Page 101 of The Mistletoe Kisser
Layla stopped in her tracks and peered into her face. “Well, holy shit. You slept with him didn’t you? You slept with the guy and you didn’t tell us. Not cool, Ames.”
“There wasn’t much time between the having of the sex, me getting an emergency call, and him leaving town,” Sammy said dryly.
“That sucks. I’m sorry. Do you want me to run him through the system to see if he has old arrest records? That always makes you feel better,” Layla offered.
She shook her head. Nothing short of a miracle would make her feel better.
Layla pointed to the Pierce Acres petting zoo. “Remember the great sheep escape?”
“Oh, I remember,” Sammy said. And for a moment, she could picture John Pierce grinning at her from across the path, could taste the Butterfinger hot chocolate on her tongue, could feel the excitement of a new crush.
“What are the odds of two sheep and two Ryans on two solstices?” Layla mused.
“The odds are zero. I’m the first official Beautification Committee failed match,” Sammy explained. “They got the wrong Ryan.”
“The wrong Ryan?”
She filled in her friend on the particulars while they got in the fried tofu line for old time’s sake.
“But did theyactuallyget the wrong Ryan?” Layla asked.
“He wasn’t the one who kissed me fifteen years ago.”
“Yeah, but you likedthisRyan enough to sleep with him. And now that he’s gone, you’re mooning like a lovesick teenager.”
“Who’s mooning? I’m not mooning,” Sammy snapped, taking offense. “I’m tired. I didn’t accomplish any of the things I set out to do. And the guy I stupidly let myself fall for left town today.”
“I’m sorry, Sammy. I don’t think any of us realized how hard you were working to help everyone else and how far behind you were with your own stuff.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I didn’t either.” She took a breath and blew it out slowly, trying to dull the ache. “I really wanted him to stay,” she admitted.
Layla slung an arm around her shoulders. “If it were up to me, you’d get everything you want.”
Sammy gave her a small smile. “Thanks, friend.”
They got their tofu and continued their tour of the park. Sammy’s booth had been taken by a crochet lingerie artisan that was doing a brisk business with the over-eighty crowd. A couple wandered by with two stylish wreaths looped over their arms. They looked better than any wreath Sammy had cobbled together. The thought served to depress her further.
“What’s all the fuss down there?” she asked, pointing to the end of the park where a crowd was gathered.
“Just the tree farm.”
“Did Carson come back?”
Layla shook her head. “Nope.”
“Wait a second.” Sammy stopped on the concrete. “Layla Gunnarson, why do you have glitter on your face?”
Layla grinned and pulled her toward the crowd. “Hang on to your heart, Sammy.”
Between Mooners with fists of cash, Sammy spotted the hand-lettered signs for Fresh Cut Trees and Handmade Wreaths.
All proceeds benefit Down on the Farm.
“How did you do all this?” Sammy asked. Her throat felt tight.
“I helped. But I can’t take credit for it.”
Sammy watched in shock as Carter Pierce and Nikolai Vulkov fed Christmas trees through a baler. Emma sat nearby wrapped in a blanket with her feet up and a plate of French fries in her lap. Evan and his stepdad Beckett schmoozed the hell out of the dozens of customers while Phoebe and Franklin made change. Next to them, Eden and her boyfriend Davis were pouring samples of mulled wine and hot cider.
