Page 63 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Yeah, well, I’m over it. Not all of us are made for a happy ending, you know.”

Sam realized how vulnerable he sounded when Pike said, “I didn’t think you wanted one. I thought romance made you hurl, as you’ve so eloquently put it.”

“We always scorn that which eludes us,” Sam said, wishing whatever emotional diarrhea was erupting from his mouth would stop. He didn’t talk about his feelings, especially not to Pike Sutton.

“Are you telling me the great Sam Griffin is looking for love?”

The ginger dork sounded way too amused for Sam’s comfort. Still, he found himself being partially honest with his traveling companion.

“Even if I was, I’m the bad guy. Women don’t look at me for a long-term commitment. I’m the guy they use for a good time.”

Pike gave him a long, assessing look. “If you weren’t that guy, and you were trying to get back into a woman’s good graces, what would you do?”

The question hit a little too close to home, and Sam swung Pike’s way, frowning. “Are you asking me for relationship advice now?”

“No, I was just making friendly conversation,” Pike said casually, although Sam didn’t believe it. “Since we’re on a quest to help our friend woo his girl.” Pike ran a hand over his red beard, a sheepish expression on his face. “Like you, I’m not exactly the guy women want to settle down with.”

Sam smirked, thinking about all the stories that had gone around Mistletoe about Pike and his blunders with women. “Maybe don’t tell them they snore like a trucker, and you’ll get a little further with them.”

Pike sucked in a breath. “Who told you that?”

“Sally, after the two of you broke up.” Sam saw the other man’s expression darken, and he held up a hand. “She wanted a rebound, and I wasn’t in the mood to oblige, but apparently, spilling her guts about what went wrong between you was the next best thing.” Sam wasn’t going to get into the fact that she’d been one of the women to slander him on air because of his rejection, but if Sally was the one Pike was pining for, hopefully this revelation would steer him away. The woman was bad news.

Pike grimaced, tilting his face up to the sky as they followed the rest of the group through the back end of Flint Street. “Yeah, well, my tendency to tell women exactly what’s on my mind without sugarcoating it seems to be a pattern I need to break.”

Sam almost felt sorry for the guy, but learning how to talk to women was something every man had to do on his own. “You can be honest with women about the important shit, like feelings and whatnot, but if they ask you how they look in an outfit, use finesse when answering.” Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “And if you fuck up, I’m a firm believer that being earnest and vulnerable with any woman is the way to get back into her good graces. Especially if you care about her.” This reminded him of Wren, and he almost pulled out his phone and texted her, but he didn’t want to seem needy.

“For a guy who isn’t relationship material, you make a lot of sense,” Pike said.

“Maybe that whole saying ‘Those who can’t do, teach’ has a point.” Man, Sam really hoped that wasn’t true. Although he was being patient and giving Wren space, Sam held out hope that she would realize they were good together.

They’d been walking for over a half hour, and Sam wished he hadn’t had one last shot with these idiots so he could have driven them to Delilah’s. He pulled out his phone, and forgetting all about playing it cool, he texted Wren.

What do you call a group of drunk men walking across town to serenade a woman?

A few moments ticked by, and his notification went off. He opened her reply.

A misdemeanor?

Sam smiled, appreciating her humor. Not yet, but that might change once they all start singing.

Why are they singing?

Something about proving their love through song? I’m just along for the ride.

That poor girl.

Sam laughed, typing, What are you doing?

Standing around with a bunch of women I don’t know trying to mingle, when I really just want to go home and snuggle my dog.

Sam stopped walking for a second, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

“What’s the matter?” Pike asked.

“Nothing,” Sam mumbled, his attention glued to his phone. Ignoring Pike’s curious looks, he responded, Are you at Delilah Gill’s book club?

The bubbles popped up and then her message. Yes, but how did you know about it?