Page 14 of The Mistletoe Kisser

“Another generation of farmer,” he said proudly.

Pierce Acres was a family farm that raised crops, rescued livestock, and now bred some of the finest horses in the state. The land had also sprouted three very handsome men. Each married now, continuing the circle their parents had started by growing families of their own.

“All set here,” she said, placing Thor on the floor, then raiding the pet treat jar. “A couple of days, and she should be fine. If she’s still limping after Christmas, give me a call, and I’ll come check her out.”

He threw his arms around her. “You’re the best, Sammy.”

“I know,” she said, giving him a squeeze. The Pierce brothers were excellent huggers.

“You smell like cat piss and wet dog,” he whispered.

She sighed. “I know.”

With treats and treatment dispensed, Sammy walked him out to the—thankfully—empty waiting room.

“You didn’t bring this circus in your car, did you?” she asked. Jax drove a sexy vintage Chevy Nova that he treated almost as nicely as his wife and their adopted kids.

He gave her that mischievous grin that had been melting hearts for a few decades now. “I stole Jojo’s SUV. If I can get it back in the next twenty minutes, she’ll never know.”

Sammy found Jax’s delusion adorable. In her experience, a womanalwaysknew when someone stole her vehicle and used it to transport farm animals.

Clementine jogged over to the scale and jumped up on it. She put her front hooves on the wall and stretched to reach the anything-but-tasteful nude Beautification Committee calendar. The goat took a bite out of December while the two babies not cradled in Jax’s arm jumped onto the first vinyl chair and romped onto the next, the whole way around the room.

The receptionist was laughing so hard that tears slid down her cheeks as she swiped Jax’s credit card.

“Need help herding them out?” Sammy offered, checking her watch. It was five past closing, and that shower was calling her name.

She’d help shove these goats in a car, lock the front door, and be elbow-deep in craft wire and pine boughs in no time.

Jax was just scrawling his signature on the credit card slip when the front door burst open.

“What the—” Sammy’s brain couldn’t quite keep up with she was seeing.

A sheep wearing what looked like a makeshift halter of a leather belt and mismatched tie-down straps careened into the waiting room, dragging a body behind it.

The humans in the room froze.

The goats gleefully raced to investigate the intruder. As the baby goat in the Happy Kwanzaa onesie nimbly hopped up onto the sheep’s back, the body behind the sheep raised its head and then began a slow scramble to its feet.

Hisfeet.

Hisbigfeet.

Big feet clad in fancy loafers caked with mud. Stylish, low-slung jeans were wet at the knees and smeared with more mud. The man’s sweater had—until recently—been a blinding white. Now it was damp and dirty. Sammy could see the point of one manly nipple through the wet fabric.

Then there was his freaking face.Holy guacamole, that face.

Eyes: Cloudy winter gray and troubled. Jaw: Chiseled with a dusting of new stubble. Mouth: Sternly frowning. Hair: Medium brown. Neatly and expensively cut. Currently accessorized with a few leaves and at least half a cup of dirt.

There was something deliciously grumpy and broody about him.

The sheep bleated and trotted up to her, raining baby goats onto the linoleum floor. It stopped at her feet and looked up expectantly.

“Is there a sheep and a hot, dirty guy in front of me, or am I hallucinating?” Sammy whispered.

“Girl, we’re both hallucinating,” Jonica sighed, appearing next to her, her brown eyes glued to the man glaring at the sheep. “Dirty hot issomy type.”

“You are aware that I can hear you, aren’t you?” Dirty Hot Stranger said snidely with a gravelly voice.