Page 12 of The Holiday Clause

“He wants us to take more interest in our positions on the board and show up for more meetings.”

“Well, that seems fair. If you guys are going to run the company, you’ll need to stay informed.”

“But that’s not all he wants.”

They both stared at her, and she instinctively stepped back like cornered prey. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

And where was Greyson? Wouldn’t this affect him, too? Leave it to Greyson to remove himself entirely from any emotional situation.

“He, uh…” Logan cleared his throat. “…wants us to settle down.”

She laughed. “Yeah, right.”

No resident in Hideaway Harbor would classify any of the Hawthorne boys as settled. They were as untamed as the seas and as unruly as the wind. Even a patriarch as powerful as Magnus Hawthorne the Third couldn’t control such wildness.

“Good luck with that.”

Soren met her stare. “He wants us to find a wife.”

She stilled. “Excuse me?”

“He thinks getting married will calm us down.”

Her laughter doubled. “That poor woman, whoever she is! Getting married isn’t going to tame you boys.” Suddenly, her laughter stopped, a foreboding queasiness creeping in. “Wait…”

Soren glanced at Logan. “I think she’s getting it now. Give her a sec.”

“You’re not here because...”

They both looked at each other then at her.

She took another step back. “Absolutely not!Are you insane?”

“It’s not that crazy of an idea, Wren.”

Frantically, she stowed groceries in the cabinets and fridge, shoving items onto the wrong shelves, too distracted to achieve any organization. “Whatever crazy ideas brought you here, forget it! My God, there are three of you! What did you expect to happen?”

“Forget the fact that there are three of us and only one of you. You’re the only woman any of us would ever consider marrying.”

She spun and gaped at them. “Us?What the hell are you suggesting, Logan?”

“No, it wouldn’t be like that. You would pick.”

“Pick what?”

He shrugged. “Whichever one of us you liked most.”

Her jaw unhinged. “You’ve lost your mind.”

Wren pushed past them and carried her new shampoo into the bathroom. When she set it down and turned, they were right behind her—cornering her again and sucking all the air out of her little house. She wedged between them and went back to the kitchen.

“Come on, Wren. We’d let you choose.”

She stilled then pivoted to face them. “Oh, I get to choose? Well, how lucky for me! Whichever one will it be? Let’s see. Considering that I’ve never had a single romantic interaction with any of you, I guess my answer is none.”

“Come on, Wren?—”

“No!” she snapped, stepping away from Soren’s cajoling touch. He could be quite convincing when he turned on the charm, and she wasn’t falling for that. “Did you actually think you could come here and talk me into marrying one of you? What kind of woman do you think I am?”