The Mistletoe Kisser: Blue Moon #8

by Score, Lucy

  “Yeah. Fine. Congratulations, dick.”

  “Text message from Eden. Davis has a second cousin named Dirk who just got out of a long relationship. Waiting to confirm penis size.”

  “Who the hell is named Dirk?” Ryan demanded.

  “What do you care?” Sammy gave up the search for her phone and turned off the sound system.

  “I don’t.”

  “Good,” she said.

  “Great,” he shot back.

  They were silent for a few moments. “I’m not pissed because you said no,” she said finally. “I’m annoyed because you insinuated that the offer was gross.”

  “I did no such thing!” His expression was one of horror between his ear flaps.

  “You spit out your coffee and practically gagged at the thought,” she reminded him.

  “Sam.” He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. “As I tried to explain to you, my reaction had nothing to do with my physical attraction to you, which obviously exists.”

  “Yeah. Whatever. Let’s go back to not talking about this,” she said, tightening her grip on the wheel and heading out of town toward Pierce Acres.

  “No. Not, ‘Whatever,’” he insisted. “I’m not the friendliest guy to begin with. But you surprised me. And I was—am—hungover.”

  “I hope for their sake no one ever tries to throw you a surprise party.”

  “All of the Sosas hate surprises. My sister’s mother-in-law threw her a surprise baby shower and my sister showed up unshowered in gym shorts and her husband’s dirty t-shirt thinking she was there to help reorganize a closet.”

  Sammy winced. “Ouch.”

  “I’m human. Okay? I like to know what’s coming and when I fail to anticipate it, it takes me a minute to catch up.”

  “A minute?” she said dryly.

  “Fine. A minute or a month. Sometimes I say dumb shit when I’m caught off guard and thinking about you naked.”

  “Can we not talk about this?”

  “Pull over,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Just pull the damn car over, Sparkle.”

  She heaved her most dramatic sigh and pulled off the road next to a copse of leafless trees. Melted snow gushed out of a drainage pipe next to the road, sounding like a waterfall.

  “You surprised me, Sam. Shocked the hell out of me,” he admitted. “I didn’t know how to react, and inappropriate, stupid, snarky humor is my fallback. And you’re an idiot if you think I’m not attracted to you or that I wasn’t tempted by the offer.”

  “You’re not great at apologizing,” she observed.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m not apologizing. I’m explaining. I didn’t do anything that requires an apology. If anyone should apologize, it’s you.”

  “Fine. I’m sorry for asking if you’d be interested in having sex with me.”

  He slapped a hand on her knee and gripped it hard. “You are infuriating! Don’t apologize for offering a man a night of no-strings sex. Apologize for pretending nothing was wrong and not even trying to understand my answer.”

  “If I apologize, will you shut up about this?”

  “Not until you hear what I’m trying to tell you. I’ve never dabbled with casual sex before. I take it very seriously. Decisions that I take seriously require time and consideration. So remove your head from your ass and hear me, Sam.”

  “Wow. Okay there, Prince Charming.”

  “I like the build-up. Okay? The flirtation. I like getting to know someone before I stick body parts inside them. I also like being able to focus one hundred percent on sticking body parts inside them to the best of my abilities. Not worried about getting fired or whatever trouble my great-uncle got himself into. Or wondering exactly how you—someone who is still practically a stranger to me—would like me to stick those body parts inside you.”

  “I’m just throwing this out there for any future propositions you receive,” she began. “You could try asking your partner how they like sex.”

  “I’m not a fan of learning as I go. I like to have the groundwork laid and a clear idea of how to reach my objectives. And yes, I realize how unsexy that sounds. But I don’t like to fail. I’d rather calculate the specifics of a woman’s desires and be able to guarantee her the necessary number of orgasms.”

  “Oh,” she managed. Unspontaneous sex had never sounded sexier to Sammy.

  “So no matter how much I’d like to stick a few body parts in you—spoiler alert: a lot—I don’t know you well enough to anticipate what you need and if my mind is on something else, I’m not going to deliver the best. And since my attention is going in seventeen different directions, I’m not sure I could even deliver fifty percent. You deserve a hell of a lot more than fifty percent, Sam.”

  She looked at him for a long beat, reading the blunt, annoyed sincerity in his expression. The tension drained from her neck and shoulders.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Look, if the circumstances were different—”

  She covered the hand that rested on her leg with hers. “I said okay. And I mean it. At least, this time. Thanks for clarifying that you don’t find me repulsive.”

  “You’re a doctor, for fuck’s sake. What the hell do you think an erection means? I’ve been walking around with one—hungover, by the way—all damn day.”

  She bit her lip. “Really?”

  “You’re starting to piss me off, Sparkle.”

  “Same goes, Grumpy Ryan,” she said. But she was smiling when she said it. “Can we get on with our day?”

  “One more thing,” he said.

  She didn’t see it coming. Not from Mr. I Plan Out Everything. Ryan fisted a hand in her vest and yanked her toward him. Her seatbelt gave just enough for their mouths to collide and tangle over the console.

  His lips were hard. She imagined it was from all the excessive brooding. Felt him pouring his frustration into the kiss, stealing the air from her lungs. It was too much and not enough. So she shoved her fingers into his hair and gripped. His hat fell off into his lap. She opened her mouth to say something, but his tongue stormed inside, rendering her speechless.

  There was nothing gentle or romantic about the way his mouth moved over hers. It was a no-nonsense assault. A battle she didn’t feel the least bit sorry over losing.

  The only thing she knew for sure in that moment was the fact that Ryan Sosa was one hell of a kisser. Abruptly, he released her, dropping her back into her seat. She felt boneless and so very warm.

  “Wow,” she whispered.

  He jammed the hat she’d dislodged back on his head, then adjusted his erection in his jeans. “Now we can go,” he said, sounding more surly than when they were fighting.

  “Wow,” she whispered again, not sure if she’d regained control of her limbs yet.

  The knock on her window scared the hell out of her.

  “Holy shit!” she yelped.

  “Car trouble, doc?” Sheriff Cardona peered into the vehicle, looking concerned.

  Sammy felt her cheeks turn fuchsia.

  16

  “I can’t believe we got caught making out by the sheriff,” Sammy said as she turned left onto a paved lane lined with white fencing. “What are we? Teenagers?”

  “Oh, good. You’ve regained the powers of speech.” Ryan smirked. He felt pretty damn good about his performance. Granted, he’d only meant to shut her up for a minute. But the way her mouth moved under his, those sexy little moans she made at the back of her throat, getting carried away had been the only choice.

  “Yeah, you can joke about it because you don’t have to see the sheriff every damn day for the rest of your life. It’s a good thing he’s not in the gossip group.”

  Snow-covered pastureland rolled out to the left, woods to the right. It was picture-perfect. Even to a grouch like him.

  Ahead, smoke rose from the stone chimney of a large timber cabin. On the front porch, a pack of baby goats clamored at one of the front windows.

  “What is it wit
h this town and goats?” he asked.

  “Those are the same goats,” she told him. “That window is Jax’s office. He’s a screenwriter. They’re waiting for him to finish writing for the day.”

  Goat Guy. Ryan remembered his knee-jerk reaction of annoyance to the flirtatious goat herder. Well, Goat Guy hadn’t just kissed the hell out of Dr. Sammy Ames. He had.

  The huge barn rose out of the snow, buttoned up at the seams. No hint of disrepair here. There were a few horses under blankets dotting the white pastures.

  “Is it safe for them to be out in the cold?” he asked, pulling his gloves out of his pockets.

  “Most farm animals are hardier than you’d give them credit for. Fresh air’s good for them.”

  “What are we doing here?” he asked.

  “Pregnant mare check,” she said, cutting the engine and dragging on her gloves. “Can you be nice in there, or do I need to lock you in the car? Between the farm, the riding school, and the breeding program, Pierce Acres is my biggest client. And if you piss off Joey, I’ll have to grovel for you and I won’t like that.”

  “I can be nice,” he insisted. Probably.

  “Try hard,” Sammy prompted.

  “Fine. I, uh, like your scarf,” he said, desperately latching on to something that wouldn’t be misconstrued as a double entendre or piss her off again. He wondered if she had any idea just how distracting she was, with those full pink lips that still had the “just kissed” look to them. Her eyes, a darker shade of lavender now, were wide and still just a little glassy. He wanted to kiss her all over again. To unzip that vest and fill his hands with her while he tasted her mouth.

  She glanced down at the soft, green fabric around her neck and looked embarrassed. “Oh. Thanks.”

  “Now what?” he asked, exasperated and very, very hard.

  “Well, fun fact. Your cousin gave it to me.”

  He was appalled. No, more than appalled. He was downright horrified. “You hung on to a ratty scarf that some douchebag gave you fifteen years ago? You don’t actually think you’re in love with him, do you?”

  “What? God, no! It was a nice memory and a great scarf. Jeez! And you said you liked it!”

  On closer inspection, maybe it had been a great scarf at one time. Now it was missing more fringe than it had. There was a distinct bite mark in the hem. Probably llama. “Yeah, well, you put me on the spot, and I lied. I don’t like it. It’s a shitty scarf, and you should get rid of it.”

  “I’m confused, is this you being nice?” she quipped.

  “Get out of the car, Sam,” he growled.

  They exited the vehicle. And Ryan took a deep breath of winter air. Despite his frustrations—sexual and otherwise—with Sammy, he felt like they were finally back on an even keel. She was happy. His hangover was almost gone. He had a starting point for Carson’s problem. He’d had the best Italian meal of his life. And he’d kissed a woman breathless.

  It could almost be labeled a good day.

  Sammy led the way into the barn. As he stepped inside, he marveled that it was his second barn in one day. What the hell was happening to his life?

  Inside, it was warmer than he expected. Cleaner too. Practically livable. It smelled better than the dairy barn, which, to be fair, hadn’t been terrible either. But this sweet aroma was almost good. The scents of hay and horse and sawdust tangled together to create something interesting. If there were a horse barn candle, he’d consider buying it for his condo.

  He thought of the scents of his own workplace. Fresh paper, stale coffee, the ghosts of cologne and furniture polish that lingered behind in the conference rooms. It didn’t smell like life. Not like this.

  The order of it all piqued his interest too. He appreciated the organization that was evident. There was an entire room of horse-riding equipment—a tack room, according to the sign next to the door—all shined and hung. Glossy black wheelbarrows and no-nonsense tools dripped dry on the stone floor. The hose that had cleaned them was coiled neatly on the mount on the wall.

  Horse heads, huge yet dignified, poked out of stalls and eyed them as they passed. A big, black steed stared imperiously at them then gave the stall gate a hard gouge with his front hoof.

  “Watch out for this guy,” Sammy warned with a grin. “He’s a biter.”

  “I know nothing about horseflesh, but that’s one hell of a horse,” he said, eyeing the beast.

  “This is Apollo, the resident stud. He’s a royal pain in the ass, but I love him. Don’t I, big guy?”

  Ryan flinched when she gave the stallion a scratch under the chin, expecting the horse to snap off a few of her fingers. Instead, he tolerated the affection for a few seconds before pretending to try to take a bite out of her shoulder.

  But Dr. Sammy was a professional and accustomed to the trickery. She danced out of the horse’s reach. It was all for show, he realized. A flirtation between stubborn and loving souls. The stallion practically had hearts in his eyes when he tossed his head arrogantly and looked away from Sammy.

  “Come on,” she said, waving. “The office is this way.”

  They turned a corner and found a small office with an open door and a glass window that overlooked the indoor riding ring.

  “Bullshit,” barked the woman refilling a mug of coffee in the office. She was long-legged like one of the fine specimens of horse in the stalls. Her dark hair was stick straight and pulled back in a long tail through a dirty ball cap. She wore those tight riding pants that horse people preferred, knee-high boots, and a heavy sweatshirt.

  “It’s not bullshit,” the girl behind the desk argued. “You called the distributor a mercenary dictator and threatened to feed him his own balls last month.”

  “I have a feeling you’ll like Joey,” Sammy predicted before knocking on the door frame. “You pissing off distributors again?”

  Joey snorted over the rim of her coffee cup. “No one would have to get pissed off if people did their damn jobs in the first place and weren’t so damn sensitive about perfectly reasonable criticism.”

  Sammy was right. Ryan felt an immediate kinship with the woman. He bet she hated Christmas movies, too.

  “I keep telling her she should let me take over the ordering so we wouldn’t have to switch suppliers every few months,” the girl said.

  “I agree with Reva,” Sammy said, leaning against the door. “You might need to finally accept that you suck at peopling and dump that responsibility on someone who doesn’t make grown men cry at least once a week.”

  “You both can kiss my ass,” Joey said with a toss of her long tail of hair. The movement reminded Ryan of Apollo’s disdainful head toss.

  “But you’ll think about it,” Sammy predicted.

  Joey grunted. “Maybe.”

  Sammy winked at Reva, who looked smugly triumphant.

  “Who are you?” Joey asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing in on him.

  “This is Carson’s great-nephew Ryan. Ryan, this is Joey Pierce and her daughter Reva.”

  Given the narrow age range between the women, Ryan guessed that biology hadn’t played a part in the parent-child relationship.

  “What are you doing here?” Joey asked.

  She was the first person to ask him that. Everyone else seemed to already know. “I’m handling a family matter for my uncle,” he said.

  “Your uncle’s family matter involves my stables?”

  “It’s a long story,” Sammy cut in. “Ryan’s car wouldn’t start, so he’s playing vet tech today in exchange for a chauffeur.”

  “Hmm,” Joey mused. She sounded like she didn’t quite buy the explanation.

  Sammy glared at the woman. “Don’t tell me you’ve been in the gossip group.”

  “I haven’t,” Joey said defensively. “But that one over there maybe mentioned something about you two and your romantic romp around town.” She nodded in Reva’s direction.

  “Romantic romp?” Ryan scoffed. “Doesn’t anyone here have anything better to do with
their time than gossip?”

  “Not really,” Joey and Sammy said together.

  Reva grimaced. “You know. I think I hear something… somewhere that’s not here. Bye!” Hiding a grin, she jumped up from the desk and hurried out the door. “Nice to meet you, Ryan!”

  “You, too,” he called after her.

  “Well, let’s look at a horse uterus, shall we?” Sammy said, rubbing her palms together.

  “Now, thanks to Apollo and Calypso, the farm’s biggest moneymaker is the breeding program,” Joey explained to Ryan.

  “And you’re still running the riding school and boarding horses?” he quizzed her. The streams of income available to a farm with some creativity and capital were fascinating.

  “Yep. Speaking of which,” she said, peering over Sammy’s shoulder at the ultrasound image on the iPad, “your girl could use a ride. I wasn’t able to get her out yesterday.”

  Sammy blew out a breath through her teeth and hit send on the images. “I planned to today,” she admitted, “but we’re tight on time.”

  Ryan felt a sting of guilt. If there was one thing he understood, it was responsibility. And the fact that he was keeping Sammy from one of hers irked him. Should some poor horse suffer just because he was in a hurry to go get paper cuts while digging through a disorganized mound of paperwork?

  “I have time,” he announced.

  Sammy looked at him with a “you’re sweet but” expression. “I’d need at least forty-five minutes. I know you have things to do.”

  “I can wait,” he insisted.

  “Why wait?” Joey piped up. “You ever been on a horse before?”

  “Me?” Ryan looked over his shoulder to see if Joey was addressing someone else. “Hell no. I don’t like sitting on animals. It feels too Napoleonic.”

  17

  “I still don’t understand how it happened,” Ryan complained. “I very distinctly remember saying no.”

  Sammy turned in her saddle and grinned back at him as he plodded along on Shakira, a dappled gray horse with a bristly mane. She was a school mount for beginners. Ryan looked both uncomfortably out of his element and just a little delighted about it. It was adorable.