a little ill.
“Great. Bye, Ellery,” Ryan said, trying to shoo her out of the doorway.
“Oh, baby brain!” she said, tapping her forehead. “I almost forgot to thank you for taking care of Edgar for me.”
“Edgar?” Ryan was incredulous.
She whistled, and Stan the sheep trotted up to the door. It baa-ed and flicked his tail in greeting.
“You didn’t!” Sammy brought her hands to her face, forgetting she was holding the calendar. The view of Gordon Berkowicz’s flat white ass on the cover had her losing the blanket again.
“Aww! Look at those love bites,” Ellery said, staring at Sammy’s chest. “Nice job, Ry. High five.”
Scrambling, Ryan grabbed Sammy around the waist and tucked her behind his back. “You listen here, Queen of the Damned—”
Ellery curtsied. “Aww, thank you! How sweet!”
“Not a compliment.”
Ellery shrugged. “Agree to disagree.”
“Wait a minute. Did Dr. Turner even have food poisoning?” Sammy asked.
“Nope. He’s vegetarian, by the way. No hot dog eating contests for him,” Ellery said with a smug smile.
“I can’t believe this. I almost ran over that poor sheep just so you could pull strings?” Ryan was getting himself worked up. “What kind of a fucked up—”
“Don’t be silly,” Ellery said, waving his concerns away. “Edgar was never in any real danger. We had Ernest Washington rig the front sensor on your little tiny car while you were inside. You didn’t get within six feet of my sweet little sheep.”
“But the thump? The limping!”
Sammy put her hand on Ryan’s back to calm him.
“Wilson Abramovich is an excellent shot with a water balloon, and sheep are very intelligent. You can train them to do tricks just like horses. Watch. Hey Edgar, limp!”
The sheep toddled down the walk toward Ellery’s jacked up hearsemobile, limping like he’d broken his leg.
“Good boy! Now play dead!”
Edgar flopped over on his side and rolled until all four hooves were in the air.
“He’s so smart, isn’t he?” Ellery beamed.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Surprise had Ryan bobbling the pillow and dropping it.
Ellery’s eyes widened as she took in the view. “Mazel tov, Sammy! I’ll let you two get back to it. Merry Christmas, guys. I’ve got to get Edgar home, and I need to swing by Moon Beam’s place. Rumor has it Subpar Ryan spent the night, and the Beautification Committee wants to confirm its first two-fer.”
“Mazel tov,” Sammy croaked. “Happy Solstice.”
Ryan grabbed the pillow and covered his nether region.
“Oh! One more thing,” Ellery said. “Eden asked me to let you know that she just had a few last-minute reservations at the inn. It sounds like Ryan’s family is in town. His mom said something about Ryan calling her and telling her he’d gotten fired and quit and fell in love with a girl. They’ll be by this afternoon to meet Sammy and assess you for a mid-life crisis.”
“You told your mom you were in love with me before you told me?” Sammy asked him.
“Technically, I still haven’t told you I’m in love with you because I’m waiting for the right moment. Preferably after we’ve known each other longer than a week,” he said dryly.
“It does seem awfully irresponsible of you to fall in love with me that fast,” she agreed.
“Are you trying to say you’re not in love with me?”
“Of course I’m in love with you,” she scoffed. “But I’m the romantic. It’s expected from me.”
“Well, it sounds like you two have a lot to work out here. So I’ll be on my way,” Ellery said, turning to leave. “Oh, gosh. I almost forgot. Sammy, your parents just arrived in town, too. Your mom skipped brunch with the Secretary of Agriculture, and your dad brought a copy of Die Hard. They’re looking forward to seeing you tonight.”
“Is it too early to start drinking?” Sammy murmured.
“How soon does the liquor store open?” Ryan asked.
They stood there watching Ellery as she unfolded a ramp from the back seat and guided the sheep up into the vehicle.
She tooted the horn, an oddly cheerful funeral dirge, and drove off.
“Was that a hearse?” Ryan asked.
“Yep.”
“With reindeer antlers and a red nose on the grill?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And she planned this entire thing?”
“It would appear so.” Sammy sighed. “You changed your mind, didn’t you? You’re rescheduling your flight in your head right now.”
He threw the pillow over his shoulder and reached for her. His hands were hot, his grip firm. “It’s gonna take more than a handful of Machiavellian hippie manipulators to scare me off.”
“Good,” she breathed. “Because there’s more than a handful around here.”
“Sam?”
“Yeah?” she asked breathlessly.
Ryan pointed up. Hanging in