Page 17 of Falling for the Enemy

“With jute twine?”

“It’s a rustic vision board. Very Pinterest. I’m aiming for a coastal grandma-core aesthetic.”

Wren narrowed her eyes in that particular way that meant she’d file the information for future excavations rather than press the issue now. “It would have been more convincing if you said the rope was for some sort of BDSM kink. You’re up to something.”

How the hell had she spotted the rope?

“I’m always up to something. That’s what makes me interesting and you so beautifully paranoid.” Jocelyn lifted her slice and took a big bite, making it impossible to answer any more questions.

Thankfully, Wren did the same and moaned as they fell into a welcomed silence filled with orgasmic cheese and dough.

Afternoon light threw sunny squares across the checkered tablecloth as they ate like women who hadn’t been properly fed in months. Every time the kitchen door swung open, it released a gust of basil and roasted garlic.

There was barely a crumb left on the table when they finished. Wren’s appetite had grown from that of a small bird’s to that of a grown man’s.

“You’re definitely having a boy.”

“That’s what I think.”

“And Greyson?”

“He thinks it’s a girl.”

“He just wants a little you.”

“I am his favorite.” She laughed.

Jocelyn smiled because it was true. Wren really was Greyson’s absolute favorite person in the whole world. Eight billion people in the world, and he took one look at Wren and decided, “This is my person.” He loved her more than his career and maybe even his brothers, which was saying a lot, because the Hawthorne brothers were always a package deal.

“You two really are perfectly matched. It’s so pure and natural, even the envy doesn’t feel toxic. It’s just…there, basking in your disgustingly radiant rays of happiness.”

“Says the woman who sells happy endings for a living.”

“You make it sound like I run a shady massage parlor on the outskirts of town.”

“Don’t you?” They both laughed.

“Touché.”

Wren patted her belly and sighed in contentment. “Speaking of happy endings…have you had⁠—”

“No.” Jocelyn cut her off a little too quickly. “Nothing worth mentioning at least.”

Wren eyed her skeptically. “Maybe it’s the weather.”

Jocelyn frowned. “You and Greyson?” No way they were already in a dry spell.

Wren shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s still incredible, but it’s not as frequent.”

“Well, ergonomically speaking, you’re a little top-heavy at the moment. Are you even in the mood?”

She arched a brow. “You’d be surprised. It’s actually one of my cravings.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Well, tell Grey to handle his chores. What the hell’s he doing?”