Page 131 of The Holiday Clause
Greyson ran a hand over his jaw and met Wren’s gaze.
She appreciated his patience with her father. The look they shared crackled with unspoken heat despite the frigid air around them.
His eyes held hers just a moment too long, long enough for her to remember exactly how those hands felt on her skin, how his mouth could make her forget her own name. More secrets passed between them as they hid smiles. Maybe even a few promises for later. She had to look away before she did something stupid like kiss him in front of her father.
“Moving on,” Greyson said, clearing his throat and breaking their stare. “What about the guest cabins?”
“The ones in the west grove are vacant. I left handwoven scarves for the two occupants on the north side.”
“Scarves,” Greyson repeated slowly.
“Yes,” Bodhi said, as if this constituted a completely normal precaution. “Snow can be overwhelming to those born in the south. I infused the yarn with lavender essential oils to help ground the guests during the storm.”
Greyson pinched the bridge of his nose.
Wren bit her lip. “That’s very sweet of you, Dad.”
Greyson kept any comments about her father’s habits to himself. “The lot needs clearing, and the main trail to the yoga studio and lobby. We also have to keep access to the emergency vehicle route.”
“The snow blower scares the cats.”
“Dad, we can move the cats into the sunroom while Greyson plows.”
“They won’t like that if I’m out there helping.”
At this point, Wren wasn’t sure Greyson wanted his help.
“I’ll use the plow for the main routes,” Greyson said, already mentally mapping the turns. “You just need to mark the cat shelters so I don’t bury them. And keep the air vents and openings shoveled.”
“I’ve placed Tibetan prayer flags at each one.” Bodhi grinned proudly. “The cats love the flapping. It’s a soothing frequency.”
Greyson muttered something under his breath. “Paths to the main building, yoga studio, atrium, cabins—priority. Then the sauna trail if I have time.”
“Not the tea garden?” Bodhi asked, aghast. “What if someone wants to enjoy their oolong in nature’s silence?”
Greyson stared at him. “They can. From inside.”
“You know, Greyson, you’re very yang today. Maybe have a salad with some leafy greens.”
Wren hid a laugh as his notebook snapped shut. He carried Rat to the passenger seat of his truck where he had a makeshift kitty-cab buckled in place so the kitten could ride safely by hisside. “I’ll be back in a few hours to salt everything. Stay out of the east woods and don’t move the cones this time.”
“I only moved them because they looked decorative.”
“They’re not.”
“Dad, why don’t you take Figgy back to the sunroom with the others. They’re probably wondering where you are.”
Bodhi scooped the cat off the truck and carried him inside. Greyson exhaled.
Wren stepped closer, brushing a hand down the sleeve of his coat. “Sorry about that. He just thinks differently.”
“I know. I don’t mind.”
“I’ll make sure he’s not in your way.”
He cocked his head. “He’s never in my way, Wren. He’s your dad.”
She smiled, loving how tolerant he always was when it came to her father’s eccentric and sometimes draining tendencies. “Thank you.”
