Page 2 of Naughty or Nice?
“My fiancé’s family.”
“I see the rock on your finger now,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.”
I sit back as we merge with the rest of airport traffic and turn my gaze out the window. The day’s dreary, with gray skies and heavy clouds, yet things couldn’t seem brighter. Nate and his family might be happy to see me, but I’m just as happy to see them…
It’s not Nate who’s waiting on the front step of his house to welcome me. It’s his father, Nicholas, standing tall at six feet, two inches, his broad chest and wide shoulders dressed in a blue-and-green flannel shirt that fits him perfectly.
Nate inherited some of his father’s looks—they have the same straight slope of a nose and twinkling hazel eyes—but the similarities end there.
Nicholas is taller and just generally larger than his son. His jawline is square while Nate’s face is more oval-shaped and punctuated with a cleft that I’ve always loved. Nicholas sports a thick white beard and matching ear-length white hair he tucks behind his ears while Nate prefers to remain clean cut and shaven, his hair up top neat and cropped.
The father and son are opposite in other ways.
Nate prides himself on his corporate suit-and-tie style while Nicholas reminds me of a rugged lumberjack.
Even as the taxi pulls up to the curb outside the Whittler family home, Nicholas throws a thick arm in the air and waves. He approaches the yellow vehicle with the unmistakable intention of grabbing the luggage out of the trunk.
“Thank you,” I say to the taxi driver as I slide out of the backseat. I go around to the back end of the car, struck by a sudden nervous flutter in my belly.
Nicholas grins hello at me, slamming shut the trunk and throwing an arm around my shoulders. The hug is quick but warm and welcoming, enveloping me in the light pine scent of his cologne.
Grabbing hold of a piece of luggage in each hand, he says, “Kendall, we’re happy to have you. Sorry Nate couldn’t pick you up from the airport. He’s been working out of the corporate office in the area since he came to visit. If I’d known, I’d have been there myself.”
“Oh,” I say, my cheeks warm, “that’s okay. I made it. That’s all that matters.”
He chuckles. “No wonder Nate’s smitten. Come inside. It’s freezing out here.”
I shiver as he speaks, realizing Iama little cold.
We walk side by side ’til we reach the front door. Nicholas lets me go first with a nod of his head, the same twinkle in his eyes that I’ve come to expect.
“Hang your coat up and grab some cider in the kitchen. Amy makes the best in town.”
I do as he suggests, toeing out of my boots and hanging up my coat on the rack in the entrance hall. The Whittler home is nice and toasty indoors, with the fireplace already crackling as I pass by the den. Nate’s sister helps me get some cider, and we catch up on things since the last time we saw each other.
Within minutes, I feel at home. I feel like I’m about to spend the holidays with my family.
The most amazing feeling you can have when marrying into one.
Hours go by, the sky outside darkening. Other Whittler family members show up, like Nate’s uncle Roy and his cousinFrank. As the clock ticks toward six p.m., we begin setting the table for dinner.
“Wonder where Nate is,” says Amy, frowning. “He should’ve been here by now.”
I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket to check for any new texts. Not a single new notification has come through.
Nate hasn’t responded for hours, though it shows he saw my last text. He must really be busy with some corporate stuff.
I sigh and remind myself it’s the nature of his career. Just like the nature of mine involves long flights across the globe.
We have the next two weeks in Morrow together. He’s taken time off work for the holidays so we can enjoy them with his family.
I have to be patient.
We’re minutes away from sitting down for dinner when Nate finally walks through the door. I’m the first one to greet him in the hall, throwing my arms around him before he’s even had a chance to take off his winter coat.
“Kendall,” he says, pulling back slightly. His lips contort into a smile that’s almost pained. “Hey, you seem excited.”
“Excited to see you. I’ve been waiting for hours.” I reach up to wipe at the corner of his lip, where there’s a slight red tint. “What’s the matter? Were you eating ketchup or something? You better have room for dinner. Amy and I were in the kitchen?—”