The Christmas Bliss Romance Collection

by Jennifer Youngblood

  “All right. I love you too. See you soon.”

  He released her hand and pushed the phone back into his pocket. “Aubrey and her family just arrived. Ellie will get there an hour before us. This is going to be the best Christmas ever,” he beamed.

  He reached for her hand and kissed it. Then he laughed as he let go of her hand and examined his own. “Sorry, I forgot to wash my hands.”

  She looked down. “Me too.” Mixed feelings warred inside her. She was looking forward to meeting Wyatt’s family. More than anything, she craved being a part of a family for Christmas. Yet, Haven wanted his family to know the real her—a no-frills, elementary school teacher, not the famous clothing designer. Interesting how she’d always wondered what it would be like to be Brynn. Now that she knew, she longed to be herself.

  Wyatt stood and looked out the window. “It looks like the posse has dispersed. After we run to the restroom and wash up, we need to get going.”

  “Sounds good.” Haven wondered what the next few days would bring—either her salvation or condemnation. At this point, it was hard to say which direction the pendulum would swing.

  * * *

  Haven looked, then looked again, her jaw dropping like a cement block. “That’s your house?”

  “My parents’ house,” Wyatt corrected with a tight smile.

  “That’s not a house, it’s a city. The crown jewel of Buckhead,” she added under her breath. The Georgian-style mansion was in a prominent, secluded area of Buckhead. Any area of Buckhead was ghastly expensive, but this … Haven swallowed … this was the pinnacle of Buckhead. The sprawling mansion curved gracefully towards the street in a slight “C” like it was embracing the sculpted landscape, which looked like a botanical garden. The grand, wide staircase in the front center flanged outward on both sides at the bottom, giving way to a spectacular fountain. With the layer of frost and snow, the mansion shimmered like a fairy tale castle. No wonder the reporters had been taken aback when they realized who Wyatt was. A cold sweat broke over Haven, her hands going clammy. This is not what she had in mind when she pictured Christmas with Wyatt’s family. She would stick out like a sore thumb amidst such grandeur. The Davenports were expecting an influential designer. They were expecting Brynn. She wanted to shrink to the size of a bug and skulk away, forget that she’d ever concocted such a harebrained scheme of pretending to be her sister.

  Wyatt gave her a concerned look. “You okay?”

  She forced a rubbery smile, willing herself to hold it together. Just breathe.

  He blew out a labored breath. “This is why I don’t like telling people who I really am,” he blustered. “It’s too much … even for you.”

  “I’ll be okay.” She clutched her throat, a hysterical giggle rising. She suppressed it.

  Wyatt turned down the long driveway, leading to the mansion. “I’m the same person you’ve been with. Nothing has changed. All right?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.” She laughed softly. “I knew something was up when the reporters reacted the way they did. I should’ve realized.” Her voice trailed off into silence. Never could she have imagined this. She thought of her own moderate, brick home in a middle-class neighborhood. Ten of her homes could fit inside this mansion … maybe more. They pulled around the back, to the monster-sized corral of connected garages off to the side.

  The back of the mansion was even more intimidating than the front. A terrace ran the width of the house, and two staircases led down to a circular pool. It had a winter covering over it, but Haven could imagine how spectacular it must be in the summer.

  Wyatt turned off the engine and looked at her. “Are you okay?”

  He gathered her hands in his. “Your hands are ice cold.” He searched her face. “Don’t let this get to you.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m overreacting. It’s just …” Her throat grew thick as she tried to collect her thoughts. “I don’t know how to act around your family.”

  He laughed. “Be yourself. They’re just people. You’ll see.”

  “I feel like we just stepped into the movie Crazy Rich Asians.” A wry grin tugged at her lips. “Only I’m not handling it as well as the heroine did in the movie.”

  “I haven’t seen the movie.”

  “You should. It’s very similar to our situation. A guy brings his Asian American girlfriend home to Singapore to meet his family. She discovers they’re mega-rich.”

  He quirked a grin. “What happens in the end?”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. “Huh?” Crap! She’d set herself up for this one.

  His eyes sparkled with amusement, turning them such a startling crystal blue that it nearly took her breath away.

  “The family views her as a threat.”

  A shadow crossed his features, his jaw tensing. “That’s not likely to happen here.”

  Not likely. A shiver ran down her spine. Wyatt couldn’t guarantee that, no matter how much he wanted to.

  “What else happened?” he prompted, his voice gentle.

  “The couple works through their differences.” She figured her face was blazing like a sunburn. “At the end, the guy goes after the girl and proposes.”

  A pleased smile came over Wyatt’s lips. “See,” he drawled, “a happy ending. There ya go.”

  She was relieved he didn’t think she was trying to get him to propose. Her heart fluttered with unbidden hope at the thought. Sheesh. She was losing it. She and Wyatt had a long, tough row to hoe before getting to that point. Heck, they weren’t likely to reach that point, ever. Once Wyatt discovered the truth, he’d probably drop her like a hot potato. Why, then, was she getting so worked up about meeting his family? Perhaps, she didn’t want to break the spell they’d been under.

  “No matter what. It’s me and you,” Wyatt said, a fierce look in his eyes. “You got that?”

  “Yes,” she uttered, hoping he’d still feel the same when the truth came out.

  11

  They entered the mansion and walked through the large coat room that was bigger than Haven’s living room and kitchen combined. “We can leave our luggage here. I’ll have Ralph take it up to our rooms.”

  Was Ralph a family member? Or servant? For a split second, she hesitated, wondering if their things would be safe, especially the box containing Lillian’s jewels. Then she laughed at herself. There were few places on earth as safe as this.

  As they stepped into the grand kitchen, Haven feared she might have an out-of-body experience. Her legs were wobbly, her heart sputtering like a faulty engine in her chest. She prayed silently for help. It took all the effort she could muster to appear composed. Her gaze swept over the white cabinets and matching quartz countertops. The appliances were streamlined and modern. The large, small-paned windows allowed for an abundance of natural light, making the space feel airy and cheerful. A dark-haired woman stood in front of a built-in cooktop. A white apron was tied around her ample waist, and she was wearing white sneakers. She turned, a large smile filling her face when she saw Wyatt.

  “Charlie, it’s so good to see you,” she exclaimed, holding out her arms and rushing to Wyatt’s side where she embraced him in a tight hug.

  “Hey, Marguerite. It’s good to see you.”

  Marguerite pulled back, holding him at arm’s length, her black eyes assessing him. “You’re looking a little thin. It’s a good thing you came home, so I can fatten you up.” She pinched his cheek, then gave it a couple hearty pats.

  Wyatt chuckled. “Yep, your amazing cooking is bound to do that.”

  He stepped back and moved next to Haven, draping an arm around her shoulders. “This is Brynn.” He gave her a sideways look, eyes caressing hers. “My girlfriend.”

  The warmth of his tone, combined with the significance of his statement acted as a calming tonic for Haven’s nerves. Was Marguerite Wyatt’s mom?

  She wasn’t anything like Haven had pictured. She seemed like a warm, salt-of-the-earth woman, the kind of person Haven would be friend
s with. Maybe all the worry had been for nothing. A relieved smile spread over her lips. “Hello,” she gushed. “It’s nice to meet you.” She felt a little foolish for getting so worked up. It made sense that Wyatt would have a nice family. He was so down-to-earth and unpretentious. Maybe his mom had taught him to be that way.

  “Nice to meet you too, honey,” Marguerite said warmly. “Welcome.”

  “Brynn, Marguerite is …” He pursed his lips, studying her. “You wear so many hats, I don’t even know what to call you. Marguerite cooks, takes care of the house, does the grocery shopping, and just about everything else that needs doing.”

  Marguerite gave him a tender look. “I took care of you and your naughty sisters. Changed more diapers than I want to count,” she laughed. “Charlie has always been my favorite,” she confided in a low tone. “Boys are so much easier than girls to deal with.”

  “Aw, shucks. Thank you,” Wyatt drawled, a look of appreciation coming over his features. “Marguerite’s like a second mother to me,” he explained.

  A second mother who was an employee, Haven added mentally, her hopes dashed. It would’ve been so nice if Marguerite had been Wyatt’s mother. At least there was someone Haven could relate to—the hired help. Haven should’ve remembered … Wyatt told her his mother’s name was Beverly. In all the excitement, she’d momentarily forgotten.

  Wyatt looked around. “Where is everybody?”

  “Aubrey and her crew have taken over the guesthouse.” Marguerite frowned, her hand going to her hip. “Her two boys have been running around here like bucking broncos. They’ve already broken a vase and picture frame.”

  Wyatt laughed. “I’m not surprised. It’s too bad it’s so cold. Otherwise, they could run around outside.”

  “They need to do something or else the place won’t be standing when they leave,” Marguerite grumbled. She shook her head, the loose skin around her mouth jiggling slightly as her lips pressed together in a taut line. “I wish I could get ahold of those boys. Teach them some manners.”

  “You certainly could do that,” Wyatt laughed.

  “Aubrey’s been a pill,” Marguerite said quietly. She shook her head, dismay filling her eyes. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s got such a high opinion of herself and is so hard-to-please. I don’t know how her poor husband puts up with her.”

  “Aubrey’s high strung,” Wyatt explained.

  “That’s one way of putting it,” Marguerite grunted.

  “Margie and Aubrey have never gotten along,” he added.

  Marguerite’s head shot up as she straightened to her full height, glaring at him. “That’s not true. We got along just fine until Aubrey cocked an attitude.” Her thick brows darted together in a sharp V. “If she were a kid again, I’d set her straight in two-seconds flat.”

  “I’m sure you would.” Wyatt laughed easily like Marguerite’s rants were a common occurrence.

  Haven felt a sense of foreboding. Was Aubrey hard to deal with or was Marguerite simply spouting off? She hoped it was the latter, but sensed it was the first. She made a note to lay low and stay out of Aubrey’s way.

  “Where’s everyone else?” Wyatt asked.

  “Your dad’s still at the office. Ellie’s in her room. I believe your mom’s in her office, taking care of the last-minute details for the Christmas Eve Party.” She paused like she’d just thought of something. “Where’s your luggage?”

  “In the coat room,” Wyatt answered.

  “I’ll call Ralph and get him to move it up to your rooms. You’ll be staying in your room and Brynn in the East Wing guest room.” She looked at Haven. “Ralph’s my husband.”

  Haven nodded, her mind going back to the sleeping arrangements. East Wing? It sounded so formal.

  “I was hoping Brynn could sleep in the guest room next to mine,” Wyatt countered, his tone sounding like a five-year-old pleading for a cookie.

  Marguerite wagged a finger, her head going back and forth as she spoke. “No, siree. There’ll be no hanky panky going on in this house.” She raised an eyebrow, giving them both a steely look. “Not on my watch.”

  Haven’s face went hot as Wyatt chuckled. It was on the tip of Haven’s tongue to defend herself, but Wyatt spoke first. “You don’t have to worry, Margie,” he said affectionately. “Everything’s on the up-and-up between me and Brynn. I’ve been a perfect gentleman.”

  Marguerite gave him a pleased look. “That’s my boy,” she drawled. “I’m glad a few of the things I taught you sank into your rock-hard noggin.” She pointed at his head.

  Wyatt winked. “Just a few.” He motioned at the cooktop. “What ya making?”

  “White bean chicken chili and cornbread.”

  Haven’s mouth watered.

  “Sounds delicious. Anything Margie makes is fantastic,” Wyatt added.

  Marguerite beamed. It was touching how close Wyatt and Marguerite were.

  “I’m making spiced pumpkin bread and oatmeal raisin cookies for dessert,” Marguerite said.

  Wyatt wrinkled his nose. “Aw, man. Don’t put raisins in the cookies. Put chocolate chips.”

  “Raisins are good for you,” Marguerite countered. “They’ll keep you regular.”

  Haven jerked in surprise, then sniggered. Wyatt also started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Marguerite’s hand went to her hip. A smile spread over her lips. “Kids get amused at the strangest things.” Her tone rang with reproof. “When you get to be my age, you’ll realize that bowel movements are no laughing matter.”

  The comment made Haven want to laugh even harder, but she suppressed the giggles.

  Wyatt winced. “All right. Enough.” He shook his head, chuckling. “On that note, I say we go find Mom.”

  “It’s nice meeting you, Brynn.” Marguerite’s eyes moved over her like she was memorizing every detail. During the inspection, Haven had to fight the urge to smooth down her hair. “Welcome to the family.”

  Haven’s eyes widened. “Oh, we’re not—” engaged, she almost blurted, but the word failed to come out of her mouth when Wyatt kissed her cheek.

  “She’s a keeper,” Wyatt said adamantly.

  Something indiscernible, but very real swept over Haven. She got the distinct feeling of belonging, maybe a little déjà vu. The feeling vanished as quickly as it had come. Still, she wondered what it meant. Was this a sign that she and Wyatt belonged together? A fierce and overwhelming longing rose in her chest. She wanted a life with him, to feel loved and valued. Also, to feel so alive and in the moment. Yes, she was intimidated by his wealth. She liked it better when she thought Wyatt was just a regular guy—a chiropractor. It was hard to wrap her mind around the staggering wealth. Despite it all, Haven was falling hard for him. It was happening crazy fast. Then again, matters of the heart had no timetable. She felt as though she’d been with Wyatt forever, like she couldn’t imagine her life without him. Marguerite’s comment brought Haven out of her thoughts.

  “She’s a beauty.” Marguerite’s dark eyes lit with appreciation.

  “Thank you,” Haven murmured in surprise.

  “You seem like you’re just as beautiful on the inside.” Marguerite held up a finger. “The inside’s even more important than the pretty package.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Wyatt laughed. “We get it. No need for a lecture.”

  Marguerite gave him a sharp look. “There’s always a need for sound advice.” She wagged a finger. “And don’t think you’re too old to hear it, Charlie.”

  Wyatt grinned. “No ma’am, I’m never too old.”

  Marguerite made a shooing motion. “Go on and say hello to your mama. She’s been waiting on pins and needles for you to get here.” She held Haven’s gaze. “There will be plenty of time for you and me to get more acquainted.”

  “I’d like that,” Haven said, realizing as she spoke how much she meant it. Marguerite made her feel welcome, like she belonged.

  “All right. Let’s go meet Mom,” Wyat
t said with a cheeky grin. He tugged on Haven’s hand and pulled her behind him. With every step, she couldn’t help but feel like a lamb going to the slaughter… or more appropriately, an accused criminal facing the jury.

  They went through the large living room. Wyatt hardly gave it a second look, but Haven went bug-eyed as she took in the scope of the expertly decorated room. The cream furniture was transitional, walking the line between modern and comfort. The walls were a soft vanilla with a hint of yellow. The accent pieces and pillows were done in bold reds, yellows, and blues. Haven looked past the tall wall of windows to the back terrace and pool. It was hard to believe there were people who lived like this. The dinging of a clock caught her attention. She looked around, spotting the grandfather clock on the far wall.

  When they reached the study, Wyatt paused. Haven gave him a questioning look. He grinned and put a finger to his lips, a wicked glint in his eyes. He stole around the open French door.

  Haven’s heart drummed in her chest as she peeked through a pane in the door. Wyatt’s mom was the epitome of style and grace. Her honey blonde hair was poker straight, rounding on her shoulders. She had on a red silk, dress shirt and sat behind a stately walnut desk, stylish, red glasses perched on her nose.

  “Hey, Mom,” Wyatt exclaimed as he jumped into the room.

  His mom nearly jumped out of her skin, her hand flew to her chest. “Charlie!” She shot him an exasperated look. “You nearly caused me to have a heart attack.”

  “Sorry, Mother,” he chimed in a cavalier manner as he strolled toward the desk.

  She stood, a smile curving her lips. “I’m glad you’re here.” They embraced in a tight hug. Haven hung back, feeling awkward.

  A second later, Wyatt glanced back over his shoulder and motioned.

  Haven stepped forward, fixing a rubbery smile on her face. “Hello.” She thrust out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Davenport.”