Page 26 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Fine, pretend I’m holding your hands when I tell you this.” Pete leaned in, looking into her eyes. “This is your home. No matter what. You belong here with us.”

“Tell that to Dad,” she mumbled.

“Dad’s a grumpy asshole. He just got mad because he couldn’t control any of us once we left home. When you took off, it was his last tie to Mom, and he was kind of twisting in the wind.” Pete grinned. “He just needs a hobby. Or a girlfriend.”

Wren laughed. “Oh yeah, I could just see dad signing up for online dating. Full background check and the third degree. They’d all take off running.”

“Maybe, but I think he’s lonely.” Pete’s serious expression made her stomach bottom out as he added, “I know the last few years with him were hard for you, especially before you graduated.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Wren scoffed.

“He was worried about you,” Pete said, ticking off her behaviors on his fingers. “Getting in trouble. Buying a motorcycle. Dating.”

“Dating Sam, you mean?”

Pete sighed. “Wren, it wouldn’t matter who you chose as your first, Dad would have flipped out regardless. You were the only girl, and when he couldn’t ignore it any longer, he tried to protect you.”

Wren wasn’t sure that was the right word, but she understood what Pete was saying. It was why she hadn’t held a grudge against her dad for threatening Sam. While he may have gone through with it and maybe never had forgiven her, Wren knew that he always acted the worst when he was scared. And finding that pregnancy test in the bathroom nineteen years ago must have rocked him to his core.

“I guess everything worked out the way it was supposed to.” Wren got up with her purse in hand. “Have a good night.”

“Have fun recycling your exes.”

Wren flipped him the bird before heading for the door.

“You’re kind of mean when you’ve got a date,” her brother called after her.

“No, I’m always mean to you.” Wren stopped with her hand on the doorknob, giving him a cheeky grin. “That’s what sisters are for.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “What time are you coming home?”

Wren opened the door, tossing him a dark scowl. “What, like I have a curfew?”

“Or an estimate so I don’t think you’ve been murdered and dumped somewhere,” Pete said.

“I guess it depends on how dinner goes.”

Pete twisted around on the couch and pointed at her. “If you don’t pull a walk of shame by eight tomorrow morning, I’m calling in reinforcements.”

“Don’t even think about it, Pete,” Wren said, hovering in the open door. “I am a grown woman, and I carry a weapon.”

“I’m not scared of you. Besides, you’d never risk the felony.”

“You never know what a woman is capable of until you put her in a position where her brothers or her father are being idiots.” Wren closed the door on his response and headed down the walkway to her Nissan Rogue, tugging her jacket closer as the cold found its way up her skirt. Gooseflesh popped up all over her legs, and she almost wished she’d worn a pair of leggings underneath, but it would have ruined the outfit.

Since when did she choose looks over comfort?

Probably about the same time Sam Griffin gave you a once-over that nearly incinerated your panties.

How long had it been since she’d hooked up with a man? Nine months? Time really flew when you weren’t getting any.

Wren set up the GPS to Sam’s home once she was inside and then turned up the heat, watching her windows defrost. Girls in high school used to tell her how lucky she was to have overprotective brothers, but those same girls were the ones who never spent a Friday or Saturday night at home the way she had her senior year.

Her father had barely looked at her after he found the test, even when she told him it was a false positive. She’d thought it was because he was ashamed of her, but she’d said a lot of harsh things to him when he’d delivered his ultimatum about Sam.

Either cut him off, or I’ll make a phone call, putting him in a cell for five to ten years. Which one will it be?

She followed the directions on the GPS, memories overwhelming her. Of course she’d told Sam to go, that they had no future together. She’d expected him to argue, to fight her resolve, but in the end, he’d walked away.