Page 149 of The Holiday Clause

What if Greyson took such offense to her question that he no longer wanted her?

What if this went beyond that and she damaged more than just their current relationship?

She went against her silent promise to give him space and texted anI’m sorry. Twenty minutes later her stomach hurt and she still had no response.

“Damn it.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Lilly asked, as she stepped into the employee kitchenette.

“Huh?” Wren looked up from her phone. “Oh. Nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing, the way you’re huffing and fidgeting over there. You’re biting your nails down to nubs. Eatsomething else. Here.” She tossed a cookie tin onto the table. “Birdie stopped by to drop these off.”

“I’m not hungry,” Wren said as she cracked open the container. Foil-wrapped chocolate kisses dotted with powdered sugar littered the mix of chocolate chip, peanut butter, and thumb-pressed jam cookies. She pulled out a peanut butter one and bit into it, then frowned. “Why do I taste mint?”

“Because Birdie made them. She’s a hot mess. I doubt she even owns measuring cups. She only brought them here in search of gossip.”

“Then why did you give them to me?” Wren spat the cookie back into the tin and shut the lid.

“Because you’ve been pouting all day. It’s the Christmas season. Don’t you know the rules about that?”

“What rules?”

Lilly bopped her head from side to side.“You better not pout, you better not cry…”She looked at her expectantly. “No?”

“I know the song, I just…” She didn’t have an excuse, not one she’d share with her staff. “Sorry. I’ll cheer up.” Wren tossed the tin of cookies into the trash and glanced at the schedule on the wall, searching for a distraction.

It might have only been December ninth, but Christmas ruled the calendar. Bodhi and Astrid were hosting a sound bath in the studio that evening. She stopped by to check on them, happy to see so many guests making use of the cozy chairs and the inviting fireplace in The Haven’s lounge on the way. Pine garland draped the mantels, and the scent of cinnamon candles mixed with woodsmoke created the perfect holiday atmosphere.

From the hall, she could hear the rattle of gongs and the hum of sound bowls followed by her aunt’s voice. “It sounds better over here, Bodhi. The acoustics are just better when we aren’t up against the glass. Plus, I don’t fancy freezing my ass off. There’s a draft.”

“There’s no breeze, Astrid.”

“Then why do I have wind up my back?”

“It’s probably coming from your own keister.”

“How’s it going in here?” Wren asked as she stepped into the studio.

Bodhi rolled his eyes as he relocated the gong away from the window.

“Your father thinks I have gas. I know my own damn smells, Bodhi. There’s a draft!”

Wren inspected the window. No obvious leaks caught her attention, but the temperature had dropped enough that a draft appeared to be present. “Maybe she’s right, Dad, and the wall would be a better backdrop. Especially for an evening session, when the sun’s down. I can also turn up the heat.”

“Speaking of turning up the heat,” Aunt Astrid said as she rummaged through her carpet bag. “Have you read the latest copy ofThe Almanac?”

Wren reluctantly took the town newspaper. “Why?”

“Page six.”

“Oh, no.” Wren turned to the opinion section, where Lady Lovewatch’s latest column dominated the page. Lady Lovewatch—if she even existed as a lady—was Hideaway Harbor’s most informed and mysterious gossip.

Wren skimmed the column, her stomach sinking each time she spotted her name printed in black ink. There was a write-up about the auction, and then the debacle about the check. Lady Lovewatch questioned why one brother would pay for the other. Then came the spectacle at the parade, reported in hearsay meant to pique the interest of those who still weren’t sold on the newest small-town secret romance. The more she read, the more she wanted to hide under a rock until the New Year.

“So, which is it?”

“Huh?” she looked up at her aunt from the paper.