Page 154 of Wild Then Wed
Wren scratches lazily behind his ears and says, without glancing up, “Tell your dad it’s not weird to share deodorant with a girl, Hank.”
I snort. “It’s kind of weird.”
“It’s not. I used to steal Boone and Ridge’s all the time growing up. They never even noticed.”
“My sister never took mine.”
She finally looks at me then, one brow cocked. “That’s probably because you’re fifty years older than her.”
I laugh, loud and immediate. “Jesus.”
“What? I’m just saying. You were probably paying taxes and watching Dateline while she was still playing with Polly Pockets or whatever girls played with.”
“First of all,” I say, still grinning, “Dateline’s a classic.”
“Exactly,” she says, snapping her fingers like that proves her point. “You’re ancient.”
The road stretches ahead of us in a long line of gray slush and patchy snow. The sky’s still a dull, snow-heavy gray, and flakes drift down in slow spirals. The heat is turned up just high enough to keep the windows from fogging, and Hank’s snoring quietly, his head still squished between Wren’s elbow and arm. She flips open the book in her lap, and smooths down a dog-eared page.
I glance over. “Pride and Prejudice?”
She hums without looking up.
“I love that movie.”
Her head snaps toward me, one brow lifted. “No, you don’t.”
I grin. She’s not wrong.Lovemight be generous. “Okay, maybe not love,” I admit. “But I liked it.”
She still looks skeptical, so I add, “You’ve bewitched me, body and soul, and I love—”
She jumps in on cue: “—I love, I love you.”
We say it at the same time and then she laughs, the kind of laugh that hits the air like a spark—bright and surprised. Her blue eyes catch the light as she turns toward me. “No way.”
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Saw it in high school.”
“For a class?”
“For a girl,” I admit. “Heard her talking about it in the hall and figured I’d get ahead of the curve.”
She laughs again, head thrown back slightly. “You watchedPride and Prejudiceso you could get laid.”
“Don’t say it like that,” I protest, hand to my chest. “I was eighteen. My brain was still under construction.”
She snorts. “That’s your excuse?”
“That’sscience, Wren.”
She shakes her head, still smiling. “I’m not surprised. My brothers would’ve done something stupid like that for girls, too.”
I glance over at her. “Joke’s on her, though. I actually liked it.”
“Of course you did,” she says, flipping a page. “Because it’s cinematic perfection.”
I glance over at her again, the corner of my mouth tugging up. “I’ve never read the book, though.”
She hums, thumbing the edge of her page. “Most people haven’t.”
