Once Upon a Christmas by Lisa Plumley

at Sam’s
    foot more closely. Now that he mentioned it, his toe did look a
    little…unusual.
    “Umm, you know the cartoon where the coyote has an
    anvil dropped on his foot and it blows up like a big furry balloon?” she
    asked, poking tentatively at his stockinged toe.
    “Ouch! Yeah?”
    “That was actually pretty good, compared with this.”
    “You’re making jokes now?”
    Holly glanced at him. His eyebrows drew together, making him
    look surprisingly fierce. Clearly, he was not amused.
    “You are! You’re making jokes at an injured man’s
    expense,” Sam said. “I can’t believe it.”
    Okay, so her jokes never did go over very well. That didn’t
    mean she couldn’t try to cheer him up, she reasoned.
    “I’m sorry. I really am.” She actually did feel
    fairly awful about smashing his foot with the design book. It had seemed like a
    good strategy at the time. She could hardly just let him maul her right in her
    own kitchen, could she? Great kisser or not, she barely knew him.
    “Wait here,” she told him, heading to the kitchen
    to get the phone. “I’ll be right back.”
    “I’m a cripple, where am I going to go?” Sam
    grumbled as she passed him.
    Men acted like such babies when they were hurt. Holly felt
    bad about it, but it had been an accident, after all. She hadn’t meant to really hurt him.
    “I do not have furry coyote toes, either,”
    he called from the living room.
    Hiding a grin, she dialed Brad’s pager number. There were
    some advantages to having a boyfriend who was a doctor, even if the two of them
    were temporarily separated. She was sure he’d agree to come over and have a
    look at Sam’s injured toe. Brad liked to feel he was rescuing people. It was
    one of the things that made him a good doctor.
    Plus, a house call would save her and Sam a drive to the
    emergency room and probably a three-hour wait for a doctor there. And if Brad
    just happened to get a look at her hunky new roommate when he dropped
    by, well…what was wrong with that?
    When Holly returned to the living room with a bottle of pain
    reliever, the rest of the wine, and Sam’s wineglass, he eyed her warily.
    “Here.” She tapped some of the medicine in her
    palm and handed it to him. “This ought to help a little.”
    He squinted at the label, then up at her. “How do I
    know you’re not trying to poison me?”
    “Fine.” She dropped the medicine back in the vial
    and snapped the lid on. It wasn’t until Holly glanced up again that she
    realized Sam had been joking. He was smiling at her, giving her the same
    charm-oozing smile she’d accused him of using on the waitress. Suddenly the
    room felt too warm, their position too intimate, his appeal too dangerously
    real.
    Too bad that smile worked so well on her, too.
    The phone buzzed in her hand. Grateful for the opportunity
    to think about something else besides Sam, Holly answered it.
    “Holly! I told you not to page me unless it was an
    emergency,” Brad squawked in her ear. She’d forgotten how loudly he spoke
    on the phone, how overwhelming his presence could be, even from a distance.
    “It is an emergency.” She covered the phone with
    her hand and mouthed, “It’s Brad” to Sam. He looked interested, if a
    little confused.
    “The Bad Boy himself?”
    Holly frowned and waved her hand at him to be quiet.
    “Can you come over here, please?” she asked Brad. “I
    think my new roommate has a broken toe. I was hoping you’d take a look at it.”
    “I’m a G.P., not a podiatrist. Can’t you just take her
    to the emergency room? It’s getting late, and I’ve got appointments in the
    morning.”
    She couldn’t believe he was arguing with her over this. “He’s
    really in a lot of pain,” Holly said, doing her best to ignore the way Sam
    was scowling at her and waving his hands. She might have known not to make the
    awful admission he was in pain, especially to another man.
    The phone line was silent. “Brad? Just come on