The Christmas Bliss Romance Collection

by Jennifer Youngblood

  ??? I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.

  The caustic tone of the text was a slap in the face. This sounded like the old Brynn, the one Wyatt was leery of. He’d been enamored with Brynn, but he never felt like he could fully trust her. She came across as flighty, the type of person who’d hop to another opportunity if given the chance. Maybe that was why he wanted to call her Haven, so she’d seem more like his girl, rather than the glitzy clothing designer who craved the limelight. The woman Wyatt spent the day with yesterday didn’t seem flighty at all. She was one hundred percent in the moment, grateful to be on this trip with Wyatt.

  Wyatt’s jaw flexed as he opened the door to the bakery and stepped out into the cold. He should’ve known better than to let his guard down. Brynn and Haven were the same person. The question was—which one of them was the real Brynn? The down-to-earth, warm, funny person he was falling for? Or the diva?

  * * *

  “Hello,” Brynn said breezily as he stepped into the kitchen. She was sitting at the kitchen table, her long legs crossed, leafing through a home design magazine. She looked stunning in a long, red sweater, hound’s-tooth, black and white leggings and lace-up, black boots. Her lustrous hair flowed like a glossy curtain over her shoulders. She locked gazes with him, and he was confused by the adoration shining in her almond-colored eyes. “When I got up and you weren’t here, I was afraid you’d skipped town,” she teased.

  He placed the bag of pastries on the table, pulled out a chair, and slumped down. Does Brynn have multiple personalities/Dissociative Identity Disorder? Maybe she’s one of those women who thinks her beauty gives her a free pass to treat people like dirt. That doesn’t work for me. No matter how gorgeous Brynn is, I’m not putting up with her games. He looked her in the eye. “Didn’t you get my text?”

  She gave him a funny look. “Text?”

  His brows furrowed. “I sent it to you when I left, explaining where I’d gone.” He didn’t know what Brynn was playing at, but it wasn’t amusing.

  Slowly, she shook her head back and forth, her eyes growing larger than two full moons. “I didn’t get a text.”

  Seriously? She was denying it? He leaned forward, pinning her with a stormy look. “Sure you did. You responded.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to her.

  As she read it, her face turned cherry red. “That isn’t from me,” she finally said.

  He straightened in his seat. “What?”

  “I changed my number a couple of days ago. A reporter got ahold of it and wouldn’t stop bugging me.”

  He laughed, weak relief flooding him. “No wonder the person responded that way.” He thought of something else. “You and I texted the day before I picked you up at your apartment.” He tried to think. “It was in the morning, I believe.”

  “Yes, that’s right. I changed my number later that afternoon.” She searched his face. “I can only imagine how that text must’ve come across.” She twirled a hand. “I should’ve thought to give you my number earlier, but it slipped my mind.”

  The sincerity of her expression chased away his misgivings. He felt guilty for jumping to the wrong conclusion.

  She held up his phone. “Do you mind if I plug in my number?” An intimate smile crept over her lips, reminding him of the kisses they’d shared the night before. “That way, you won’t text someone else, thinking it’s me.”

  He winked. “It’s a good thing I didn’t mention anything about kissing you … Haven,” he added softly.

  “You’re terrible,” she countered with a nervous laugh.

  This time, it pleased him to see her cheeks go rosy. The connection between them was alive and well, as strong as it had been the night before. Maybe he needed to have more faith in Brynn, stop second guessing everything.

  His stomach growled as he reached for the bag. “I hope you’re hungry because I got enough pastries to feed an army.”

  She laughed. “Yes, I’m hungry.”

  “Good. Eat up and we’ll get on the road. We have a long day of driving ahead of us, but I hope we can make it to North Carolina by nightfall. We’ll get a hotel and spend the night. Tomorrow, we’ll be on the home stretch with only four hours of driving before we get into Atlanta. That’s the tentative plan, if the weather cooperates.”

  She tilted her head. “What? We’re staying in a lowly hotel?” She tsked her tongue, mock disappointment coming over her features. “You mean, your dad doesn’t have a friend in North Carolina with another house we can stay in?” she jested.

  It was his turn to go red. The jig was up. Brynn knew this cottage belonged to his family. “I’m afraid not,” he chuckled.

  She shrugged, amusement dancing in her dark eyes. “Oh, well. I guess we’ll just have to make do with a regular hotel.”

  “Yeah, it’s a tough life, but somebody’s gotta live it.”

  She laughed. “That’s right.”

  As Wyatt held her gaze from across the table, all he could think about was how he wanted to kiss her succulent lips again, run his fingers through her thick tresses of glorious hair, and lose himself in the warmth of her radiant smile. He almost didn’t want to take Brynn to his parents’ house. When they got to Atlanta, he’d be forced to share her with other people rather than having her all to himself.

  This holiday season was turning out so much better than Wyatt had hoped.

  * * *

  A giggle bubbled in Haven’s throat. They’d been on the road for a good seven hours, but with the easy flow of conversation and Wyatt’s antics it felt much shorter. She gave Wyatt an incredulous look. “You look like a chipmunk.” She chuckled. “Make that a puffed-up chipmunk who’s about to explode.” A couple hours ago, they stopped to pick up a few snacks, including red grapes. Wyatt was determined to fill his mouth with as many grapes as it would hold … or as many as Haven kept stuffing into his mouth.

  “Keep counting,” he urged, his speech garbled.

  She shook her head, grinning as she placed more in his mouth. “Twenty-two … twenty-three …” She stopped. “How many more are you gonna eat? I don’t want you to choke and have a wreck. You’re seriously gonna pop.”

  He gave her a determined look, mumbling something unintelligible, which she interpreted as, Give me more.

  “This is not gonna end well,” she laughed. “Twenty-four.” She popped another in his mouth. “Twenty-five.” She was about to put in another, when he held up a finger. His face jerked like he was trying to reshuffle the grapes. “Is that it?” His skin was stretched to the point where she could see the outlines of the grapes.

  He waved for her to feed him another.

  She did as he instructed. “Twenty-six.” No way could he hold anymore. Wyatt looked so ridiculous and so appealing. She appreciated how he supped the life out of every single minute, even when they were doing something mundane like driving.

  He grunted and began furiously chewing, leaning forward. A few seconds later, he swallowed and hooted. “Twenty-six.” He pumped a fist in the air, holding onto the steering wheel with the other hand. “Yeah!”

  She shook her head, laughing. “That was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  He gave her a sideways look, his eyes dancing like scattered sunlight. “Your turn.”

  “Oh, no. Not on your life.”

  “Come on,” he urged.

  “Nope,” she quipped. “Not gonna happen.”

  “You know,” he drawled, pumping his eyebrows, “I kind of like the idea of you feeding me grapes.”

  She sniggered. “Just not twenty-six.”

  He held up a finger. “That was definitely a record.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You’ve done this before?”

  A pleased smile spread over his lips. “Shoot, yeah. My old record’s twenty-four. You inspired me.”

  One thing she was learning about Wyatt, there was never a dull moment with him.

  Wyatt leaned forward, gripping the steering wheel with both hands as he looked throu
gh the windshield, up at the sky. He let out a low whistle. “Would ya look at that?”

  Haven did as he instructed. A sense of awe came over her when she saw the vivid orange, blue and pink ribbons swirling in the wintery sky. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

  “Yes, you are,” he said, giving her a meaningful look.

  A scene from the night before flashed before Haven’s eyes, the two of them lip-locked, Wyatt’s strong arms encircling her. She had to squelch the urge to touch her mouth as her mind replayed the feel of his lips on hers. She wanted to kiss him again … and again. A slow-burning heat sizzled through Haven, and she knew her cheeks were flushed. “Thanks,” she said demurely, lowering her lashes against her cheekbones. She’d been so fixated on Wyatt that she’d failed to notice the brilliant sunset until Wyatt pointed it out. Amazing. He was so larger-than-life, she couldn’t see anything else.

  Haven was surprised when he exited off the Interstate. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see,” he replied evasively.

  She laughed, feeling like she was ten again on a big adventure. “I’m learning something about you.”

  He cocked his head. “What?”

  “You like keeping me in the dark.”

  A crooked grin appeared on his face. “No, I just like making things interesting.”

  Yes, he certainly knew how to do that.

  “If you must know, there’s a little town about fifteen minutes away. It has a neat downtown area and a cool, old-timey pizza parlor. I thought we might grab dinner … get you a thick-crust, supreme pizza.”

  Haven’s stomach rumbled in response. She looked at him appreciatively, impressed that he’d remembered her favorite food. “You’ve been paying attention.”

  “To everything.” His eyes caressed hers. “So, Haven …”

  “Yes?” She smiled at his use of her “nickname.” He had no idea how wonderful it was to hear her real name spoken on his tongue.

  “How’s your work going? You’ve hardly said two words about it since we’ve left, which isn’t like you at all.”

  Crap! She went hot and cold at the same time. This morning, they had a close call with the phone. It hadn’t occurred to Haven that Wyatt would text Brynn. When she looked at Wyatt’s phone and saw that Brynn had replied, she about had an out-of-body experience. It was all she could do to mask her horror as she hedged until she could replace Brynn’s number with her own. She’d made sure to delete Brynn’s number in case she sent another text. If, for some reason, Brynn called Wyatt, she’d be sunk. But she was supposedly “off the grid.” Haven couldn’t think about that right now. She had to say something sensible about Brynn’s work. “The new collection’s going well. It should be in stores by the spring.” She held her breath, hoping that would suffice. Wyatt’s expression never changed. She relaxed slightly. “How’s your work going?”

  He reached over and took her hand, sending a burst of energy through her. Absently, he rubbed his thumb over her skin. The air between them shimmered with attraction. She wondered if Wyatt noticed.

  “Really well,” he answered. “My office in Greenwich Village is so busy that I’m thinking about setting up a satellite office in NoHo.”

  She had no idea where NoHo was in relation to Greenwich Village, but wasn’t about to let her expression show it. “That would be a good move for you,” she said matter-of-factly, like she knew what she was talking about.

  “Yes. I’m thinking about bringing in another chiropractor and maybe a physical therapist to help with the workload.”

  “You’re a chiropractor,” she said, mostly to herself.

  He cast her a puzzled look. “Yeah.”

  She jerked slightly, eyes widening as she breathed out a light laugh. “I mean, I know what you do. I just didn’t realize that was your official title. I guess I’ve just thought of you as a Sports Medicine Doctor.”

  “Chiropractors are doctors,” he countered, his voice taking on a defensive edge.

  “That’s the source of contention with your dad,” she said aloud, feeling as though she’d uncovered a hidden truth. “He doesn’t think a chiropractor is a real doctor.”

  The scowl on Wyatt’s face let her know she’d hit the nail on the head. “My dad’s old-school, of the mindset that if the treatment doesn’t involve medicine or invasive procedures then it’s less effective.” He grunted in disgust. “Anytime you can promote healing through natural processes it’s a better option.” He shook his head futilely. “I don’t get it.”

  She frowned. “You said your dad’s an entrepreneur, involved with medical sales and equipment. He must be heavily involved in the medical community to have such a strong opinion on the subject.”

  He grunted out a humorless laugh. “My dad has strong opinions about everything.”

  Haven had unwittingly opened an old wound. She sought for a way to repair the damage and relieve the funky tension that had gathered over them like a sooty raincloud, waiting to spill. “Well, you certainly helped me when I came to see you for my back.” She winced inwardly, hating the lie. She should’ve thought this whole thing through, realized that it never stopped with one tiny lie. She kept weaving those threads, binding herself tighter with every treacherous word out of her mouth.

  He gave her an appreciative smile, dispelling the gloom. “Yes, and look where it got us.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the top of it.

  Her breath hesitated as she returned his smile.

  “Here we are,” Wyatt announced as they drove into the town limits of Remember.

  “Remember.” Haven ran the name through her head a couple times. “An unusual name for a town. I like it.” It was fitting for this trip, which she’d always remember.

  “It is unique,” Wyatt agreed.

  A couple of minutes later, they entered a tree-lined, historic district. A sense of calm grandeur overtook Haven as she drank in the intricate details of Victorian style homes. She felt dreamy and fanciful, like they’d stepped into the pages of a storybook. “I love Queen Anne style homes with a touch of Victorian influence. Of course, when you add the Southern flair, it completes the picture.”

  He looked sideways at her. “I’m impressed. I didn’t realize you knew so much about architecture.”

  “Yeah, if I hadn’t been a tea—a clothing designer,” she corrected, heat crawling up her neck, “I would’ve gone into the home design field.” She couldn’t believe she’d almost said teacher. Her big mouth was going to be her undoing. She had to remain constantly on guard. Then again, she eventually wanted Wyatt to know her real identity. Maybe after Christmas she’d tell him. Yes, she’d put it off until then. It was amazing how setting a tentative date to tell the truth helped ease some of the guilt. It wouldn’t be right to ruin Wyatt’s Christmas. Afterwards, they’d have the hard discussion.

  “It makes sense. Creatives love to create in many different platforms.”

  Haven was creative, but not in clothing design. She loved to draw and paint. She grinned. “Of course, it helps that I have a fetish for HGTV.”

  “Ah, a closet HGTV fan. Another thing we have in common.” He pointed to a sprawling, white mansion that had large wreaths hanging on every window. “The Magnolia Blossom Inn,” he said reading the stately sign, decorated with greenery and a red velvet ribbon. “After we eat, we should stop in and see if there are any rooms available.” His blue eyes twinkled. “How would you like to stay there instead of a hotel?”

  “I would love it,” she replied quickly, excitement building in her chest. This whole trip was a wonderful dream. Staying the night in a place like this would be icing on the cake. She kept half expecting to wake up only to discover that she was still in Red Rose, spending the holidays alone. She sat up in her seat. “Should we stop now and check, before we eat? We might have a better chance of there being something available now than in a couple of hours.”

  He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Nah. Let’s get something to eat first. There will
be rooms available, I can feel it in my bones. Lady luck is on our side.”

  “All right,” she laughed. “We’ll take a chance and see if they happen to have some extra rooms.” She made air quotes, figuring Wyatt’s family owned the inn too.

  Wyatt gave her a puzzled look. “What?”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “Nothing.” She wouldn’t put it past him to play this thing off as a coincidence, that they happened to see a quaint inn on their way into town. Either way, it would be fun to stay there. Heck, staying anywhere with Wyatt would be thrilling.

  7

  “I’m sorry,” the sharp-featured, thin-faced man behind the counter said, his lips pulling down in a deep frown. “We only have one room left—the honeymoon suite.”

  Wyatt chuckled when he saw Brynn’s distraught expression. She looked like a kid who’d just learned that reindeer couldn’t fly. “We’ll take it,” he asserted.

  The man brightened, punching keys on his computer. “Very good.”

  “We will?” Brynn mouthed, her eyes rounding.

  Wyatt slid an arm around Brynn’s waist, pulling her closer. “Don’t worry,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll give you the bed and sleep on the couch. No funny business, I promise.”

  She shook her head, smiling. “You’re funny,” she said, but he could tell she was relieved. There was a goodness and purity to Brynn that Wyatt didn’t know existed until this trip. It made her even more attractive. Wyatt was an old-fashioned guy who believed in saving sexual intimacy until marriage. Even though he and Brynn had never discussed it, he got the feeling she felt the same way. It was refreshing, especially in NYC where the idea of postponing intimacy was as foreign to people as the bygone era of horses and buggies. Wyatt still couldn’t get over how different Brynn was from what he’d thought. The more time he spent around her, the more he learned that the socialite, party persona was a façade. He liked the real, approachable Brynn so much more.