Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
The crowd roared, and Wren laughed against his mouth, then smacked his chest. “You’re insane.”
“I’m staking my claim,” he said, eyes glinting with fierce intention. “There will be no more confusion about which Hawthorne you’re with from this point on.”
Rolling her eyes, her cheeks a deep ruby rose, she shook her head. “You’re a caveman.”
He yanked her to his side and proudly grinned with absolute male arrogance. “A caveman who’s finally got his perfect cave woman.”
She batted the hair out of her face and shook her head. “Suddenly, you’re an exhibitionist?”
“I spent almost two decades hiding my feelings. Time to switch things up.”
“I’m so glad I could assist you with that.”
Beyond the wharf, Ralph tripped and fell on his claws. Locke missed a step and nearly pitched over the lobster’s tail. The crowd cheered when Santa caught his balance in a dramatic leap that landed him right in front of the lobster trap tree.
“Ho-ho-ho!” the mayor called out, lifting the plug to light the tree. “Merry Christmas, Hideaway Harbor!”
The crowd cheered as the traps illuminated under the bright twinkling lights. Staggering forward and waving, Larry the Lobstah shoved Santa aside. The two spent the next few minutes trying to outperform each other, but Greyson had other plans.
“Have you ever seen the cabin of a fishing boat?”
Looking up at him knowingly, Wren smiled. “I can’t say I have.”
“Come with me.” His voice turned rough with promise. “I’ll show you the catch of the day.”
CHAPTER 25
“Brandy and Eggnog, There’s Plenty of Cheer”
“You dirty slut!”
Everyone in the Chowder House turned as Jocelyn barreled through the mob of patrons like a Viking queen on the front lines.
“Oh, shit.” Despite bracing for the collision, Wren was pummeled against the bar when her best friend plowed into her—full force—with a tackle hug.
“I saw you kissing on the ship, you naughty girl!”
Heat blazed across Wren’s cheeks. “Shhh.”
“Oh, please.” Jocelyn waved away her prudent words. “Everyone saw.” Punching Greyson in the arm, she grinned admirably. “Grey, you put that little brother of yours to shame! Nicely done.” Turning back to Wren, Jocelyn smiled around the swizzle straw of her half-drunk cocktail. “Soooo…how’s the cherry? Popped, I imagine.”
“Oh, my God.” Hiding her burning face in her hands, Wren peeked through her fingers at Greyson. “Maybe I will take that whiskey after all.”
“Two whiskeys,” Greyson yelled to the bartender.
Straightening her cockeyed Viking helmet, still adorned with the dangling clitoris ornaments hanging from each horn, Jocelyn frowned. “Two?”
Greyson shook his head. “You look plenty hydrated.”
“You’re no fun.” She stuck out her tongue and turned to Wren. “Tell your boy toy to loosen up.”
“I claim no control over any Hawthorne.”
“Yeah, right.” Jocelyn looped her arm around Wren’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s find a table.”
They grabbed an empty high-top as Jocelyn shoved dirty cups into a pile. “Girl, there’s no confusion now. Greyson marked you in front of the whole town!”
Wren’s face hadn’t stopped burning. “Was it bad?”
“Bad? Hell no. It was awesome! Boy doesn’t show his face unless it snows for nearly twenty years, and suddenly he’s ramming his tongue down your throat like a sailor on leave.”
Looking anxiously toward the bar, Wren waited for her drink.
“So,” Jocelyn said, leaning across the table. “How did it go?”
Shifting nervously, Wren hesitated. “It was…emotional.”
Her friend scrunched her nose. “Ew, really?”
“What’s wrong with emotional? We’ve been friends a really long time.”
“Do you mean emotional, like, orgasmic?”
“That, and…” She shrugged. “Earthshattering. Confirming. Beautiful.”
“Are you sure you did it right?”
“Yes, Jocelyn. Besides, that was just the first time.”
“Oh, thank Odin. Skip to the good stuff.” She waved her on. “I want details!”
Appearing with their drinks, Greyson handed one to Wren. She eagerly took a long sip then regretted it immediately, sputtering at the straight whiskey.
The bar was packed elbow-to-elbow with holiday cheer, mismatched string lights blinking overhead as off-key patrons sang along to Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.
Greyson bracketed his arms around her as if he didn’t plan on letting her out of his sight until spring thawed. He’d barely taken his hands off her since they docked.
“It’s so weird seeing you two like this,” Jocelyn said, gawking at them. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”
The front door banged open, and snow flurried in with new arrivals—Soren leading the herd.
“Here we go.” Greyson waved his brother over.
Soren approached, brushing snowflakes from his shoulders. “Wren. Grey.”
“Hi, Soren.” Wren smiled nervously, remembering the last time they spoke.
He gave a tight grin. “Quite a show you put on today.”
“What can I say? I’m not one to be outdone,” Greyson smirked.
“Well, well, well. Look what the nor’easter blew in.” Jocelyn latched onto Soren’s shoulder.
“Still got the charming voice of a sea hag, huh Joce?”
Unimpressed, Soren turned back to Wren. “Did you like the boat ride?”
“It was really cool seeing everything from the other side.”
“That’s probably the last one.”
Her smile faltered. “Why?”