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?”
Looking at Grey, Soren shrugged. “I guess you guys haven’t discussed all the details yet.”
“Not now, Soren,” Greyson warned.
“Better watch it, Soren,” Jocelyn teased. “Your big brother staked a claim in front of the whole town. No way you’re getting close enough to make her cry this time.”
“This time?” Scowling, Greyson demanded, “There was a first time?”
“She didn’t cry,” Soren said, matter-of-factly, and Jocelyn scoffed.
“Like you would know. A real man would at least stick around to clean up his mess.”
Soren’s expression shifted to panic, but before he could clarify, Greyson took a menacing step forward. “Did you make her fucking cry?”
“Grey, it’s fine.” Wren caught his sleeve. “I told you we had an argument. It’s over now. It’s Christmas. Let’s not fight.”
Continuing to glare at his brother, Greyson tensed, but Soren only looked disturbed by the news. “Wren, can I talk to you for a minute—outside?”
Tightening his arm, Greyson refused, “She’s staying here.”
“What are you, her fucking keeper now?”
Jocelyn’s gaze brightened with anticipation. “Oooh, them’s fightin’ words.”
“Jocelyn, knock it off.” Wrenching Greyson’s arm off her hip, Wren excused herself. “We’ll be right back.” She didn’t stop moving until they made it to the sidewalk, then she turned on him. “What, Soren?”
“I’m sorry if I made you cry.”
“What about the things you said. Are you sorry for that?”
His mouth firmed. “I got pissed. I don’t remember what I said.”
“You basically wished me a miserable life and said I deserved to chase Greyson forever because he’s never going to change.”
“I got angry, and, obviously, I was wrong.”
“You were wrong, Soren. And you hurt me.”
Sighing, he looked down. “I’m sorry, Wren. I got jealous.”
Her defenses came down. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know. I have feelings too, you know?”
“It’s not like I planned any of this.”
“But you wanted it.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I wanted this for a very long time, Soren. I’m sorry if that’s difficult to hear, but it’s the truth.”
A cloud formed as he blew out a deep breath. “Well, if that’s the case, I hope he’s everything you dreamed.”
“Thank you.”
“We’re okay?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, we’re okay.”
“Let’s go back inside. It’s fucking freezing and I need a drink.”
Back at the table, Logan had arrived, his curls bouncing above the sea of hats. “Hey.” Kissing Wren’s cheek, he smiled. “You look better. Got your color back.”
Looking slightly harassed after being left alone with Jocelyn, Greyson immediately moved to Wren’s side. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. It was a good talk.”
“So I don’t need to kick anyone’s ass?”
“Not tonight.”
“So, this is awkward,” Logan said, sipping a beer. “Grey and Wren. Wren and Grey.”
“Maybe say it a few more times,” Soren grumbled.
“Someone sounds jealous,” Jocelyn sang into her slushy red cocktail.
“Hardly.”
Greyson grinned, proudly sliding a possessive arm around Wren’s shoulders. “You wish.”
“Can we all just make a unified adjustment and get over the awkwardness?” Wren said, taking a deep breath. “Yes, Greyson and I are now a couple. But I’m still Wren and he’s still Grey.”
“Except you’re banging.”
All eyes turned to Jocelyn. Wren stilled. “Thanks, Joce. Helpful as always.”
Logan, shoving right past the awkwardness, lifted his beer. “To the new couple.”
“Thank you, Logan.” Looking up at Grey, Wren prompted, “Say thank you.”
“Thanks.”
Soren rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, this feels totally natural. Like a root canal with an ice skate. I’m not at all uncomfortable.”
“Someone sounds jealous,” Jocelyn sang.
Soren glared at her. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Hey, my words are money. Be grateful you get them for free.”
As the evening wore on, things only got messier. Even the mayor was drunk, standing on chairs with Ralph organizing some kind of holiday football pool.
The boys ordered another round, but every sip only made Wren count down the minutes until they were alone again. Finally, warm lips pressed against her temple. “You ready to go after this?”
Smiling up at Greyson, she gave a subtle nod. As fun as this was, she’d rather be back in his bed.
When Jocelyn nearly fell off her chair, Soren jumped into action. “I’ve got her.” He hooked an arm under Jocelyn’s as she became as slippery as a Jell-O shot.
“You sure?” Wren asked.
“Yeah. My car’s right out front.”
“We’re heading out, too,” Greyson announced, tossing cash on the table.
Outside, the temperature had dropped another ten degrees. “How are we getting home?”
“It’s taken care of.” Greyson pointed to a horse-drawn sleigh waiting at the end of the street.
She gaped at him. “Are you serious?”
“Come on.” He led her to the sleigh and greeted the driver. “How’s it going, Gus?”
Mr. Pemberley grinned. “You did a fine job pulling that ship into harbor, Greyson. Your dad would have been proud.”
Settling onto the red velvet seat, Wren pulled the emerald throw over her lap while Greyson poured steaming cocoa.
“Don’t forget the lids. Trails can get bumpy,” Gus warned.
Sleigh bells jingled as they literally dashed through the snow. Cuddling into Greyson’s side, Wren asked, “What about the boat?”
“My brothers and I will get it in the morning.”
Pulling the reins, Mr. Pemberley turned the heavy sleigh away from the breeze and headed deeper into the woods, following a dark trail that led directly to Greyson’s house. The jingle of sleigh bells created the melody as they sipped cocoa and cuddled close to escape the cold.
The sleigh shifted slightly over a rut in the trail, and her hand instinctively shot out, grabbing Greyson’s thigh for balance. Tensing beneath her fingers, his muscles responded, and she meant to pull away, to laugh it off—but he covered her hand with his, keeping it there, anchoring her to him.
Their eyes met and the silence between them crackled with unspoken desires.
Brushing his finger along the inside of her wrist, slow and deliberate, Greyson moved his thumb with intent.
Her pulse leapt to meet his touch, and a small, involuntary gasp escaped her lips.
His hand closed around her wrist and squeezed.
He leaned close, his cold nose brushing her cheek. “You’re trembling.”
Giving him a knowing look, she said nothing. Her wanting was perfectly clear.