Chapter 24 #3
“No problem.” Holding onto it, she took pity on Ralph and offered, “Do you want me to set it up for you?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I can’t get these darn claws to cooperate.” As soon as he lifted a hand, the oversized claw sagged dramatically, whacking him in the head.
“The town really should invest in a newer costume.”
“That’s up to the treasury,” Mayor Locke said, refilling the thermos cup with more steaming cider.
Ralph frowned from under the enormous headpiece. “Yet, somehow Santa got some new duds this year.”
When they all looked over at Mayor Locke’s spiffy new boots, he blustered, “Well, let’s face it, Santa’s the main event. You have to know where you rank, Ralph.”
“Larry the Lobstah is a time-honored tradition! He’s just as popular as Saint Nick. Tell him, guys.”
Greyson shook his head and Wren shrugged. “Sorry, Ralph. Nothing beats Santa.”
“Whatever.” Waving a floppy claw, he instructed, “Track one. It’s a nonstop loop of holiday music. Volume ten.”
As Wren connected the playlist to the Bluetooth speaker, Greyson steered them toward open waters with deft confidence.
The twin diesel engines purred like old cougars beneath the deck, and sea spray hit cold against his face as the boat nosed into the bay.
Wind screamed from the northeast, belting the garland against the ship rails as Ralph’s lobster claws twitched violently.
Closing his gloved hand around the throttle, Greyson shifted forward, easing the Sable Rose into deeper waters. The salt-stained memories of the merciless sea felt familiar and nostalgic in a way he couldn’t express into words.
“Give me your hand,” he called to Wren.
She stepped closer, and he moved her in front of his body, blocking her from the spray. He curled her fingers around the throttle and pulled back, giving the ship a bit more speed. She smiled as the ship’s impressive power moved under her command.
“Feel that?” He pressed her other hand to the wheel. “Give it a pull. You’re in control.”
When she did, and the ship moved with her guidance, she squeaked with excitement. “Oh, my God! I’m steering a ship!”
He pressed his lips close to her ear, his breath warming her skin despite the frigid air. “Don’t tell the Coast Guard.”
As she let her weight sag into him, he once again had the urge to take her. Maybe they could steal a few seconds below deck once they dropped off the other passengers.
The radio crackled. “Anchor One, this is Silver Spoon. What’s your location?” Soren’s voice came clipped across the speakers as the music blasted from the stereo. “Parents are gettin’ antsy and the kids are chanting. They want the big guy.”
Ralph perked up but instantly deflated when Greyson shook his head. “He means Santa.”
“I’m sure they’re just as excited to see Larry,” Wren said, taking pity on Ralph.
His face lit with enthusiasm. “Thanks, Wren.”
Great. Another admirer. What the hell did it say about him when a woman could make him jealous of Ralph Peabody?
“Copy that,” Greyson answered, then clicked off the radio as he turned the ship into harbor. They rounded the coast slowly, his gaze shifting between Wren’s excited expression and the docks ahead.
Beyond the wharf, hundreds of townsfolk lined the shore. Children bounced in place, their scarves flapping, as little hands gripped the wooden rails. Adults sipped steaming beverages from to-go mugs, shoulders hunched against the whipping winds.
The music selection blared over the choppy waves, echoing off the walls of the cove. Sleigh bells clattered from Santa’s gloved fist, the one not holding the thermos of spiced rum.
Leaning in, cheeks rosy and smile bright, Wren joked, “Can you believe some towns actually have serious traditions?”
“Not ours.” Greyson laughed. “We were never the Plymouth Rock sort.”
“Nope, nothing but unhinged settlers on our rickety version of the Mayflower.”
As they rounded the jetty, the wharf came into full view under the setting sun. Pine wreaths dotted every light post that illuminated the harbor.
A giant pile of lobster traps formed a pyramid resembling a Christmas tree in the center of the crowd, waiting for Santa to do the honors and hit the lights. At the very top perched a fiberglass cutout of Larry the Lobstah.
“Look at the top of the tree! Ha! Who’s the star now?” Ralph yelled.
“Should we tell him Santa beats angel?” Greyson mumbled.
Wren swatted him in the arm. “Let him dream.”
The crowd erupted the moment they spotted the ship. “Ralph, put your head on! You’re gonna traumatize the kids.”
“Trying.” Staggering back, Ralph accepted help from the mayor, who shoved the lobster head into place and secured it with a solid thump to ensure it didn’t twist out of place.
“Now, wave!”
Waving a floppy claw in the air, Ralph reeled from side to side with the ship. Kids craned their necks and rushed to the railings to wave and scream.
One day, his brother would be steering this ship, and he and Wren would be watching from the wharf, a little one on his shoulders and maybe another bundled up in the stroller. Maybe even one in her belly. That day might come sooner than planned at the rate they were going.
Reaching for Wren, he hooked an arm around her hip and held her to his side. Flattening his hand over her stomach possessively. She looked up at him in question.
“I want to have a family with you,” he said, his voice barely carrying over the wind.
“What?” she yelled over the music and crowd noise.
“I want to have kids! With you!” he shouted, but his words got lost in the chaos.
“I didn’t bring any,” she yelled back, completely missing what he said.
A gust of wind shoved the boat sideways, and Greyson adjusted the rudder smoothly, shifting his weight without thought, without letting Wren go. The Sable Rose sliced through the harbor like she’d been born for ceremony.
The music blared the same holiday tune for the fifth time. Ralph waved his limp claw while Santa performed with more pomp than all the English royalty and the Pope combined.
“Ho-ho-ho!” Mayor Locke chanted with theatrical glee.
“No fair, lobsters don’t talk,” Ralph complained.
“You just work on keeping those claws up,” Wren yelled, then squeaked as her hat flew off like a gull sailing over the water. “Oh, no!” Her hair flapped and tangled wildly in the breeze, coming completely undone.
Greyson’s laughter faded as he noticed the adults in the crowd pointing at something. But they weren’t looking at Larry the Lobstah or Santa.
Wren shrank into his side, slipping behind him as if to use his body as a shield.
They were all pointing at her, the woman by his side.
It was small-town theater, and Wren was the unwilling star.
A fierce protectiveness surged through him as he blocked her from view, creating a barrier between her and the gawking crowd.
In this town, a whispered rumor could spread faster than the current. He should strangle Soren. This was his damn fault. If not for his damn brother making a scene at the auction last week, people might have overlooked Wren’s presence at his side.
Speak of the devil. Soren’s voice clipped over the radio. “Are you kidding me, Grey? Is that Wren with you?”
Ignoring his brother’s question, he turned to Wren. “You ready for the finale?”
“I thought Larry and Santa were the finale.”
“Not this year.” Slowing the boat as it approached the wharf, Greyson sounded its horn in a long, festive braaahmp that echoed across the water.
If they wanted a show, he’d give them one. He pulled the ship into harbor and docked with practiced precision. But when Wren tried to step off with the others he caught her wrist, pulling her back against his chest.
“What are you doing?”
He smiled. “If they’re going to gossip about us, let’s give them something worth talking about. Wave.”
With wide eyes, she followed his lead and waved at the people. They cheered and yelled, but he couldn’t make out a single word as that stupid lobster song played for the tenth time.
“You remember when I said you were mine?” His voice dropped to that possessive rumble she’d come to recognize.
“What?” she screamed over the music, unable to hear him.
That was fine. He’d much rather show her. Grinning, he dipped her back without warning, planting his lips on her with unmistakable entitlement for all of Hideaway Harbor to see.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss or a private one.
He intentionally gave the town a show-stopping, hat-snatching, sunglass-tossing, spine-arching, breathless spectacle that couldn’t possibly be misinterpreted by his brothers or anyone else.
It was a public declaration that would leave no room for doubt about who Wren belonged to.
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.”