Page 109 of The Holiday Clause
“Two-fifty?”
She gave up. Kicking off the covers, she flopped to her back and dramatically sighed like a heroine in a tragic opera.
“No, Wren. No. We are not doing this. We’re not that girl anymore. We don’t show up at people’s houses in the middle of the night like some needy doormat. No.”
She stared at the shadows, waiting for the urge to fade. She could make more chamomile tea, but she had already downed two cups.
Maybe just a little drive-by. Just to see if his lights were on. Not like a stalker. Like a curious citizen. Like Nancy Drew with slightly worse boundaries.
The fresh air and gentle purr of the car might tire her out like a baby in a car seat.
“You’re thinking crazy.” Saying the warning out loud didn’t deter her rebellious impulses.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she stuffed her pajama pants into her wool-lined boots. Completely judging herself and doing it anyway.
The frigid air slapped her face the moment she stepped outside, making her gasp. Each footstep crunched on the frozen ground, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness of the night.
The car started ten times louder than usual, and Wren ducked as if someone might be watching from behind the winter-bare trees.
“You’re pathetic,” she berated her reflection in the mirror, rolling her eyes and backing out of her parking spot.
Two minutes later, she pulled up to Greyson’s. The house was dark, but she smelled wood burning like incense in the frigid night air. Was he home?
She tiptoed over the frozen ground to his garage, wincing when the latch of the hanging barn door squeaked obnoxiously like a skyscraper imploding in the silence. A bright light flashed on, and she froze like a striped bandit caught in a mask and beret.
“Shit.”
“Wren?”
She winced, but didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”
“What are you doing?”
“Would you believe me if I said I was checking your coolant?”
“Only if you can tell me where coolant goes.”
“Damn it.” With a sigh, she turned. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“So you decided to break into my barn?”
“I wanted to check if you were home.”
“You could have called or knocked.”
“True.” But that would have been too normal for her current state of mind. She exhaled a cloud of vapor that dissipated like her common sense. “Well, now that I see you’re home, I guess I can go.”
“Wait.” He rushed off the porch, the beam of the flashlight jiggling. The approaching crunch of his booted steps hiked up her nerves as he closed the distance and she stepped back. “I’m glad you’re here.”
She held up a hand. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss through her gloved fingers. “You’re shivering. Come inside.”
She dug in her heels. “I can’t.”
“Why? You have somewhere else to be at three in the morning?”
She pulled her hand out of his grip. “I’m still mad at you.”
