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Wren checks the window and growls, “It’s Caden, my ex-boyfriend. We broke up months ago, and this is the first time I’ve seen him since. I don’t want to answer the door. Who knows what he’ll say or do?” She paces, chewing her nails and flailing her arms with anger.
“Do you have a back door?” I ask, lifting my wrist to show her the time. “Do you want this prick to ruin your hotcakes?”
Wren growls again, gritting her teeth as she seethes. “No! My backdoor backs into the alley. I don’t want to go all the way around the block. We’ll be late.”
“Grab your sunglasses, sweetheart. We’re leaving through the front, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again.” I offer my hand and walk her to the door, swinging it open with so much force the idiot on the other side jumps back with fear.
“Who are you?” I growl like a bear, my eyes narrowed to slits. “And what the fuck do you want?”
Caden’s eyes widen as he backs up and almost slips off the top step. He tilts his head to a forty-five-degree angle to look me in the face. He’s only a few inches taller than Wren, but it looks like he’s trying to decide if he can take me. It only takes a second for him to understand I could kill him.
“I need to talk to Wren.” His voice shakes. I’m surprised he hasn’t pissed his pants.
I shake my head and snarl, “What business do you have with her?”
He doesn’t answer but tries to look past me into her house. I lean to one side to block his view. “Go away, kid. Wren is mine.”
His mouth drops, but he’s too afraid to challenge me.
I meet guys like this all the time. They have no problem confronting women but shrink in the face of men. He’s a bully, and bullies hate being challenged by someone who could pound them into the ground.
Wren, who has been using me as a shield and hiding her body behind me, finally angles her head to address him. “I don’t have time, Caden. We’re leaving for brunch.”
“Who is this guy?” he stutters, his sweaty, flushed face twisted with rage he can’t express.
Wren steps to one side but doesn’t respond right away. She takes her keys from her purse and turns to me, not Caden. “Let’s go. I want hotcakes.” She takes my hand, and we step out the front door, pushing a confused Caden to the side. Once the door is locked, she returns her attention to her ex. “This is my boyfriend. As you can see, I’ve upgraded to a man and have no need for narcissistic little boys who only want what they don’t have. Now, get off my stoop before I call the cops.”
“You heard her,” I grunt, then lead my strong, independent little bird down the concrete steps to the sidewalk. When we reach the car, I open her door and run around the front to the driver’s side.
Caden is still on her stoop, confused and maybe crying. Good for him.
“Thanks for that, Ford. You didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did.” Wren slides her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose and relaxes in her seat.
“Did you just make me your boyfriend?” I ask her as we drive away, half-expecting her to panic.
But she doesn’t.
Wren smiles and nods, “Yes, I did. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes, I am.”
EPILOGUE: FIVE MONTHS LATER
“My baby is having a baby!” Nana swings me in her arms and dips me, kissing me on my cheek before bringing me back to my feet. “You’ve only been married six weeks! My word, you have a virile man.” She mentally counts backward, then narrows her eyes with suspicion.
“Yes, he is,” I confess with a smile, my eyes focused on the big hunk of man helping my grandfather wrap presents. That’smyjob. It’s been an annual Christmas tradition in the York house to drink eggnog and wrap presents together. But ever since we learned the news, I’ve been behind schedule, with my head in the clouds.
We weren’t planning on telling anyone so soon. I’m only five weeks and still technically in the danger zone, but when Nana offered me spiked nog and I insisted on regular, her suspicious nature ran with the ball.
“Are you admitting that you had premarital relations, little girl?” she teases within earshot of my grandfather, and my cheeks heat.
“I’m five weeks. This is a honeymoon baby,” I announce, then pause and lean in so I can whisper into her ear. “But of course, I did. Look at my husband.”
She peers over her shoulder and nods. “Yes, of course, you did. You’re not made of stone.”
Our courtship was quick. As Ford says, when you know, you know. And I knew for sure he was the man for me. Three months in, Ford planned a trip to see the foliage in New England and reserved a cozy log cabin in the mountains of Vermont. On our first night there, he got on one knee in front of the fireplace and asked me to be his wife. Of course, I said yes.
Then he blew out my back, railing me like a beast for the rest of our stay. I didn’t see many trees, but we still had a hell of a time.
