The Christmas Bliss Romance Collection

by Jennifer Youngblood

  “Riley! Come back!” she yelled in exasperation, ready to take off after him.

  “I’ll get him,” Beckett said, jogging across the parking lot after the toddler. The kid was fast widening the distance between them. Beckett sprinted, catching up to him about fifty yards from the main road.

  “Woah, tiger,” he said, grabbing the boy’s hand and taking him back to his mother.

  “Thank you,” she breathed before giving the boy a reproving look. “Riley, you can’t just run off like that.” She took a firm hold on his hand, turning her attention to Beckett. “I got a new stroller and was trying to figure out how to open it,” she explained. “Then Riley took off. I need more than two hands,” she lamented.

  Beckett looked at the round-faced baby in the car seat—another boy. “You’ve got your hands full.”

  She made a face. “Yeah, tell me about it. I’m meeting my husband here.” She shook her head, letting out a heavy sigh. “Somehow, he thinks we’re going to be able to bowl with these two.”

  “Here, let me see if I can help get that open for you.” He placed his bag on the ground and reached for the stroller. After fiddling with it for a couple minutes, he figured out how to open it. He pointed to the red button on the side. “You have to press it hard to get it to open. If it continues to stick like that, you might want to take it back.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him an appreciative smile. “Riley, hold onto the stroller,” she instructed. Riley grabbed hold of the handle, swinging on it. The stroller tipped backwards. “Watch out.” She righted the stroller, placing the car seat in it. Beckett feared he might have to run after Riley again, but luckily, he stayed put this time. Once the car seat was fastened in place, she caught hold of Riley’s hand. “I really appreciate your help.”

  “Sure, I was glad to do it.” They made small talk as they walked to the entrance of the bowling alley. When they passed through the double doors, the woman smiled. “Thanks again.”

  Beckett nodded. “You’re welcome.” It was such a little thing—taking the time to stop and lend a helping hand. Before his breakdown, he went full speed 24/7, never having the time or mindset to pay attention to others around him. Now, he made a point of not overloading himself with the superficial aspects of life, so he could be available to help when needed. Not that he was perfect at it, but he figured if he kept trying he’d keep walking in the right direction.

  “Heya, Beckett,” a peppy brunette with frizzy, gray-streaked hair chirped as she gave him a hearty wave.

  “Hi, Annette. How’s it going?”

  “Oh, you know. Never a dull moment. I forgot to ask the last couple of times you’ve come in, but how was your Thanksgiving?”

  “Good. Jazzie and I went to my parents’ house. My brother and his family drove in from Colorado. It was good to see them. How about yours?”

  “Fine. Can you believe it? Three weeks later, and we’re still eating turkey. Charlie bought one of those fryers.” She chuckled dryly. “He’s been trying to fry everything that moves. I swear he even went after the cat the other day.” She laughed at her own joke.

  A grin tugged at Beckett’s lips. Annette was a hoot. She and her husband Charlie a retired airplane mechanic ran the bowling alley. Just under five foot five inches tall, Annette was thin and wiry, but a pistol from the word go. Charlie was easy going, whereas Annette ran the bowling alley tight like a ship.

  She gave the wad of gum in her mouth a good go-around as she flashed a wicked grin. “I hear Jazzie’s gonna whoop you tonight, big guy.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, amused that Jazzie had been talking smack about him. “Is that so?”

  “According to her. I told her I had to see that,” she winked, patting his arm. Her face fell as she looked past him. “Hey,” she yelled. “Stop throwing popcorn!” She pointed. “Yes, I’m talking to you clowns.”

  Beckett turned to see what all the fuss was about. Several teenage boys were in the chairs at the head of one of the lanes. Having been called on the carpet, they were frozen in mid-motion, sporting sheepish expressions.

  “No more of those shenanigans or you’re out of here!” Annette jerked her thumb towards the door.

  “Sorry,” one of the boys said dejectedly.

  “Teenagers! They’re gonna be the death of me,” Annette muttered. “I think their parents just dropped them off here like we’re some sort of babysitting service.”

  “I hear ya,” Beckett chuckled.

  Annette’s face softened like fruit left too long on the counter. “Aw, now. You don’t know. Jazzie’s one of the good ones.”

  “Yeah, most of the time, when she’s not trying to run my life.”

  Annette let out a throaty laugh that had the raspy sound of a smoker. “That’s girls for ya.” She frowned. “I’d better run and see why the lines are so long at the concession stand.” She rolled her eyes. “Some of the workers take their sweet time. It’s nearly impossible to get good help these days. See ya, Beckett.” When she got a couple of steps away, she glanced back. “Oh, I’m looking forward to your little dance.”

  He waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah.” Tradition had it that whichever one lost—him or Jazzie—had to do a dance to some outlandish, hokey song that Annette blasted over the speakers. The past three times Jazzie had lost, so she had to eat crow and do the dance. Tonight, Jazzie was out for blood.

  Beckett strode over to the lane where Jazzie was waiting. As he sat down and removed his shoes, his phone buzzed. It was a text from J. C. saying he wasn’t going to be able to make it tonight. “Well, J. C.’s out. Harry called earlier today and cancelled because his daughter had something going on at her school tonight. I guess that leaves you and me, kiddo.”

  Jazzie thrust out her lip in a pout. “Too bad. I was hoping they’d come.”

  “Me too.”

  Her eyes danced with laughter. “So, they could see you get your butt kicked by a girl.” Jazzie rolled up her sleeves and went to retrieve her ball.

  “You talk big for a little girl,” he drawled, settling into his seat and stretching out his legs.

  She just rolled her eyes. A second later, Beckett came out of his seat when Jazzie bowled a strike. Despite the friendly competition, he was fiercely proud of his daughter who excelled at everything she put her mind to.

  Jazzie pumped a fist in the air. “That’s what I’m talking about.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Your turn. Let’s see you top that.” She practically skipped to her seat.

  Beckett stood and retrieved his ball. “You set the bar high.” He held up the ball, eyeing the pins, before drawing his arm back and releasing the ball. At first, it went straight down the center. Then, at the last minute, it curved to the left, only hitting two pins. “Hey, there must be something wrong with that ball,” he complained in jest.

  “Or your aim. Too bad,” Jazzie said in a singsong voice. She grinned. “I’m sure looking forward to your dance.”

  A smile stole over his lips. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” This time, he corrected his swing, sending the ball right down the center where it landed him a spare. He pumped a fist, shooting Jazzie a triumphant look.

  “Good recovery,” Jazzie said admiringly.

  As Beckett sat down in his seat, his eye caught on the woman bowling next to them. His heart skipped a beat. To say she was beautiful was as much of an understatement as saying Park City had snow in winter. The woman was stunning. Medium height, she was thin but shapely in tight-fitting jeans and a denim button-down shirt. Her long, honey-blonde hair bounced lightly against her slender shoulders as she moved. He knew he shouldn’t stare, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. She retrieved a ball from the return and walked to her lane, holding the ball to her chest. When she let go, the ball bounced noisily on the wood floor before toppling into the gutter.

  Her shoulders dropped a fraction in disappointment as she went back to get her ball. She appeared to be alone. Interesting. It wasn’t often that people bowl
ed alone. He watched as she tried again. Like the first time, the ball went straight into the gutter.

  As she walked regally back to get her ball, she must’ve felt Beckett watching her because she looked in his direction. Electricity jolted through him like a live wire when their eyes met. A stupid grin washed over his face, and he felt like he was sixteen again.

  She smiled. It was a glorious, full-mouth smile that crinkled her eyes. Beckett couldn’t tell from this distance what color her eyes were, but he was dying to know.

  “Did you see that? Another strike! Two in a row,” Jazzie announced, her voice singing with excitement.

  The woman looked down as she reached for her ball, breaking eye contact.

  “You didn’t even see it, did you?”

  “Huh?” He shook his head, coming out of the daze as he focused on Jazzie whose brows were scrunched, her face squished with irritation. She waved a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Dad. I just bowled another strike.”

  He forced his mind back to Jazzie. “Wow! Two in a row. You’re on a roll.”

  “Yeah.” She shot her fist in the air.

  As Beckett stood, he couldn’t help but steal another glance at the woman. This go-around, she managed to knock over three pins. Jazzie followed his eyes. A second later, her face lit up like a Christmas tree as she smiled broadly. “Ah, I see why you were preoccupied... because of her.”

  Heat blasted Beckett as he rubbed a hand over his neck. “No, that’s not why. I got a text and was reading it,” he fudged.

  Jazzie folded her arms over her chest. “Liar, liar pants on fire.” She looked at the woman, frowning. “One thing’s for sure, she’s a lousy bowler.”

  “Shh,” Beckett warned. “She’ll hear you.”

  Jazzie’s eyes swirled with amusement. “You like her.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Beckett scoffed, reaching for his ball, “I don’t even know her.”

  A mischievous light flickered in Jazzie’s dark eyes. “Well, let’s see if we can do something about that.”

  Before Beckett could stop her, she jumped up and went over to the blonde. Beckett’s face burned as he watched them talk. Jazzie said something and pointed to him. The woman smiled. Beckett was itching to know what they were saying. Then again, maybe it was better if he didn’t know. Suddenly, he realized he was standing there like an idiot, holding the ball. He forced his feet to the alley, keenly aware that the woman and Jazzie were both watching him. Focus! He drew back and let the ball go. To his horror, it went straight into the gutter. Beckett couldn’t remember the last time he’d bowled a gutter ball. Sheesh! How humiliating.

  Jazzie’s laughter floated over to him, but he willed himself to look straight ahead as he went to get his ball. This time, he was determined to redeem himself.

  Using as much force and precision as he could muster under the pressure, he released the ball. He held his breath, watching as it barreled towards the pins, straight down the center. To his dismay, all the pins except for the ones on each end fell. It was a split.

  The temptation was too great. He glanced at Jazzie and the blonde as he walked back to his seat. The woman flashed another brilliant smile that did strange things to his insides. A moment later, Jazzie came back bringing the woman with her! Beckett’s pulse pounded like a fist against his ribs, his palms going sweaty. Normally, he was perfectly fine around the opposite sex. He didn’t know why he was getting so bent-out-of-shape over this woman.

  “Dad, I hope you don’t mind,” Jazzie began, “but I asked Ava to join us. Her friends didn’t show up. It’s no fun bowling alone.”

  Ava. A dignified, sophisticated name. It fit her. Up close, she was even more dazzling with bright blue eyes, perfectly proportioned features, high cheekbones and neat rows of white teeth. An easy smile slid over her dainty lips, revealing deep dimples in her cheeks.

  She extended her hand. “Thanks for letting me join you.”

  Her voice was cultured with a slight lilt. He reached for her hand. A tingle went through him when their skin connected. Her hand was small and delicate enfolded in his large, calloused hand. When he held onto Ava’s hand a second longer than necessary, Jazzie sniggered.

  “Let go, Dad.”

  Immediately, he dropped Ava’s hand as if it were a hot coal, making the situation even more awkward. Okay, maybe he was a little out of practice when it came to women. He felt like a bumbling buffoon. And, Jazzie wasn’t helping. It registered in his mind that Ava was looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to respond. His name! He was supposed to tell her his name. Somehow he found his voice. “I’m Beckett.” The words got caught in his throat as he coughed. “Sorry.” He swallowed. “I’m Beckett,” he repeated with more authority.

  “Nice to meet you, Beckett.” A gentle amusement sparkled in her eyes. They were a light, silvery blue, the color of the summer sky.

  He loved how his name sounded on her tongue.

  Ava glanced back. “Oops, I guess I should’ve gotten my ball.”

  “I’ll get it,” Jazzie said, being Little Miss Helpful.

  Now that they were alone, Beckett wasn’t sure what to say. “I haven’t seen you here before. Do you bowl often?”

  She laughed lightly. “I’m sure you can guess the answer to that question after seeing me bowl.”

  A smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, that was pretty bad.”

  Her mouth fell. “Hey.”

  He held up a hand. “No offense. You saw my gutter ball.”

  “Yeah, but at least you didn’t do two in a row.”

  He motioned. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks.” They both sat down. Gracefully, she crossed her legs and wrapped her hands around her knee. “In answer to your question, no, I don’t bowl often. I was supposed to meet one of my clients and her kids tonight, but my client cancelled at the last minute.” She shrugged. “I was already here when I got her text, so I figured, What the heck! I’d give it a try.”

  “I’m glad you did.” For an instant, he feared that he was coming on too strong, but her radiant smile put him at ease.

  “Me too.”

  Their eyes locked as attraction stirred inside him. The connection between them was electric.

  Jazzie returned with the ball and placed it on the return. She sat down in front of the digital pad that controlled the score. “Let’s add you to the game.”

  Annette strolled up to their table, eyeing Ava. “Are you joining Beckett and Jazzie?”

  “Yes,” Ava answered.

  “It’s a packed house. We’ve got people waiting. Do you care if I give your lane to someone else?”

  “No, not at all.”

  Annette’s eyes sparkled as she gave Beckett a sly look. “You kids have fun,” she chirped.

  “Thanks,” Beckett said pleasantly, ignoring Annette’s inference.

  Jazzie looked at Ava. “All right. Got you in the system. It’s your turn.”

  Ava grimaced. “You saw how terrible I am.” She laughed self-consciously, running her slender fingers absently through her long tresses of gold.

  “My dad can teach you the basics,” Jazzie said slyly.

  Beckett wanted to put a muzzle on the little stinker. Jazzie was about as subtle as a moose.

  “Would you mind?” Ava asked.

  No doubt Ava could tell that Jazzie was throwing the two of them together, but she didn’t seem bothered. “Sure,” he found himself saying.

  They stood, and she went over and picked up her ball. Anticipation buzzed through his veins at the thought of being so close to Ava. Hold it together, man. The key was to act nonchalant, like being next to an exquisitely gorgeous woman was the most natural thing on the planet. He stood behind her and placed his arms over hers. Her arms were sinewy and defined, making him wonder if she worked out. As he leaned in, her hair tickled his nose, and he caught a whiff of her fruity shampoo mingled with the light floral scent of her perfume.

  He cleared his head, wil
ling himself to concentrate on the task at hand. “Be sure and keep your wrist straight when you draw back. As you come forward, rotate your hand toward the opposite side of your body. When you release the ball, your hand should be in the handshake position with the thumb up.”

  “What?” She shook her head. “That’s too much to remember all at once.”

  “Okay, start with focusing on keeping your hand straight and then go from there.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Sure, you can.” She smelled so wonderful. He closed his eyes, breathing her in.

  She chuckled lightly. “Not until you release my arms and stand back.”

  He felt foolish. “Oh, sorry.” He stepped back a few paces. “All right. You’ve got this.” He used his hands as he spoke. “All right, draw back. Wrist straight. Let it go. Now!” His voice raised. “Follow it through. Arm goes to the opposite leg, around your ankle.”

  The ball dropped with a heavy thud against the wood as Ava let out a disappointed yelp. The ball rolled at a snail’s pace three-quarters of the way down the lane before falling into the gutter. She squeezed her hands into fists. “Dang it!”

  “It’s all right. You’ll get the hang of it.” He thought of something. “How much does your ball weigh?”

  “Eight pounds.”

  “Ah.” He touched his forehead. “Makes sense. It’s too heavy for you. Let’s try a six-pound ball.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I tried to find one earlier, but couldn’t.”

  “You can use Jazzie’s ball.”

  Ava went to the return and reached for Jazzie’s pink ball. “Do you mind if I use yours?”

  Jazzie waved a hand. “Sure, go for it.”

  Ava put her fingers in the ball and tried again. This time, the ball rolled more smoothly onto the floor, but still went into the gutter.