The Mechanics of Mistletoe - Liz Isaacson Page 0,92

before he dropped it.

“Thanks, bud,” he said to Lincoln, barely squeezing by him.

“Right here, Bear,” Sammy’s mother said, and Bear put the hot trays on the counter where she’d laid out trivets. “Thank you for getting this. It smells amazing.”

“Sure,” Bear said. He’d stopped to pick up Sammy’s favorite pasta—chicken Alfredo—and her mother’s favorite—cheese-stuffed shells. Half of one of the trays should be full of breadsticks, while the other one should have spaghetti and meatballs.

Bear could eat pasta any day of the week, so he wasn’t disappointed in the menu that night. Rachel had several bottles of flavored syrups sitting on the counter, along with two-liter bottles of soda and a huge bowl of potato salad.

Not only that, but she’d gone to The Pennsylvania and picked up one of their homemade blackberry cobblers. Bear thought it was just about the most perfect birthday meal he’d ever seen.

“Something smells good,” Vaughan said, hobbling into the kitchen. He beamed at Bear, who shook his hand.

“Sammy said she was five minutes from leaving the shop,” Bear said, glancing at the clock on the stove. That had been fifteen minutes ago, and if she’d spoken true, she’d be at her parents’ already.

She wasn’t, so she hadn’t left work yet. He’d wanted to provide an amazing experience for her the way she had him, but he respected her wishes, and he hadn’t invited anyone else to the party. He had sent a lot of texts and emails over the course of the last month, though, and he’d put together a book of cards, letters, and emails from people who knew and loved Sammy.

He’d left the book in his truck, because he still wasn’t sure he was going to give it to her that night. He’d given her the diamond yesterday, and that could easily be counted as her birthday gift. Although, when Bear thought about it, being engaged to Sammy was definitely a gift for him, not her.

“Sorry,” Sammy called from the direction of the front door. “I had this guy call right as I was walking out, and all the other guys had gone.” She appeared in the kitchen doorway, flustered, with wisps of hair falling from her ponytail. “I need a couple of minutes to clean up, okay?”

Her eyes landed on the trays on the counter. “What is that?”

“Chicken Alfredo,” her mother said, smiling. “Hello, dear.” She stepped over and embraced Sammy, the two of them both closing their eyes. Bear couldn’t help smiling too. Sammy’s family was much smaller than his, but that didn’t mean the connections were any less real.

“Five minutes,” Sammy said. “Where’s Link?”

“He went out back,” Vaughan said. “I’ll get him.”

Bear stepped over to Sammy and slid one arm around her waist. “Hey, you.” He grinned at her, and she smiled up at him, and Bear wanted to marry her that weekend. They hadn’t set a date, but she’d said she’d sit down with her mom and get something scheduled that night.

“Five minutes,” she repeated, and Bear kissed her quickly and let her go. She may have asked for a low-key birthday, and he understood why. This wasn’t her real birthday anyway. On Christmas Eve, after the light parade, he’d already planned to have her and Lincoln up to the homestead.

He and Bishop would be finished switching places by then, and Bear wanted her to see the west wing where she’d be living. He wanted to provide a sanctuary for her after a very busy night, and he wanted her to know how very much he loved her.

The living room in the west wing would be quiet and dark and filled with as many of her favorite things as he could get before Christmas Eve. So it didn’t really matter if he gave her that book tonight or not. She’d get a lot of gifts on her actual birthday.

He heard a dog bark, and it sounded like it had come from the backyard. Surprise moved through him, and he went through the utility room to the back door. Vaughan stood on the back porch, looking down at Lincoln and the cutest black and white spotted puppy Bear had ever seen. “What is happening here?” he asked.

“Lincoln wanted to get Sammy a dog for her birthday,” Vaughan said like that was a spectacular idea. Bear could see a myriad of problems, starting with the fact that neither Sammy nor Lincoln were ever home during the day.

“Oh, boy,” Bear said, rubbing his hand up the back of his neck and dislodging