Page 94 of The Holiday Clause

“Give it a sec!”

Greyson paced toward the wall where Soren had a pretentious assortment of unopened champagne bottles displayed like trophies. It made quite a collection, yet he never saw his brother drink a single glass of champagne in his life.

“What are you saving these for?”

Soren shrugged, his shoulders heavy with something unspoken. “A special occasion.”

There were at least fifty bottles, some worth well over a thousand dollars, their labels gleaming like promises. “That’ll be some occasion.”

“Yeah. I guess I’ve been preserving them so long they seem a little too special to crack open.”

He understood that sentiment all too well, the ache of it settling deep in his chest. He’d been protecting Wren for more than a decade, keeping her at arm’s length like his most precious possession. Opening this particular Pandora’s Box felt wrong on every level. Dangerous and reckless. It also felt like the reward of a lifetime, the sweetest sin he’d ever consider committing.

“Did you hear that?” Soren frowned, his head tilting.

“What?”

“I heard a squeak. Did that come from your stomach?”

Greyson unzipped his coat, the metallic rasp cutting through the silence. “It’s Rat.”

“You brought a fucking rat into my house?”

“No.” He lifted the kitten like a toast, and the tiny creature squawked again.

“What the fuck is that?”

“I found it under my porch. He’s too small to live with the other rescues yet.”

“So you’re just carrying him around like a Momma Kangaroo?” His brother laughed, the sound rich and incredulous. “Living in the woods is making you weird, bro.”

Greyson stroked Rat between the ears as his little sticky claws tried to catch his calloused fingers. “He’s feral. The mom abandoned him, so he needs to be socialized for a few weeks.”

“So, you’re just sittin’ at home playing with yarn and bottle feeding that runt? Charming.”

“Wren’s got a lot on her plate right now.”

“There it is. I knew you didn’t volunteer to play nursemaid to a cat on your own.”

His brother cut straight to the bone. Nothing in him wanted to take care of an underweight kitten, but Wren had assumed he would, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her no. Besides, Rat actually seemed kind of cool, growing on him like moss on a tree.

“Nothing charming about this little hell spawn. He might look like a dust bunny, but he’s packin’ murder mittens. He has no regard for personal space or the laws of physics, and I’m pretty sure he’s training for a prison break. I’m not adopting him. I’m just trying to keep him alive until he’s big enough to move in with the others at the sanctuary.”

“Keep pretending it’s an inconvenience. Nicely played.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Grey. That little rodent keeps her coming by, doesn’t it? Pretend all you want that you don’t know what you’re doing. I’m not that stupid.”

Sharp truth cut him open like a blade. As long as Rat lived with him, Wren would stop by to check on him, her presence filling all the empty spaces in his life.

He’d been running out of excuses to visit The Haven now that construction on the yoga studio had concluded. And, God help him, he really liked when she came to his house. He liked the way her scent clung to the furniture, and how she unconsciously arranged the crap by his sink whenever she used the bathroom, making his space more homey.

Feeling exposed and desperate to flee, he snapped, “She get back to you yet?”

Soren tapped his phone and frowned, the expression darkening his features. “No.”

Greyson shifted and glanced out the front window, letting Rat tour the sill with curious whiskers twitching.