Page 44 of Wild Then Wed
“Come on,” I say, keeping my voice easy. “Before they eat everything and leave us with the scraps.”
Wren falls into step beside me, still quiet but keeping pace like she’s preparing herself for whatever fresh hell the Hart house has to offer.
We round the corner into the kitchen, where Mom’s already in full command mode, sliding a casserole out of the oven and trying to toss salad in a huge wooden bowl at the same time. Her light brown hair is twisted up, neat and elegant even with flour dusting the front of her shirt. When she turns and spots us, her blue eyes crinkle into a smile so big it practically lights up the damn room.
“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” she says, beaming. “Would you look at that! A lunch guest!”
I hear Wren stifle a laugh beside me.
Mom wipes her hands on a dish towel and crosses the kitchen to hold one out to Wren. “Estelle Hart. So glad to have you, honey.”
Wren shifts her bag higher on her shoulder and takes her hand, giving one of those small, polite smiles that you’d miss if you blinked. “Wren Wilding.”
At that, Mom’s face lights up even more. “A Wilding!” she crows like Wren’s some celebrity who just wandered into our kitchen. “Well, shoot, we’re mighty honored.”
Behind us, the back door bangs open, and Mason comes barreling in, his hair messy, jacket half off, snow still clinging to his boots. The noise level picks up like someone turned up the volume on the whole damn house—Riley and Crew still arguing from the living room, someone pounding up the stairs.
Mom just waves a hand toward the chaos. “Don’t mind the zoo. We’re all used to this by now.”
Emily breezes past Mason, rolling her eyes hard. She flips her brown hair over her shoulder and leans in like she’s letting Wren in on some big secret. “It’salwayslike this.”
Wren laughs—a real, honest laugh—and damn if that sound doesn’t land somewhere low in my chest.
“I believe it,” she says.
Nathan elbows his twin, grinning. “Don’t act like you’re not the craziest one in this house, Em.”
Emily snorts, grabbing a handful of carrots from the counter and tossing one at his head. “Says the guy who tried to sled off the roof last winter.”
“It would’ve worked if you hadn’t snitched.”
“Be glad I did or you would’ve ended up in a ditch somewhere.”
Mom’s shaking her head as she turns toward Wren, smiling like she’s just been waiting for an excuse to mother her a little. “Can I get you something, sweetie? We’ve got water, sweet tea, hot chocolate, lemonade…probably a dozen other things I’m forgetting.”
Wren’s mouth tips up at the corners, polite but guarded. “Water would be great, thank you.”
Mom moves to fill a glass with some ice, her southern drawl thick as ever. “Vaughn was tellin’ me you’re working with one of the new horses. Said we’re lucky you agreed to come out here.”
She sets the glass of ice water down in front of Wren with a little clink. Wren nods, one hand curling loosely around it.
“That’s right,” she says. “He’s a bay. A little skittish. There’s a lot of work left to do, but he’s smart.”
I lean my elbows on the counter next to her without thinking, knocking my knuckles lightly against the wood. “It’s pretty damn impressive, watching her with him.”
Wren turns pink again. Not full-on red—just a soft flush that creeps up her neck and hits her cheeks.
And Jesus, I like that. Something about knowing I can get that reaction out of her, when she’s usually so buttoned-up and unreadable, scratches an itch I didn’t even know I had.
I shake the thought off, forcing myself to re-focus.
She shifts like she doesn’t know where to look, shoulders pulling tight for half a second before she says, careful and formal, “That’s very kind, thank you.”
It hits me again—the way she folds in on herself at the first hint of kindness. Like she’s not sure what the hell to do with it.
And I don’t know why.
People must tell her she’s good at what she does, right? She’s gotta hear it all the time.
