Page 67 of The Holiday Clause

“He won’t let that happen. Every time he touches me he tells me it can’t happen again.”

“He’s like a masochist. I think he gets off on denying himself.”

“Or, he’s just not that into me.”

“Don’t make me slap you. First of all—“ She went back to ticking off fingers. “All the Hawthornes are secretly in love with you. Everyone knows it and so does Greyson, which is why he’s always told them you’re off limits. I’ll die on that mountain, and if you deny it, you’re as much of a liar as he is. Second—“ Another finger went up. “Greyson goes nuts whenever anyone shows any interest in you. He’s the worst of all of them. And C, he’s prime male lead material—strong, independent, silent, pensive...Gah!They’re the best ones.”

Wren laughed despite herself. “You think?”

“Absolutely! If I were to write him into one of my Viking novels, I’d name him something likeGunner the Broody. He exudes moody recluse vibes. Very hot. Women eat that shit up.”

They shared a moment of silence to sit back and sip their peanut butter cocktails, picturing Greyson’s handsome bodyunder all that emotional intensity. Wren smiled, recalling how entranced she had been by the sight of him without his shirt, all muscle and scars and masculine beauty. She was so much calmer than she’d been minutes ago and realized why.

“Good call on the whisky.”

“Right?” Jocelyn turned the bottle to admire the label. “Speaking of protein, are you gonna blow him?”

Wren choked as a sip went down the wrong pipe. Gasping and sputtering, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “There’s something wrong with you.”

Jocelyn laughed. “One hundred percent. But can you imagine him staring down at you with that predatory smolder? Girl, you need to get him inside of you one way or another.”

“It’s not like I live a celibate life by choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Wren. You could have had a road-banger take your cherry years ago. I think part of you always wanted to save it for…a special Hawthorne.”

She shot her an unimpressed look. They both knew there was only one Hawthorne she ever fantasized about that way. “What the hell’s a road-banger?”

“You know, a rando, someone who gets the job done but never learns where you live.”

“Gross. I still have standards, Joce.”

She didn’t need her first time to be withThe Onebut she also didn’t want it to be with a meaningless stranger. Truthfully, Greyson was always supposed to be her first. He’s the only one she ever pictured. When that didn’t happen, she figured he just needed more time. So she pushed herself a little longer, then a little longer, then... a little longer.

“What if it never happens?”

“It’s happening!”

Wren sighed, not sharing her friend’s optimism or confidence. “What can I do?”

“What can youdo?Wren, honey, you’re beautiful. You’ve got tits and a great ass. Use them.”

“To do what?”

Jocelyn pinched the bridge of her nose. “For the love of orgasms, read some romance. Help yourself to anything in my library.”

“This isn’t fiction. It’s real life, Joce.”

“Real life can be hot and romantic too, Wren.”

“How? How do I make it hot when he still sees me as off limits?”

“This sort of reminds me of chapter twenty-three ofRavished by the Fjord King.”

“That doesn’t help me.”

“You’re dealing with a slow-burn romance. The excruciating sort, since I’m pretty sure he’s carried a torch for you since kindergarten.”

“No, he hasn’t.”