Page 190 of The Holiday Clause

“Liar.”

He closed the distance, yanking the lapels of her coat together and also pulling her in for a kiss. Holding her stare, he whispered, “I’m enjoying watching you. It doesn’t matter if everything else goes over my head. As long as you’re by my side and having fun, I’m happy.”

She bit off the arm of the gingerbread and studied him as she slowly chewed. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. Let’s keep shopping.”

The next store carried quilts and other house-type things. Wren admired the detailed stitching of one blanket in particular, and he wondered if it reminded her of her mom. Weighed down by gift bags, he stood beside her. “If you like it, let’s get it.” It wasn’t a Christmas quilt, but she seemed to think it was nice.

She smiled and turned away, moving on to the next display. “I noticed your dad likes the blanket I gave him.” When he looked at her in confusion, she said, “The sapphire plaid one.”

He hadn’t realized that was from her. But she was right, his dad asked for it whenever his legs got cold. “How come you didn’t tell me you visited him in the hospital?”

Wren shrugged and continued perusing the displays. “It didn’t come up.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“No, Greyson. I went to the hospital and just stared at him. What kind of question is that? Of course, I talked to him.”

He frowned, trailing behind as she moved to the other side of the aisle. “What did you two talk about?”

“Reagan.”

“As in Ronald, the past president?”

“Yeah.”

“You visited my dad in the hospital and talked about Ronald Reagan?”

“Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t realize you were a Reagan fan.”

She snorted, a decidedly unladylike sound. “I’m not, but your dad mentioned him once when we were young, so I picked up a biography for him.”

“You bought my dad a book?”

“Well, it was on the shelf at The Haven. A guest probably left it.” She stopped walking and faced him. “Are you mad?”

“No. I’m just trying to picture you there, at the hospital, giving my dad a book.”

“I also gave him a massage.”

“No, you didn’t.” He laughed.

“I did.”

Holy shit, she wasn’t kidding. “You know my dad’s made grown men piss themselves in meetings before.”

“He’s just a man, Greyson.”

Just a man.That was the understatement of the century.

It was dusk by the time they drove home. As the sun slipped behind the mountains, the temperature dropped with it. Christmas lights blinked to life on every rooftop and railing, transforming the town into a constellation at their feet.

“Stop the truck,” Wren called, and he slammed on the brakes. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned up on the dash to better see out the windshield. “Look how pretty!”

The Wishing Bridge appeared through the falling snow like something from a Christmas card. Ancient stone arches spanned the babbling brook, every surface blanketed in pristine white. Glass mason jars lined the railings, each containing a flickering candle.