The Mistletoe Kisser - Lucy Score Page 0,44

was holding on the table and enveloped her in a warm hug. He was a champion hugger, Sammy thought as she squeezed him back.

“How’s Mr. Snuffles?” she asked, referencing Franklin and Phoebe’s adopted sinus-infection-prone pug.

“A disaster as always,” Franklin announced, pulling her chair out for her. “I’m just kidding. That last sinus infection cleared up right away. The grandkids have been teaching him some tricks, but he only lasts ten minutes or so before he needs to recover with a two-hour nap. What are you two up to?”

“We’ve been tracking Rainbow Berkowicz,” Sammy said, pouncing on the basket of bread. Breakfast had been approximately one hundred years ago, and the one thing guaranteed to soothe her wounded pride was delicious carbs.

“You just missed her,” Franklin said. He paused to wave at a table of knitters sitting in the window, downing espressos and cannoli with abandon. “But she’ll be at the ribbon-cutting this afternoon for Mason Smith’s office.”

Sammy stuffed a slice of bread in her mouth and closed her eyes. A few measly hours. She could deal with Ryan for that amount of time… if she had bread and chicken parm—maybe she’d do the lunch entree instead of the sandwich since they were dining in. That thought cheered her.

“I’d better get back in the kitchen,” Franklin said. “Fennel and Orion are fighting over preschool options.”

“Wait a minute. Did I miss some big adoption news?” Sammy asked.

“No. They’re just being proactive,” Franklin said with a wink. “Enjoy your lunches.”

“Back to your offer,” Ryan said, the second the man was out of earshot.

Sammy groaned inwardly. “Are you still thinking about that? Forget it. Let’s not waste any more time on that topic.” She was going to do her best to forget she’d ever been stupid enough to make the offer.

“Hello, and welcome to Villa Harvest. Are we trying the mushroom caps today?” Fennel, the server, clutched his notepad to his chest with brave dignity while casting glares at his chef husband in the open kitchen.

For his part, Orion banged the pots and pans on the stove around with excessive force. Sammy sympathized.

They placed their orders as Fennel’s lower lip trembled then handed the menus over.

“You’re pissed at me because I turned you down,” Ryan said, the second Fennel disappeared through the kitchen doorway.

“Ryan, for the love of fresh-baked bread. Let’s stop talking about it. I offered, and you declined,” she said, picking up a second slice of bread and slathering it with butter. She had a very specific routine at Villa Harvest. First, she always arrived too hungry. Which then required her to eat too much bread before her meal came. Which in turn forced her to box up half her entree so she could eat the leftovers later. It was a flawless system.

“Things don’t get resolved by pretending they never happened,” he said loudly over the yelling—some in Portuguese—coming from the kitchen. The pot banging grew louder.

She slapped Ryan’s hand away from the butter. He could stomp on her self-esteem, but that didn’t mean she had to surrender her butter. “There’s nothing to resolve. And even if there were, you’re leaving, so it doesn’t matter.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “I don’t like leaving problems unsolved.”

“You didn’t say anything I wasn’t expecting. Let’s leave it alone.”

“Fine,” he said, snatching the butter away from her and slathering it on a fluffy piece of rosemary and olive oil bread.

The yelling in the kitchen stopped.

She swallowed the huge bite of bread along with her own anger.

“Your appetizer is here,” Fennel sang, dropping a mustard yellow platter of mushroom caps in front of them. With a flourish, he placed two small green plates on the table, blew them a kiss, and vanished.

“I guess they made up,” Ryan observed. “Like adults.”

“I guess so,” she said, too busy diving for the mushrooms to rise to the bait.

Like a sneak, he waited until she’d shoveled her half of the appetizer onto her plate.

“Mmm,” she moaned around a mouthful of butter and garlic.

“All I’m saying is I take sex very seriously,” he said. “Decisions that I take seriously require time and consideration.”

“For Pete’s sake, man. Shut up,” she said. She lunged across the table and shoved an entire mushroom cap into his mouth. “You’re not interested. I get it. Let it go.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to argue but was interrupted by a figure dressed all in black popping up over the other side of the half-wall.

“Holy shit,” Ryan choked, chewing rapidly.

“Sammy! I hope you’re saving