The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 82

"Take it. Brighton City is freezing in winter; your hands are red," Ezra insisted, shoving it directly into her hand. "Are you a local? If you're free one of these days, show me around? I haven't been back for years and barely recognize the roads."

Clara wasn't physically cold. Her heart was cold, so the wind outside meant nothing. But, almost instinctively, she gripped the hand warmer and looked up at Ezra with a smile. "Sure, as long as Rhys doesn't object."

"What objection could he have? Rhys is generous. Besides, he's a busy man; he doesn't have time to manage trifles like us. He's not that petty."

Thinking of the encounter with Daniel, Clara said, "That's not necessarily true. Sometimes he can be quite petty."

Ezra blinked mischievously. "Then we'll go secretly."

Just as the words fell, rapid footsteps approached from the distance. The sound of shoes crunching on snow carried an inexplicable aggression.

Ezra turned around to see Rhys striding over with long steps. Not far behind him, Margot stood holding a half-burnt sparkler, looking bewildered at being left behind.

Rhys moved quickly, taking the steps in a few bounds. He ignored Wendy completely and stepped right between the two, blocking Clara from Ezra's view.

He was taller than Ezra, and when he exerted the imposing aura he'd honed in the police force, Ezra's casual demeanor instantly dissipated.

"Why did you come out without a coat?" Rhys looked at Clara, his voice deep and heavy.

Clara glanced at him. "To watch the fireworks. Do I need to file a report for that too?"

Rhys frowned. His gaze landed on the pink hand warmer in her hand, and he reached out to take it. "Where did this come from?"

Clara pulled her hand back. "Ezra gave it to me." She stuffed the warmer into her pocket. "It's warm. Even if you like it, I'm not giving it to you."

Rhys turned to Ezra. "You gave her this?"

"Yeah. I saw Clara was cold, and I happened to have this warmer I won, so I gave it to her," Ezra said with a laugh. "Don't be so serious, Rhys. You're scary."

"She has a husband. Whether she's cold or not isn't your concern," Rhys said sharply.

Rhys sighed. "I know you're unhappy about Margot being here, but it's Christmas Eve. Don't give me attitude in front of the elders."

"Am I giving you attitude?" Clara retorted. "Didn't I make room for you two? I hid out here—what more do you want? Do you need me to wish you a happy ever after?"

"What nonsense are you talking about!" Rhys scolded in a low voice. "'Happy ever after'? Is that something you should be saying?"

"Then what should I say?"

"Clara."

"Stop it. If Grandfather hears, he'll say I lack decorum again." Clara cut him off and turned toward the house. "Let's go. Time for the midnight meal. Don't keep Margot waiting."

She didn't look at Rhys again as she pushed the door open and walked inside.