Page 82 of The Mistletoe Kisser
“But you know I don’t mean a million things,” he said, very, very seriously.
She swallowed hard. “Maybe you could narrow it down for me?”
“I’ve never been around anyone so…” He glanced around them, at the tangle of ribbons and ornaments, the loops of grapevines, clippings of pine. “Chaotic,” he decided.
Booty call off.She willed the hair on her legs to grow longer.“Gee, thanks.”
“Someone so chaotic, who made me feel comfortable, safe, challenged, intrigued,” he clarified.
Okay, so it wasn’t an “I’d like to rip your pants off and satisfy you six ways to Sunday” kind of statement, but it wasn’t an “ol’ buddy, ol’ pal” punch in the shoulder either.
“You’re going sixty miles an hour from dawn to dusk, changing directions, reacting, adapting. You got me on a horse when I should have been eyeballs-deep in bank statements. No one distracts me from a puzzle,” he said. “But it turns out that you’re the more interesting puzzle.”
Nowthatwas pretty freaking romantic, Sammy decided.Booty call back on.
“You reminded me of something I’d forgotten a long, long time ago.”
“What’s that?” she asked, staring hard at his mouth.
“That sometimes it’s okay to let go. That maybe I don’t have to be in complete control of every facet of my life. Maybe it’s okay if I let things happen.”
“Ireminded you of that?” she asked softly.
“You did.”
She pursed her lips and considered. “Damn. I’m smart.”
Stan wandered over to the table and nudged her with his nose. She gave him a scratch between the ears.
They ate in companionable silence, Sammy’s brain turning over everything he’d said.
When he was done, Ryan pushed his plate back. “A week ago, I was doing everything I’d set out to do. I had the biggest client list in the firm. I was on track for partner. I had a down payment on a new, bigger condo. But I never saw this coming.”
Sammy reached out and took his hand. “No amount of planning can protect you from everything. You can’t anticipate every possibility.”
He laughed. “That’s for sure.” Those gray eyes raised to meet hers. “I never saw you coming.”
Booty. Call. On.
“So,” he said, drumming his hands on the table. “Want some help with all this?” he asked, gesturing toward the holiday explosion.
“Wait. What?”
She couldn’t freaking believe insteadof tearing off her Christmas-themed boxers, the man was sitting at her table making bows.
“What are these?” Ryan asked, hefting a fat stack of papers he found under a wreath and Holly, the sleek black cat.
Sammy groaned, feeling her muscles tense just looking at them. “Those are grant applications,” she said, untying the lopsided Happy Hanukkah bow for the third time.
“For your practice?” he asked, flipping through the pile of intimidation.
“For the non-profit farm sanctuary I’m starting,” she said with a sigh. “That’s what these damn wreaths are for. It’s supposed to be the first official fundraiser for Down on the Farm.”
“I’m going to need more information than that,” he insisted, glancing up from the paperwork.
“Right now, livestock that local animal control departments liberate from unsafe situations is distributed to a network of foster farms. It’s not an ideal situation since farmers are already busy enough without adding abused or neglected animals in need of medical care and attention into the mix.”
“So you bought this place to start your own sanctuary,” he assessed.
