Page 166 of The Holiday Clause

“Look at the top of the tree!Ha!Who’s the star now?” Ralph yelled.

“Should we tell him Santa beats angel?” Greyson mumbled.

Wren swatted him in the arm. “Let him dream.”

The crowd erupted the moment they spotted the ship. “Ralph, put your head on! You’re gonna traumatize the kids.”

“Trying.” Staggering back, Ralph accepted help from the mayor, who shoved the lobster head into place and secured it with a solid thump to ensure it didn’t twist out of place.

“Now, wave!”

Waving a floppy claw in the air, Ralph reeled from side to side with the ship. Kids craned their necks and rushed to the railings to wave and scream.

One day, his brother would be steering this ship, and he and Wren would be watching from the wharf, a little one on hisshoulders and maybe another bundled up in the stroller. Maybe even one in her belly. That day might come sooner than planned at the rate they were going.

Reaching for Wren, he hooked an arm around her hip and held her to his side. Flattening his hand over her stomach possessively. She looked up at him in question.

“I want to have a family with you,” he said, his voice barely carrying over the wind.

“What?” she yelled over the music and crowd noise.

“I want to have kids! With you!” he shouted, but his words got lost in the chaos.

“I didn’t bring any,” she yelled back, completely missing what he said.

A gust of wind shoved the boat sideways, and Greyson adjusted the rudder smoothly, shifting his weight without thought, without letting Wren go. The Sable Rose sliced through the harbor like she’d been born for ceremony.

The music blared the same holiday tune for the fifth time. Ralph waved his limp claw while Santa performed with more pomp than all the English royalty and the Pope combined.

“Ho-ho-ho!” Mayor Locke chanted with theatrical glee.

“No fair, lobsters don’t talk,” Ralph complained.

“You just work on keeping those claws up,” Wren yelled, then squeaked as her hat flew off like a gull sailing over the water. “Oh, no!” Her hair flapped and tangled wildly in the breeze, coming completely undone.

Greyson’s laughter faded as he noticed the adults in the crowd pointing at something. But they weren’t looking at Larry theLobstahor Santa.

Wren shrank into his side, slipping behind him as if to use his body as a shield. They were all pointing at her, the woman by his side. It was small-town theater, and Wren was the unwilling star. A fierce protectiveness surged through him as he blockedher from view, creating a barrier between her and the gawking crowd.

In this town, a whispered rumor could spread faster than the current. He should strangle Soren. This was his damn fault. If not for his damn brother making a scene at the auction last week, people might have overlooked Wren’s presence at his side.

Speak of the devil. Soren’s voice clipped over the radio. “Are you kidding me, Grey? Is that Wren with you?”

Ignoring his brother’s question, he turned to Wren. “You ready for the finale?”

“I thought Larry and Santa were the finale.”

“Not this year.” Slowing the boat as it approached the wharf, Greyson sounded its horn in a long, festivebraaahmpthat echoed across the water.

If they wanted a show, he’d give them one. He pulled the ship into harbor and docked with practiced precision. But when Wren tried to step off with the others he caught her wrist, pulling her back against his chest.

“What are you doing?”

He smiled. “If they’re going to gossip about us, let’s give them something worth talking about. Wave.”

With wide eyes, she followed his lead and waved at the people. They cheered and yelled, but he couldn’t make out a single word as that stupid lobster song played for the tenth time.

“You remember when I said you were mine?” His voice dropped to that possessive rumble she’d come to recognize.