Page 37 of The Mistletoe Kisser
“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,andsincere.
“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’snot 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 couldalmostsay 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.
“I can’t believe businesses are even open this early,” he complained, eyeing the three-story white clapboard building. The big glass windows were painted with a pastoral winter scene beneath the words Happy Holidays.
“Come on,” she said, releasing her seatbelt. “We’ve only got a couple of minutes.”
“To do what?”
“To get you outfitted.”
“I don’t need new clothes,”Ryan complained as Sammy shoved a heavy work coat on top of the mound of clothing he already held. “I’m not going to be here long enough—”
“Long enough to what? Get frostbite? Because I’m not going to be responsible for your favorite calculator fingers freezing and falling off.”
“I realize you’ve had more medical training than I have but I still don’t think that’s how frostbite works.”
“Go try this stuff on,” she said, shoving him toward the dressing rooms. Her tight schedule was getting tighter by the minute. But she couldn’t in good conscience let him go stomping around farms in damp jeans and nice loafers.
While he changed, she ran upstairs to check out the new thermal layers. A snarky donkey had taken a bite out of the sleeve of her favorite top last week. She grabbed two new tops, one in serviceable white and one dotted with mistletoe—because why not?—and headed back downstairs with her finds.
It wasn’t her fault that Ryan chose the dressing room with the saggiest curtain. Or that she just happened to have an excellent view from the stairs. At least, that’s what she told herself when she was stopped in her tracks to take in the view of the hungover accountant’s naked torso.
If she added up last night and this morning, she’d seen almost every square inch of the man without clothing. She’d also managed tofeelseveral rigid inches of him.
