Chapter Nine
A m I overdressed?” Wren asked her brother Pete as he lounged on her couch, eating a bag of Dynamites and watching Law and Order . Duke was curled up on top of her brother’s feet, watching her with interest.
Pete glanced away from the TV, his face covered in red dust from the chips, and when he opened his mouth to speak, Wren saw the semi-chewed chips lingering inside.
“Nah, you look good,” he said, smacking and chewing.
“And you’re disgusting.” She stepped into a pair of simple black boots, shooting him a dry look. “Seriously, how are we related?”
“You want me to explain the birds and the bees to you, little sis?” Pete grinned, holding up his hands, pressing his red fingertips together. “You see, our mom and dad decided to—”
“Nope, stop.” Wren shook her head. “If you do not learn some manners right quick, I’m going to boot you out of my place.”
“Nah, you love me. Warts and all.”
Wren laughed because he was right. Of all her brothers, Pete was her favorite. He was a year older than her, and her constant playmate when they were kids. Although Pete had his own place, he had two roommates and had taken to hanging out at her house on Friday nights when his roommates had company over. She had an extra bedroom but hadn’t furnished it yet, so he’d taken over her plush gray couch as his bed.
When Wren had sold her house in Sacramento, she’d also sold all the furnishings inside except for some of the more sentimental items because she didn’t want to pay the exorbitant fee to move her entire house. It was how she’d handled every move over the last nineteen years. Everything went except for what she could fit in a small U-Haul, which was usually just her mattress and bed frame. She always bought her furniture used from thrift stores or online marketplaces because she hadn’t planned on staying in any place too long.
Here, it was different. This was home, so she’d gone to Boise and splurged on a new living room set, but it was going to take her a while to refurnish her home if she bought all new furniture.
“Don’t get any of that red stuff on my new couch,” she called, heading to her room where she slipped her coat off a hanger in her closet. Combined with the knee-length simple black dress and waves in her hair, she turned in front of her closet mirror and smiled.
“Oh, I look good.”
While Wren wasn’t the same hard body she’d been before her injury, she didn’t hate the fuller, softer figure she presented in the mirror. If getting hurt had taught her anything, it was that being in shape didn’t stop a bullet.
Besides the humiliation, the events that led to her leaving Sacramento could have been worse. They’d saved the girl, caught the bad guy, and Wren had gotten a brand-new scar.
Her recovery had been longer than expected, and although they would have welcomed her back on the force with open arms, the time on the sidelines had given Wren a chance to think about what she wanted.
Turned out, being pushed into high-stress situations didn’t do it for her the way it had in her twenties.
The thought of elevated stress reminded her of the explosive results the changeup to her online profile had brought about. While there had been a few responses that seemed genuinely interested in meeting her and taking next steps, most of them had fallen into two categories: obnoxious jerks treating her desire to be a mom as a joke, or a slew of nasty messages she’d deleted after reading the first lines. Neither camp had left her feeling hopeful, and she had decided to give it until Monday, but if the pattern continued, she was going to delete the profile. While it would mean reconsidering online sperm donors, Wren was willing to take the chance of her kid dating their half-sib in the future if it meant getting this over with.
Instead of staying home and weeding out the weirdos, Wren was about to have dinner with her high school boyfriend after having a chill day shopping Black Friday sales online. Working in the city, she’d rarely had a Friday or Saturday off, let alone a holiday. And while she’d been looking forward to this dinner, a tiny voice in the back of her mind kept asking why she was bothering if she had no plans to date. Taking a trip down memory lane with her first love seemed like a fruitless venture.
It’s just dinner and an excuse to dress up, something you haven’t done in a long while. Don’t be so serious.
Wren walked out of the bedroom, her trench coat swinging around her legs. “What do you think of this?”
Pete lifted his head to give her a once-over and flopped back, eyes fixed on the TV. “You look like you’re ready to slay him.”
“Aw, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Pete snorted. “Don’t make it weird.”
Wren paused near the doorway, purse in hand, then suddenly sat on the coffee table next to Pete, panic gripping her chest. “Am I making a huge mistake?”
Pete stared at the TV as he said, “You mean having dinner with the guy that Dad hated and the rest of us wanted to pound in the tripe many years ago?”
“Yes, and just . . . moving back here.”
Pete paused the show and licked his fingertips as he wrestled his limbs out from under Duke, who didn’t budge or get down to check on his mistress. Once he was free of the dog’s weight, Pete swung his legs off the couch to sit up across from her. He reached for her hands, and she wrinkled her nose, holding them away from him. “You were just licking them like a toddler.”
“Fine, pretend I’m holding your hands when I tell you this.” Pete leaned in, looking into her eyes. “This is your home. No matter what. You belong here with us.”
“Tell that to Dad,” she mumbled.
“Dad’s a grumpy asshole. He just got mad because he couldn’t control any of us once we left home. When you took off, it was his last tie to Mom, and he was kind of twisting in the wind.” Pete grinned. “He just needs a hobby. Or a girlfriend.”
Wren laughed. “Oh yeah, I could just see dad signing up for online dating. Full background check and the third degree. They’d all take off running.”
“Maybe, but I think he’s lonely.” Pete’s serious expression made her stomach bottom out as he added, “I know the last few years with him were hard for you, especially before you graduated.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Wren scoffed.
“He was worried about you,” Pete said, ticking off her behaviors on his fingers. “Getting in trouble. Buying a motorcycle. Dating.”
“Dating Sam, you mean?”
Pete sighed. “Wren, it wouldn’t matter who you chose as your first, Dad would have flipped out regardless. You were the only girl, and when he couldn’t ignore it any longer, he tried to protect you.”
Wren wasn’t sure that was the right word, but she understood what Pete was saying. It was why she hadn’t held a grudge against her dad for threatening Sam. While he may have gone through with it and maybe never had forgiven her, Wren knew that he always acted the worst when he was scared. And finding that pregnancy test in the bathroom nineteen years ago must have rocked him to his core.
“I guess everything worked out the way it was supposed to.” Wren got up with her purse in hand. “Have a good night.”
“Have fun recycling your exes.”
Wren flipped him the bird before heading for the door.
“You’re kind of mean when you’ve got a date,” her brother called after her.
“No, I’m always mean to you.” Wren stopped with her hand on the doorknob, giving him a cheeky grin. “That’s what sisters are for.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “What time are you coming home?”
Wren opened the door, tossing him a dark scowl. “What, like I have a curfew?”
“Or an estimate so I don’t think you’ve been murdered and dumped somewhere,” Pete said.
“I guess it depends on how dinner goes.”
Pete twisted around on the couch and pointed at her. “If you don’t pull a walk of shame by eight tomorrow morning, I’m calling in reinforcements.”
“Don’t even think about it, Pete,” Wren said, hovering in the open door. “I am a grown woman, and I carry a weapon.”
“I’m not scared of you. Besides, you’d never risk the felony.”
“You never know what a woman is capable of until you put her in a position where her brothers or her father are being idiots.” Wren closed the door on his response and headed down the walkway to her Nissan Rogue, tugging her jacket closer as the cold found its way up her skirt. Gooseflesh popped up all over her legs, and she almost wished she’d worn a pair of leggings underneath, but it would have ruined the outfit.
Since when did she choose looks over comfort?
Probably about the same time Sam Griffin gave you a once-over that nearly incinerated your panties.
How long had it been since she’d hooked up with a man? Nine months? Time really flew when you weren’t getting any.
Wren set up the GPS to Sam’s home once she was inside and then turned up the heat, watching her windows defrost. Girls in high school used to tell her how lucky she was to have overprotective brothers, but those same girls were the ones who never spent a Friday or Saturday night at home the way she had her senior year.
Her father had barely looked at her after he found the test, even when she told him it was a false positive. She’d thought it was because he was ashamed of her, but she’d said a lot of harsh things to him when he’d delivered his ultimatum about Sam.
Either cut him off, or I’ll make a phone call, putting him in a cell for five to ten years. Which one will it be?
She followed the directions on the GPS, memories overwhelming her. Of course she’d told Sam to go, that they had no future together. She’d expected him to argue, to fight her resolve, but in the end, he’d walked away.
That had been her first lesson on the fact that love had limits. The stories of men slaying dragons, of sacrificing themselves so that their significant other could live, were just fantasies. Even her mother hadn’t loved her children enough to stay. She’d wanted a fresh break and her freedom more than she’d wanted to watch Wren and her brothers grow.
That betrayal was something Wren couldn’t forgive.
Wren had tracked down her mother a few years after leaving home; she was remarried and living in a big, beautiful house in Texas. Wren had sat across from her in that picture-perfect living room, searching for the right thing to say. After a few minutes of small talk and comparing the weather in Texas to Idaho, Wren had asked, I understand that you didn’t want to stay married to Dad, but why didn’t you want us?
Her mom’s brown eyes, the same shade as her own, dropped to her lap, and she answered softly, I just needed to find myself. Without the ties of my old life dragging me down. I found what was missing, and I was so happy, but I— I couldn’t find a way to make you kids fit in it. I’m sorry.
That was the last conversation she’d had with her mom. There was nothing more she could say after that anyway. Any apology would fall flat. Wren knew where her priorities were, and Wren told herself when she became a mom, her child would never feel less than total and complete love and security.
Only the mom part hadn’t happened yet.
Wren didn’t want a relationship, and it seemed like Sam didn’t want one either. Did he think tonight they might get some closure? Or was he hoping to rekindle things between them?
Sleeping with Sam would be a bad idea for several reasons, first and foremost being that letting anyone into her life, even as a friend, meant one more person she had to explain her choices to. How would Sam react if Wren told him she wanted a baby but not a man?
Wren shook her head, completely blown away that she was even thinking about this. It was bad enough reading the reactions from strangers, but people who knew her? Wren could just imagine how her dad would react if he knew, which was why she planned on being discreet until after she was pregnant. He didn’t have to know what she was planning.
Just like she’d never told Sam about the pregnancy scare, which ended up being for the best.
I need to stop obsessing about this. Tonight is about having dinner with an old friend.
She parked in front of a small house on the older side of town and spotted Sam when he stepped out onto the front porch, the light illuminating his tousled blond hair like a halo. Wren got out of the car and noted that he was wearing a black button-down and blue jeans, so she didn’t feel overdressed anymore.
“Am I late?” she asked, coming up the walkway to the front step.
“No, I was just going to watch for you. Make sure you found the place okay.”
“I recognized the address,” Wren said, nodding her head toward a blue house across the street. “They like to party.”
Sam chuckled. “Yes, they do. I’ve been invited but never joined in.”
“How long have you lived here?” she asked, stepping up onto the porch.
“About a year. I used to live in Merry Winters’ tiny house behind her parents’ place after she moved in with my brother,” he said, holding the door open for her so she could walk inside. Wren took in the clean, simple space with a small sectional, side table, and entertainment center on the wall with video game consoles and a large TV.
“Why did you move out?” she asked.
“It helped me save money, but it felt weird bringing women back to sleep in my sister-in-law’s former bed. Even though she didn’t say anything, I think she felt that way, too.”
Wren laughed. “Yeah, I probably would’ve been uncomfortable with that, too. Although, I’m surprised you didn’t pick a better neighborhood.”
“Eh, I like it here. Rent is still low enough for me to keep saving, and our neighbors look out for each other.”
Most of the crime that occurred in Mistletoe happened in this area and at the two bars, but Wren didn’t mention that. “What are you saving money for?”
“I want to buy my own tattoo place,” he said, shutting the door. He helped her off with her coat, and Wren warmed at the appreciation in his eyes. “Damn.”
“Well, thank you. This is my first dinner in a long time with someone other than my family, so I wanted to look my best.”
“Mission accomplished.”
Wren hung her purse up on the hook with her coat and cleared her throat. “So, what made you want to come back to Mistletoe and start your business here?”
“The fact that my life savings was stolen,” he said with a bitter laugh.
Anger rushed through her. “No. Seriously? Who?”
“When I lived in Oregon, my boss was planning to retire, and we set up an agreement where I paid him to carry the loan to buy his tattoo shop since I didn’t have the credit to get one through a bank. I gave him my savings and another year of payments before he took my money and ran.” Sam held out his hand and she took it. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour before dinner.”
Wren let him lead her into the small dining room and kitchen, but she needed to know the rest of the story. “Was he ever prosecuted?”
“Nope. As far as I know, he is living large somewhere sunny. Our agreement was a gentleman’s one, so I didn’t have anything in writing. I didn’t have a dime to my name when I showed up on my brother’s doorstep with my tail tucked between my legs, but he welcomed me without any recriminations.” Sam took her down the hallway and flipped on the light in the bathroom. It had a simple, silver-framed mirror and a gray and white checkered shower curtain with matching gray bathroom rugs on the floor in front of the tub and sink. “It sucks being such a sorry excuse for a big brother.”
Wren squeezed his hand. “I’m sure Clark doesn’t feel that way.”
“He’d never say so out loud, but I think it.”
“How close are you to being able to buy your own shop now?”
“Couple months maybe,” he said.
“Well, you always were artistic, so it makes sense you’d make a career out of it.”
He chuckled. “It was art or mechanics, and I don’t like to get my hands dirty unless it’s my own bike.”
“Oh boy,” Wren laughed, opening the door at the end of the hall. “I forgot what a prima donna you could be.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“I remember camping with a group of friends, and you and I had our own tent.” Wren released his hand as she stepped over the threshold into his bedroom, lost in the memory as she looked around. It was as neat as the rest of the house, the black and white plaid bedspread turned down, revealing shiny black sheets. Wren smirked, tempted to ask if they were satin.
“And what, I snored?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“You really don’t remember?” Sam shook his head, and she continued, “A spider climbed inside with us, and you made me kill it.”
Sam pushed off with a huff. “Not liking spiders doesn’t make me a prima donna. That makes me honest and complex, instead of conforming to toxic masculinity.”
“All I hear is that I’m”—she pointed to her chest—“the spider killer when we’re together.”
Sam reached out, running his fingertips along her cheek. “Thanks for keeping me safe.”
Wren’s stomach flipped at his soft tone. His touch continued down the side of her neck and down her arm, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake.
“I noticed you’re still not sporting any ink.” He grinned at her, taking her hand again and spinning her in a circle, as if searching for some hidden tattoo. “What happened to all that big bad talk about getting sleeves and maybe a neck tattoo?”
Wren smiled at his teasing. “I went with some friends in college, but I chickened out. There wasn’t anything I loved enough to permanently put on my body.”
“I understand what you mean. All of mine have special meaning to me.”
“Really?” she said, reaching for his right arm. “May I?”
Sam grinned devilishly. “You don’t ever have to ask permission to touch me, Birdy. In fact, I insist.”
“Stop,” Wren murmured, ducking her head so that he wouldn’t see her blushing as she studied the colorful designs on his arm. They connected naturally, like puzzle pieces placed perfectly.
She pointed at a storm cloud with dark and light outlines to the blended layers. “What’s the significance of this one?”
Sam turned his other arm, putting them next to each other so she could see the beautiful watercolor sun that seemed to line up like it was peeking out of the cloud. “It was a reminder that there is always sunshine after the rain.”
Wren’s brow furrowed as she traced the outline of the sun. “I feel like I’ve heard that before.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Sam said innocently, but when she glanced up at him suspiciously, he looked ready to burst out laughing.
Suddenly, it hit her, and she snapped her fingers. “It was a song from one of those cringey boy bands you secretly loved.”
Sam scoffed. “I didn’t like boy bands.”
“It may have been like a deep dark secret that you didn’t tell anyone, but I remember stumbling onto your playlist.” Her fingers traced the outline of the sun, smiling at his sheepish expression. “Who was it? Backstreet Boys?”
“Again, I wouldn’t know, because I listen to hard-core rock music,” Sam said, returning her smile before adding, “but if I was a boy band fan, I would correct you that the lyrics you are thinking of are from the 98 Degrees song Because of You .”
“Aha,” she said, poking him lightly in the chest. “I knew it!”
Sam took her hand and flattened it against his chest, electricity sizzling across the palm of her hand. She could feel the hard muscles of his pecks through his T-shirt and the racing of his heart, making her own kick up speed. She stared up into his twinkling eyes, admiring his full lips twisted in a rueful smile.
“You’ll keep my secret safe, right?” he asked softly, stroking her chin with his other hand. “After all, players like me can’t have a boy band playlist.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone, but only because you asked so sweetly.” Her fingers started to curl against his body, resisting the urge to pet him, and she dropped his hand, taking a step around him. “You have a nice place. Mine isn’t nearly this clean.”
She caught his shrug as he followed behind her. “It’s just me, so it’s easy to keep it up. Turn on a little music and go at it for a couple of hours a week. It decreases stress to come home to a clean house.”
“Hey, I think it’s cute that you have all these little quirks that make you more than Mistletoe’s favorite fuckboy.”
Suddenly, Wren found herself spun around with her back against the wall and Sam staring down at her with an intense frown. “I do not like being called a fuckboy.”
His hard tone took her by surprise, but it was the way he loomed over her, framing her with his forearms against the wall that brought back intense memories of being pressed against any surface they could find. Of Sam’s body plastered against hers and the thrill of arousal radiating from between her legs.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, aware of his warm, minty breath inches from her mouth. Even wearing that thunderous expression, Wren recognized the way his blue eyes darkened to the color of the sea during a storm, smoldering and raw, and holy hell, she wanted to reach up and drag his mouth down to hers.
That’s not what you’re here for! The tiny voice in her head continued to list all the reasons why she shouldn’t kiss Sam, why pressing her body into his and climbing him like a tree was a very bad idea, but it was hard to focus over the loud blood drumming in her ears.
Sam took a deep breath, pushing off the wall and leaving her bereft. “No, I should be the one apologizing. I guess everything that was said on Jilly G’s radio show really got to me.”
Without thinking, Wren took ahold of his waist, keeping him close, and when his gaze met hers, she said, “I only meant that it is nice to get a peek behind some of those walls you put up. I get the feeling you’ve used your reputation to keep people at a distance.”
Sam took a step into her body, and Wren sucked in a breath, the throbbing between her legs intensifying with him pressed against her.
“Maybe you’re right, but it beats getting close to someone and finding out it was never real for them.”
Wren stiffened, wondering if that was a dig at her or if he was making a general statement about relationships, but he backed away from her, dragging both hands through his hair.
“And this is why I don’t let anyone behind the walls,” he said with a dark laugh. “I let my emotions get the best of me.” Before Wren could respond, he waved a hand toward the dining area, adding, “Why don’t you come sit down, and we’ll eat? I promise to be the charming philanderer that the ladies of Mistletoe love to hate.”
Wren swallowed, acquiescing with a nod, but in her heart, she didn’t want the Sam everyone else got.
She wanted him to be real.