but Ryan merely tightened his grip on her vest.
“Stop! He’s the wrong Ryan!” Ellery stormed into the clearing, dragging a man behind her.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Wrong Ryan groused.
“Is that you, Ry?” the newcomer asked with a lazy grin. He was wearing white pants, a pink Oxford, and a long wool coat. He had a green sweater wrapped around his neck like a scarf. “Heard you got shit-canned. Sucks to be you.”
There was something unsettlingly familiar about him, Sammy thought.
“What the hell are you doing here, Shufflebottom?” snapped Wrong Ryan.
Oh, shit. Ryan Shufflebottom, the Original Mistletoe Kisser, was back.
“Dude, Esme here told me there was an emergency and paid for my plane ticket,” First Kiss Ryan said.
“Ellery,” Wrong Ryan corrected. “And there’s no emergency. You can go.”
“Dunno. I kinda like this place,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of those blinding white pants. “It’s sexy.”
“What the hell is happening?” Sammy demanded.
“This only works if you kiss Original Ryan in the same spot as your first kiss. It’s all about symmetry,” Ellery insisted knowledgeably.
“Original Ryan?” Wrong Ryan scoffed.
“Holy shit! It’s Fried Tofu Chick,” Original Ryan said, chewing his gum harder. “I totally remember you. You got even hotter. Man, we could have had some real fun that night if my parents hadn’t caught me stealing cash from the Salvation Army kettle in the park.”
“Ellery, if you don’t want a murder on your conscience, get this douchewaffle out of here now,” Wrong Ryan warned.
“So, you want me to just kiss her, or can I try for a little third base action?” Douchewaffle Ryan asked, firing off pistol fingers and a lecherous wink in Sammy’s direction.
“Ew,” she said.
“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’s a 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. All of 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