe I do have a type.
“She’s not—” I start, then stop. Chest tight. “It’s… complicated.”
Ingrid snorts. “You think I don’t know complicated? Try picking a sperm donor from an app, little brother. Life’s complicated. But this woman? She seemed good for you. Like, lighten-you-up good.”
I look away. “Yeah. She is.”
Ingrid elbows me. “Knew it. Santa’s got a crush.”
I scrub a hand over my face. “I didn’t even get her number.”
Ingrid grins around a mouthful of ice cream. “But I bet you know where to find her.”
“What are you waiting for?” Laura asks.
I jump up so fast both of them giggle, but it’s no joke. On the drive back to the inn, I rehearse what I’m going to say:I need your number. Now.
But when I get back, the doors are locked. I ring the bell repeatedly until Sam appears, flannel robe looking annoyed.
“Oh. It’s you,” he says.
“Hi, Sam. Can you let me in? I have to tell Jess something.”
“Jess?” He taps his chin. “No Jess here tonight.”
Frustration makes my head ache. “I was with her. Eating chili.”
He pretends to think. “Nope. No Jess.”
“Come on. I just want to tell her goodnight.”
He starts to close the door. “You should call her, then.”
I stick my boot in the door. “Please. I really need a break.”
“Yeah?” He smirks. “That’s what my son said too.”
The door slams in my face. I remove my foot just in time.
Undeterred, I sneak around to the back. Maybe a door or window is unlocked. Nope. The Sugar Plum Inn is tighter than Fort Knox.
I trudge back to my truck, boots dragging through fresh snow. Whatever I was going to say to Jess… will have to wait until tomorrow.
Chapter Fifteen
