Chapter 11 #4
Nora snorted. “She and Kasi tried to act out one scene, trying to prove it wasn’t physically possible. I thought Manny was going to have a heart attack, he was laughing so hard.”
Wren’s eyes widened. “Manny’s part of the romance book club?
” Manny Millholland was Edith’s fifty-something, never-married nephew, who lived in the guesthouse behind his aunt’s place.
He was the living embodiment of a teddy bear, but she still couldn’t see him reading and discussing romance novels with a bunch of women.
“To be fair,” Remi said, “Manny’s main reason for coming is the food, but still… He reads the books and joins the discussions. When he’s not laughing or blushing too hard.”
“Can you blame the man for blushing? You and Kasi were trying to recruit him to act out that ménage scene with you,” Nora said, laughing. “As you can see,” she turned her attention back to Wren, “we need someone to guide us, maybe help us discuss stuff like the writing, the plot, the emotions.”
Remi faked a yawn. “Boooooring.”
Wren was ridiculously excited about the invitation, which seemed to be one more piece of evidence that she had indeed turned a corner in her life. Because social settings—big or small—had always made her uneasy.
Nora flipped her phone around. “This is the book we’re reading this month. Our next meeting is Saturday evening. I realize that might be too soon.”
Wren recognized the cover. “We have that book in the library, so I could start reading it tomorrow. I can finish it by Saturday, easy.”
Lark snorted. “She’ll probably be finished with it by tomorrow afternoon. I’ve never seen anyone who can sit and read for hours on end.”
“It’s easy to do when you’re capable of sitting still for longer than three minutes at a time,” Wren replied. Teasing each other came easy to her and Lark, neither of them ever taking offense.
“Awesome,” Nora said, handing Wren her phone. “Plug in your contact info and I’ll text you the details, time, and snack sign-up sheet.”
“You sign up?” Wren asked, amused.
Nora nodded. “Ever since the chip incident a few months ago. Every single one of us had fallen short on time to make something, so we all showed up with a bag of chips.”
“That was when Manny insisted on a sign-up sheet. I think he probably still has nightmares about it,” Remi joked.
“Mainly because it was the one time Kasi didn’t bring something delicious that she’d baked. I swear that woman is the queen of pies,” Nora added.
Wren had bought way too many of Kasi’s pies from her family’s fruit stand. “Those pies are the reason why I walk to work. Gotta burn off the calories somehow.”
Grayson shook his head. “You don’t have to burn off anything. You look great.”
Wren smiled, too aware of the heat creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. Manny was going to have some competition in the blushing department, because it was a curse Wren seemed incapable of breaking.
She was also aware that Lark, who’d been gabbing nonstop with Everett about some TV show called Silo, had overheard Grayson’s compliment. Wren pointedly kept her gaze on her glass rather than look at her sister, who was staring at her—hard.
A slow song started to play, and Grayson glanced toward the dance floor. Wren saw him looking between her and Lark, hesitantly.
“Wanna dance?” Everett asked Lark, when she announced how much she loved the song.
“Sure.” Lark hopped up quickly, and within seconds, Remi and Nora had both been approached by local guys with the same request.
“Dance with me?” Grayson asked.
Panic hit instantly. Fast, cold, hard.
“I don’t dance,” she blurted.
Grayson was undeterred. “I could teach you.”
She bit her lower lip, gazing toward the dance floor. It was too crowded, with too many bodies packed closely together.
A cold chill crept over her skin as old memories pressed against the edges of her mind—the smell of bourbon, large hands grabbing her, nowhere to move, too hard to breathe.
Claustrophobia had been a fact of life since she was nine years old. It was why she avoided crowds. The festival hadn’t triggered her fear because she’d stayed safely behind the tables, protected by physical distance and a solid wooden barrier.
“I’m serious,” she said quietly. “I don’t dance.”
Something in her tone must have reached him, because his expression softened. “No problem.”
Wren drew in a steadying breath, relieved when he gave her an easygoing smile. He didn’t tease or push, and there was no disappointment in his gaze. Just acceptance.
Then, Grayson went one step further in calming her down when he started talking about books again. He knew exactly how to put her at ease, something very few people were capable of.
When the slow song ended, everyone else returned to the table. Everett and Remi spent ten solid minutes arguing over whether a horror movie counted as romantic if the couple survived together.
The rest of the evening passed surprisingly fast, and Wren actually found herself enjoying it. For the first time in a very long time, she felt almost…normal.
By the end of the night, everyone gathered near the exit, saying their goodbyes.
She and Lark had walked, as Whiskey Abbey was only a couple of blocks from Wren’s apartment.
Main Street was very well-lit and since crime in Gracemont was practically nil, it was perfectly safe for them to walk at night.
The Storms headed for the parking lot.
Unable to resist, Wren glanced over her shoulder, at the same time Grayson did the same thing.
He gave her another wave, and warmth bloomed in her chest…along with something much more dangerous.
Hope.