Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
“Thanks. What do I owe you?”
“It’s on the house.” She jotted down a note to make more. “Come by in a week and I’ll have a bigger order ready—one that isn’t rancid.”
“Okay.” Wren dropped the oil into a paper bag and stuffed it into her tote. “I also need more valerian root for Bodhi.”
Her aunt filled a bag and handed it to her. “Anything else?”
“That’s it.” Except it wasn’t. Curiosity ate at her like acid. “What are they really saying about me?”
Her aunt brushed a few crushed herbs onto the floor, which looked like it hadn’t been swept in a year. “Just that Magnus’s middle son kissed you hard enough to knock you up.”
Wren winced.
“But the big gossip’s about how much you paid to let him stick his tongue down your throat. Why would you pay him?”
“I didn’t.”
“That’s not what I heard. People are whispering something to the tune of five thousand dollars.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, right. More like two.”
Astrid raised a brow like a disapproving teacher. “Not something to brag about, dear.”
“You’re right. But I didn’t pay it. I mean, I paid, but it wasn’t my money. It came from Greyson’s account. It’s a long story.”
“Tell me you’re not involved with both of them like some 1970s key party.”
If only it seemed that simple. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” She clenched the paper bag in her fist. “I gotta go. Thanks for the oil.”
Stepping back onto the cold sidewalk was like coming up for air. Wren drew in a deep breath. It was getting late and she needed to hustle.
On her walk to Paper Moon, the town stationary store, Wren passed several townspeople who stared at her as they whispered behind their hands like conspirators. The more looks she got, the more self-conscious she grew, her skin crawling with unwanted attention until she regretted ever going to that damn auction in the first place.
Next time Logan played a prank on Soren, they could figure it out themselves.
By the time Wren made it back to The Haven, Bodhi seemed a mess, his energy scattered like leaves in a windstorm. He didn’t like his routine disrupted, and without his morning tea to level him out, he’d entered a manic mood and completely fell out of alignment with his usual chill frequency.
“Freya, can you…?”
“On it,” the chef said, taking the bag of herbs from Wren. “The kettle should still be warm.”
Wren only had a few minutes before her yoga students arrived. And she needed to check on her dad. “Where’s River?”
“He’s with a client,” Lilly said, a smitten smile spreading across her face. “Heard you had quite the night last night.”
Despite Lilly’s innocent big eyes and pixie-like haircut, she had a wickedness about her that sparkled like mischief. Most of the time, she acted so laid back people assumed she used drugs, but when good gossip came around, she perked up like a flower in sunlight.
“My night was boring.”
Lilly snorted. “Please. I can tell when you’re lying. Besides, everyone’s talking about it.”
Wren massaged the back of her neck where a kink had formed, tension coiling around her like a snake. Not giving the comment any oxygen, she set the toner on the front desk. “Have you seen Bodhi?”
“Check outside.”
Wren turned and spotted two locals walking from the parking lot with yoga mats under their arms. Her phone buzzed and she distractedly glanced at the screen.
Soren again.
He sure was persistent.
Especially compared to Greyson, who only called once. She sent the call to voicemail.
“Tell the students to start with a meditation. I’ll meet them in the studio in ten minutes.” Wren rushed out the side door to find her dad. As expected, Bodhi wandered the Zen garden.
“Dad?”
He paced in circles around the gravel paths with his coat half-buttoned, a single glove dangling from one hand like a forgotten memory. He didn’t seem to notice the chill in the air.
“Dad?” Wren approached slowly.
He mumbled something about the cats’ shelters. “The eastern winds knocked more cedar shingles loose.” He paused to adjust a small, empty bird feeder like it operated a pressure valve on a steam engine. “I told myself last spring, didn’t I? Told myself we’d replace the shingles. But look at that. Look at that one, Wrennie. It’s leaning like an old man in a storm.”
Wren stepped onto the path with slow, careful steps, knowing Bodhi didn’t like to feel rushed when he got like this. Her heart ached for him.
“We can fix the roofs, Dad.”
“We’ll have to. More snow’s coming. The elders must be protected.”
“I know. We’ll make sure all the cats are fine.” She dusted a few pine needles off the stone bench, shivering as she wrapped her arms around herself. “You’re not wearing your hat.”
He didn’t answer, but felt his head. “Missing my own shingles,” he joked, and Wren smiled.
“What do you say we go back inside before you catch a chill?”