Page 105 of The Mistletoe Kisser

“What are we working with here? B cup? C cup?” Gross Ryan asked, walking toward her with outstretched palms at boob height.

“Not happening,” Accountant Ryan said briskly. “Hold these.” He shoved the flowers into Sammy’s hands.

“Ryan,” she warned.

“What?” both Ryans said at the same time.

“Dude, pretty sure she was talking to me,” Boob Grabber Ryan said, wriggling his eyebrows. He no longer had the boy band swoop of hair. Instead he’d graduated to a slicked back, heavy-on-the-gel style.

“Fuck symmetry,” Grumpy Ryan growled. His fist flashed out and connected with Original Ryan’s jaw. The man crumpled to the ground like a deflating Santa lawn display.

“Ryan!” Sammy yelped.

“What?” Wrong Ryan said as he stalked toward her.

“Ow! I can’t believe you hit me. I’m suing your ass! Tofu Girl, you and Ellen are my witnesses,” whined Inappropriate Conduct Ryan.

“Let’s do this right,” Wrong Ryan insisted. Once again, his hands fisted in her vest. The flowers fell uselessly from her fingers to the ground as their bodies connected. He didn’t give her a chance to breathe before crushing his mouth to hers.

There under the mistletoe, their tongues twined, teeth grazed, lips crushed.

There was nothing sweet or safe about the kiss. But there was fire and heart and hope. Even romance. And a host of other feelings drowned out by the pulsing need of more. More. So much more.

“Now,that’sa kiss,” Ellery mused from what sounded like a long way off.

“Can someone get me some ice? And some vodka?” Punched-in-the-Face Ryan asked.

“Come on, Subpar Ryan,” Ellery said. “I’ll buy you some wassail.”

Wrong Ryan broke away from the kiss. “Wait,” he ordered. He unraveled the green scarf from Sammy’s neck and threw it at his cousin. “You can have this back.”

“Hey! I shoplifted this from Nordstrom’s when I was like fifteen. I wondered what happened to it.”

“You’re not a great person, are you?” Ellery asked as she led Criminal Ryan away.

“Not really,” he agreed.

“Oh my God,” Sammy breathed. She’d been wearing a stolen scarf for fifteen years.

“I paid for this one after I saw it and it reminded me of your eyes,” Ryan said, reaching into his coat and yanking out a deep blue scarf. She buried her face in the yarn and breathed in his scent.

He cleared his throat. “Now it’s time to get a few things straight. Number One, I won’t tolerate you making out with anyone who isn’t me from here on out.”

Her butterflies had exploded into a glorious, golden glow that filled her chest.

“Is that so?”

“That’s right, and you’d better get used to it. Because Number Two, I’m sticking around. One night with you wasn’t enough for me. I want more of you.Allof you.”

“Even though it doesn’t make sense? Even though this isn’t part of your life plan?” she pressed.

“Somehow you make more sense than any other decision I’ve ever made,” he insisted, sliding his hand up her jaw to her neck and into her hair.

Sammy’s blood felt thick in her veins. The night air was chilly, but in the moment, she felt like she’d never be cold again. She slid her hands up his chest and was surprised by the heat pumping through his sexy thermal shirt under the flannel coat.

He didn’t look like a snooty accounting robot.

He looked like a man who wanted something. And that something washer.