Page 17 of Flown in for Christmas

“I heard you were bringing someone,” she muses. “I just didn’t have the heart to believe it.” She extends her hand to me, eyeing me in a way that, from woman to woman, I can tell she isn’t happy I’m here—or with Nick. “I’m Darcy.”

I shake her hand. “Joy. Nick’s fiancée.”

A blind man wouldn’t miss the twitch in Darcy’s eye as she stares down at Nick’s great grandmother’s ring sitting on my left hand. “It would appear so,” she says before her attention shifts to Nick, her voice bouncing with her words. “Congratulations on your…sudden engagement.”

My brow furrows. Why would she say it like that?

“Well, you know what they say,” Nick chimes, his arm circling my waist as he tugs me against him. “When you know, you know. Right, darling?”

He gazes down at me and reaches out to tilt my face upward. His lips gravitate toward mine. His breath ghosts over my lips as he slides his tongue over the seam of them, asking for permission. I grant it and place a hand between his collar and jaw to hold me steady. The moment is almost enough to drown out the retreat of Darcy’s sparkly heels against the hardwoods.

Nick, however, doesn’t notice. He pulls me in, deepening the kiss. And it takes everything in me to draw back. His gaze is heated as I do—until he looks over his shoulder and realizes we’re alone.

He takes a step back. “Sorry, I—”

“It’s fine,” I murmur, taking his hand in mine. His gaze darkens and he grips my hand firmly as I say, “Lead the way, fiancé.”

We enter the dining room hand in hand and the space lights up with a warm welcome even at our late arrival. The grand table is set forfifteen in a more classic Christmas feel than the exterior. My head is on a swivel admiring it all. Growing up, my mother would decorate, of course, but never like this.Thisis on a whole other level.

Nick subtly reintroduces me to everyone I met at the airport mere hours ago, including a few new faces. His grandparents on his mother’s side, Frank and Ethel, and his cousin—the snake in the grass, Nick mentioned—Eric.

“Sorry we missed the action,” his cousin says, Darcy at his side as he shakes my hand a bit longer than I’m comfortable with. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

“You, too.” I smile.

Eric releases his hold only to continue staring at me. He’s maybe four or five inches taller than me—nothing compared to Nick’s towering stature—and yet, I get the impression he’stryingto make me feel small. As if I’m beneath him. Unwelcome, even.

I don’t like it.

By all accounts he looks harmless with his shaggy, light brown hair, wearing casual slacks and a button-down shirt.Lipstick on a polar bear, as my father would call it. Nick is wrung taut beside me, and I can see why. There’s something…off about him. I make a mental note to ask more questions later when we’re alone.

Eric takes his seat next to Darcy, who hasn’t spoken another word to us, and Nick leads me around the table to our seats.

“Sit, sit,” Mrs. Davis calls, carrying a large dish to the table. She places it down amongst a sea of others. Every signature dish you’dsee during the holidays is spread out before us. “You’re just in time.”

With Nick’s father at the head of the table—and Eric at the other—we’re seated in the middle beside Rich and Leah. Nick’s sister, Natalie, and her little family across from us. I peer over at myfiancéonly to find him glaring at the far end of the table. I touch his knee to get his attention and his head snaps to me.

“I don’t think your mom would be very happy if your cousin spontaneously combusted in the middle of dinner,” I whisper-tease.

The tightness in his shoulders visibly eases as a soft smile graces his lips. “She’d forgive me.”

I smile, passing the green beans to him when they come around. Conversations float around the table filled with smiles and laughter. The night seems to be going well, considering how tense Nick’s been this entire time. I decide to make it my mission that he has fun this week. Why waste energy on some jerk when you could be eating pumpkin pie with extra whipped cream or brownies cut in the shape of Christmas trees with green frosting and sprinkles?

“Oh, not those, dear,” Mrs. Davis says, plucking the red Santa container from my hands before I can take it out to the dining room for dessert. She returns them to their spot in the fridge. “Those are Bruce’sspecialbrownies.” She winks.

My brow furrows as Aunt Sara shuffles in with a chuckle. “They’re drugged!” she hoots with laughter and Mrs. Davis rolls her eyes, smiling.

“They’re baked with marijuana,” Mrs. Davis tells me. “He’s never been a big fan of smoking, you know, and his doctor recommended it to help manage his stress and to help him relax more. They also help him sleep after those god-awful treatments.”

“Oh,” I breathe, a pang in my chest at the reminder of Nick’s father’s declining health. “I, um, I’m so sorry. When Nick told me—”

She pats my shoulder. “No need to be sorry, dear. It’s no one’s fault.” Her eyes shimmer in the warm lighting of the awe-inspiring kitchen any chef, baker, or mac & cheese maker would die to cook in. “We’re over the moon to see our son find love during such a hard time. I haven’t seen him this happy in years.”

Donotcry, Joy. “That’s…really sweet of you to say, Mrs. Davis,” I push out. “And thank you for inviting me into your home. It’s breathtaking. I can’t imagine how long it took you to decorate all of this.”

“You’re too kind, Joy,” she beams, pulling me in for a hug—the second one this evening and the fourth one today. “And please, call me Betty. Bruce, too. He’ll have a field day if he hears you using Mr. and Mrs. Davis.” She chuckles, handing me a green Christmas tree container filled with ‘family friendly’ brownies.

I walk the treats out to the dining room with a smile on my face—only to realize Nick is talking about…me.

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