Page 22 of The Holiday Clause

When she smiled, her entire face lit up. Wren didn’t cake on makeup like some women. He wasn’t even sure she wore any. She spent so much time outdoors, taking retreat guests on nature walks and doing weird hippie shit in the woods. She always had a sun-kissed glow and cinnamon sprinkle of freckles over her nose.

“I love it,” she admitted. “You did an incredible job on the beams.”

He’d spent a year harvesting the perfect lumber and shaping those beams exactly as Wren had described. “I’m glad you’re happy with it.”

An oversized flurry fluttered onto her lash, and she flicked it away. “I guess you want the guests to move their cars.”

“It would help.”

She sighed. “Make sure you keep track of your hours.”

“Don’t be dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. People pay good money for snow removal.”

“I don’t do it for the money.”

“Well, you’re still paying for gas and salt. Don’t be a stubborn jackass about it.”

He scoffed. “You’re the only person who gets away with talking to me like that.”

“You don’t scare me, GreysonElowenHawthorne.”

His mouth firmed into a flat line, and his eyes widened. “Keep it down.” Very few people knew his middle name.

She snickered. “You either let me pay you or I tell everyone that you were named after your mother’s mother.”

He leaned over her, purposely crowding her as he narrowed his eyes. “Try, and there will be consequences.”

She jutted out her chin. “No there won’t.”

She was right. He talked a big game, but he never followed through on his threats when it came to Wren. She wasone of them, which was why she was everyone’s first thought when their father made that ridiculous proposal. She’d fit right in as a Hawthorne.

He recalled the guy she was talking to when he arrived. He didn’t look like her type. Or maybe he did. It was hard to tell, considering that Wren never really dated anyone. The guy had been holding a yoga mat. Greyson didn’t even know where they sold such things.

The wind picked up, and she drew the lapels of her sweater together. He frowned. “Don’t you own a coat?”

“I can’t find it.”

He rolled his eyes and went to the cab of his truck where he had an extra flannel jacket with a quilted lining. “How Darwinism hasn’t taken out your line is beyond me.” He draped the flannel over her shoulders, dwarfing her by its size, and she smiled.

“Thanks. And evolution can’t touch us. We were the gatherers and shamans.”

“You better not be eating those mushrooms in the woods again.”

“Lion’s mane is not poisonous.”

“Wren, stop eating shit from the dirt!”

“Everything comes from the dirt.”

He’d heard enough. “I’m sure you and that yogi will have tons of fun foraging from the trees and chanting in drum circles.”

“What yogi?”

“The guy from your class.”

“That’s the third time you’ve brought him up. Do you want me to get his number for you?”