Page 62 of Falling for the Enemy

But Greyson the Great was far from shaken by his wife’s crabby mood. “How about some ice cream, Wren?”

Wren’s brows pinched tight as she looked about to cry. “Oh, that sounds perfect. Vanilla?”

“Whatever you want.”

Jocelyn rolled her eyes, the sweetness choking her. She’d planned on giving Wren shit for inserting herself in the Soren debacle, but she wasn’t going to say anything with Greyson the Overprotective around. “Take your time getting it, too, Grey.”

He frowned at her then turned back to his wife. “Any toppings?”

“Cookie crumble?”

“On it.”

When Greyson left, Wren stretched out her short legs and rubbed her belly, happily waiting for her sweet treat to arrive.

“I guess the age of the prenatal juice fast is over.”

“Ugh! I told Grey if he made me drink one more green smoothie, I was moving back to The Haven. He hasn’t brought it up since.” She continued to rub her belly, which Cordelia took as an invitation to jump on her lap. “How’s your ankle?”

“Better. Astrid gave me some sort of tea drug.” Then she shifted topics. “Thanks, by the way, for sending Soren to my house this morning. That really was exactly what I meant when I told you an hour prior that I was over him and done.”

“He went to your house?” She sat up, not even trying to mask her excitement.

“Wren, I told you I was done. Why did you meddle?”

“Because you can’t just give up. You two care about each other.”

“It’s not that simple. Now, he thinks we have to talk about our feelings. Talking never solves anything.”

“Uh, talking solves everything, Joce.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Wren sighed as Cordelia nudged her hand, forcing her to keep petting her head. “You two are stubborn idiots.”

“We like it that way. Can’t you go back to pretending you don’t know?”

“No. What happened when he came over? Did you guys talk?”

“No. We argued and…” Why was she telling her this?

“Oh, my God. You had sex!”

“Lower your voice,” she hissed. “And that’s not the point.”

“Holy crap! You two can’t keep your hands off each other.”

“Yes, we can. I’m having my locks changed. Now, shut up. Here comes Greyson.”

Greyson presented Wren’s sundae with flourish and a napkin. “Two scoops of vanilla bean with cookie crumble.”

“Thanks, babe.” She took a bite, and it seemed to have the soothing effect a cigarette had on a chain smoker.

“So, how’s it going?” Grey asked, turning his attention to the ballot boxes which were still mostly empty. “Any insights on who might win today? We have a pool going at the Chowder House. My odds are on Birdie’s Chili and Astrid’s scarecrow.”

“You’re gambling on the winners? Why not just vote?”

“Meh.” He waved away her suggestion. “This keeps things a little more interesting. Besides, I have it on good authority, Birdie cheats.”