The Sheikh's Virgin Bride(119)

Yvonne pulled into her usual spot, turning off the engine and stepping out into the cold air of early evening. She shivered as she wrapped her coat more firmly around herself. She so often forgot just how much cooler it was down by the lake—it was a raw, intense level of cold that she was certainly unused to, compared to the city.

She picked up her pace as she walked to the front door, pressing it open. It was unlocked, as ever. Yvonne’s father had purposely chosen to live in the middle of nowhere as it meant that he could feel safe enough to leave his doors unlocked.

The scent of warm ham and various spices met her as she stepped inside, and, in spite of finishing a large lunch just hours before, Yvonne felt a twinge of hunger. She would have to detox for a week after this holiday season!

Her father’s wife, Cheryl, was moving about the kitchen in a frenzy as Yvonne’s other set of half-siblings sat at the kitchen table, looking down at their phones.

“Merry Christmas,” Yvonne called out.

All heads shot up at her arrival, and she was tackled by her preteen siblings Colton and Emma, laughing as she wrapped her arms around them.

“Whoa, I didn’t think you’d miss me that much!”

“We didn’t,” Colton said, looking up at her with a grin. “Mom said we could open a present early if we’re extra nice to you.”

“Colton,” Cheryl hissed, blushing as she looked up at Yvonne.

“I was trying to get them to behave, Yvonne. Please know you are very loved here.”

Yvonne laughed it off, giving the kids one last squeeze before she moved to give her stepmother a hug.

“Totally understand,” she said. “I’d offer presents if it would make these cretins behave, too.”

Emma crossed her arms and stuck her tongue out at Yvonne, who wrinkled her nose at the younger girl. Since she had seen her last, Emma had sprouted at least two inches, and Colton was nearly taller than she was. It was as though she were chatting with entire different people, though it hadn’t felt like it had been that long since she’d seen them last, had it?

Her father walked in from the living room then, smiling broadly as he saw Yvonne.

“Baby girl! I’m so glad you could make it. Cheryl is making us quite the feast. I hope you didn’t ruin your appetite at your mother’s.”

“Not at all. I ate just enough to be hungry for round two,” she said, leaning into her father’s warm embrace and breathing in the faint scent of tobacco and a classic cologne. To Yvonne, her father smelled of Christmas, because it was one of the few times of year she ever got to spend quality time with him. When she pulled away, she smiled up into his eyes.

“It’s good to see you, Dad.”

“And you, Sprout. Come, tell me all about your wild D.C. life. Are you thirsty?”

“Always,” she replied, watching as her father opened the lid to one of the pots on the stove and ladled out two mugs of piping hot liquid.

“This is Cheryl’s mulled wine. It’s made with all kinds of fancy spices. We’ve really benefitted from her newfound love of the cooking channel. She’s got a real number worked up for our meal tonight.”

“I can hardly wait,” Yvonne said, taking the proffered mug from her father as they made their way out of the kitchen to leave Cheryl in peace.

She nodded to her stepmother, who gave her a gentle smile as she enlisted her young half-siblings in some kind of potato cutting contest.

“I can finish mine faster,” Emma goaded.

“In your dreams. Mom, if I win can I have an extra piece of pie?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Cheryl said, a sly gleam in her eye.

As the young brother-sister duo feverishly peeled potatoes into an open trashcan, Yvonne felt another sharp pang in her gut. A part of her had always been heartsick that her parents had never had another child together. She was the odd woman out at everything, with no full-blooded sibling to spend all her time with, making fun of their parents together while loving them exactly the same way.

She sighed as she followed her father, and he gazed back at her with a curious expression.

“What is it, Peanut? World got you down? It’s Christmas Eve, after all. Where’s the joy?”

Yvonne studied his face for a moment, eyeing the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his green eyes—a pair that uniquely matched her own. His skin was tanned, as he vacationed fairly regularly, and the wear was beginning to show. Her father had begun aging; she had just been too busy living her life to see it.

“I’m fine,” she said, taking a sip of her spiced wine. The flavor of nutmeg and cinnamon paired with the warm zing of the crimson merlot sent warmth straight through her, and she held the mug a little closer, hugging it. “This is outstanding. I’ll have to ask Cheryl which channel she’s watching, so I can snag the recipe.”

“I’m sure she’d be more than happy to give it to you,” her father said, leading the way to a series of sofas overlooking the lake.

Just beyond the house, the lake shimmered in the indigo of deep dusk, chunks of ice floating on the edges of the otherwise unfrozen body of water.

“Do you think you’ll get to skate this year?” Yvonne asked.

Her father shook his head.

“I don’t think so. Lake’s too big, and it never gets cold enough. Sometimes, I think we should move up north.”