Page 66 of The Holiday Clause

Wren dropped her head into her palms and groaned. “I don’t know. Logan felt too personal. I can’t go there with him. He’s always been different with me than the other two.”

“It’s because you’re closer in age.”

“Probably. But how will he feel if I date his brother or brothers after turning him down?Gah!”Wren slouched and groaned, covering her face with both hands. “I’m a terrible person! I should just tell them all no and go out with Noah.”

“Hold up. Who the hell is Noah?”

“Some guy from my yoga class who asked me out.”

“Damn, girl, your shit’s on fire.Fourmen?”

She looked at her friend through splayed fingers. “Joce, what do I do?”

“Get comfy. You’re on the Naughty List this year. Why not enjoy it?”

Wren looked at her in pure desperation. “I don’t know how to enjoy this without hurting them. This is all going to blow up in my face.”

“No, it’s not. We just need to set some ground rules.” Her posture straightened as she ticked off fingers. “First, Logan’s too deep in the friend zone. You can nip that one in the bud right now. This Noah guy... What’s he like?”

“Meh.” Wren shrugged. “He’s all right, I guess?—“

“Gone. Off the list. We’re not wasting time on meh.” A third finger went up. “Soren’s got game and he’s a good kisser.”

“He’s also open to talking about a future.”

“Right, but we don’t know if he’s in it for love, or just doing this for the inheritance.”

Her blunt summation left Wren startled. “Do you think that’s it?”

Jocelyn shrugged. “I think it’s a part of this. I mean, would he have come at you so aggressively if there wasn’t a time crunch with his dad’s health?”

“No.”

“So, it’s definitely a factor. In book world, we call that the catalyst. But there are always unforeseen twists. And, hey, there are plenty of arranged, contractual marriages that end in orgasms and love.”

Wren tried to envision a future with Soren, but the vision was blurry. Familiar settings but no one had a head. All the males in her fantasy were faceless and unidentifiable. “My future’s headless.”

“Stop. What about Greyson?” Jocelyn did that slow, wicked smile that was usually followed by a phone call requesting bail money. “Now, Greyson is a man who needs massive emotional exfoliating. He’s been compressing his feelings for so long, I think he’s man-stipated.”

“Man-stipated?”

“Yeah, you know... Emotionally constipated, repressed, his heart’s too small, like he has Grinch syndrome. He’s a Great Wall of Guy. Emotionally Amish and suffering from the feelings famine. He’s in a tear duct drought?—“

“Okay, okay. I get it.” If you didn’t stop Jocelyn once she started, you ended up with a bit of a runaway train scenario.

“But you get it?”

Boy, did she ever. “Yes, I’m well aware that Greyson buried his feelings the day we buried our moms.”

The appropriate silence followed at the mention of her mother. Life would have been so much easier with her here.There were times Wren could have really used some wise, feminine guidance. Of course, she had her dad and Aunt Astrid and all of her friends, but nothing ever replaced a mom.

Wren had a terrible thought. “What if he just... can’t?”

“Can’t what, perform? What were you dry humping the other day? I assumed he was at least hard.”

“No, I mean, what if it’s just not in him to open up?”

“Look, I’ve written thirty-five books, and conquered my fair share of emotionally repressed lumberjacks. That man needs to be climbed like a snowy mountain. He’s one of those guys where you gotta break ‘em down casually. Show ‘em a boob or two. Get them hooked on the hookup. And then—slowly—dissolve his other barriers.”