The Replacement Fiance: A Friends to Lovers Holiday Romance (Holiday Fiance Series Book 1)

by Liz Durano

  "I asked your mom to marry me after knowing her for two weeks," Mr. Peters says, smiling as he gazes at his wife before turning to look at me from across the table. "But I totally get waiting for the right moment, Logan. All I want for my daughters is that they find true love the way I did with their mother. Two weeks, two months, two years. What matters is that you love my daughter and she loves you right back."

  Emily still doesn't look convinced. "I just can't understand why Mariah never said anything. Six months is quite fast, don't you think?"

  "Fast? We slept together two days after we met and you said yes to me six months after that," Brad says, taking a sip from his beer and ignoring his wife's horrified gasp as she instinctively covers Jonathan's ears.

  "Brad!"

  Harper giggles and I can feel a scuffle of feet under the table between her and Mariah.

  Mrs. Peters kisses her husband on the lips while all her daughters cover their eyes in embarrassment. "Oh, honey bunny, if you hadn't asked me to marry you when you did, I would have done the asking. I wasn't about to let you go." They stop kissing to watch their daughters' expressions, laughing before kissing again as Brad and I laugh.

  It's a dynamic I never saw with my parents, definitely not with Dad who slept around and even boasted about his conquests to his sons until the day we told him to get out of the house if he dared mention it again. It made Liam and I tight because we were all we had along with Mom.

  "Did I tell you they met at the first Burning Man event held on Baker Beach in San Francisco?" Mariah asks me as I shake my head. "Mom was the total hippie while Dad was there with his buddies on break from the university. Total opposites."

  "All you need is love," Mr. Peters says. "And trust, and a little laughter along the way."

  "I think the secret to marriage is to make life interesting for each other," Mrs. Peters says. "In today's world where there are no secrets, where everyone films everything..." She pauses to glare at Harper who lowers her selfie stick on the table. "You need to keep something just for the two of you. Something special. Something private."

  Harper's face brightens. "You mean something kinky? BDSM, that kind of thing?"

  "Oh, no no no! We're not letting this conversation go there," Emily covers Jonathan's ears again. "This is supposed to be a child-friendly Christmas, Harper, for crying out loud. Have some decorum!"

  "I'm game if you are, love. You were always curious about it ever since that movie, Fifty Shades something, came out and you thought the hero's butt looked hot," chimes Brad before turning toward me, an innocent look on his face as Emily looks even more horrified. "Could you pass the cranberry sauce, please?"

  Mrs. Peters clears her throat. "So what's Jonathan been up to these days, besides hitting the terrible twos?"

  The conversation shifts to Jonathan's latest milestones as I tell myself to focus on dinner before it gets cold. Awkward moments or not, Mariah's family seems fun and open with each other. Her parents are a hoot, the serious-looking Mr. Peters with his thick glasses still evidently in love with his hippie wife with her bangles and bright headband. It's amazing to see just how much they all seem to love each other that they don't even have to say the words.

  7

  Logan

  After dinner, everyone helps out with the clean up. This is one area where Mr. and Mrs. Peters let their kids take over completely while they spend time with their grandson. I volunteer to help dry the dishes but Mariah kicks me out of the kitchen.

  "Girls only," she says as she playfully pushes me out of the kitchen and into the living room where Brad is sitting on the couch by himself. Forrest had left right after dinner, walking Summer back to her cabin and probably making sure she won't burn the house down trying to get the wood stove to work.

  "That's the Peters sisters for you, man," Brad says as he hands me a beer. "They're tight even if they don't see each other all year. You don't ever want to piss one off or you'll never hear the end of it from the others."

  How long have you and Emily been married?"

  "Three years. A year before Mariah ended her engagement with Elliot." Brad sighs, shaking his head. "Now that was a mess. I don't know what I'd have done if I discovered my fiancée cheating on me with my best friend. But Mariah handled it well. Gracefully, if I might say so. I know I wouldn't have."

  "What happened?"

  "You don't know?"

  I shake my head. "Just that they broke up a month before the wedding."

  "She walked in on them doing the nasty in their apartment," Brad whispers. "And to think that Minerva was her maid of honor and her best friend. Can you imagine recovering from that?"

  "I'd have killed him."

  "Tell me about it," Brad says. "Em and I were already married then and man, she was so mad she could have beat Elliot herself. And poor Mariah was simply trying to keep calm because, hell, it was huge wedding. Over three hundred guests. I mean, where do you start letting them know the wedding's off?" Brad shakes his head. "But that woman is the epitome of class. While whats-his-face and her best friend hightailed it somewhere, Mariah quietly informed the guests and the wedding party that the wedding was off, and that was that."

  "And now they're celebrating Christmas next door."

  "He grew up next door. They were childhood friends," Brad says. "His parents used to work at the lodge and they were kinda forced to resign after what happened. They've resumed their friendship in the last year but, I mean, what can you do? They're neighbors, you know? But it only makes things complicated."

  "We ran into them earlier."

  "Did you punch him for me?" Brad exhales. "Just kidding. But you know what, man? I'm glad Mariah's moved on, and with someone who's actually cool."

  I laugh. "Why, thanks. I wouldn't want to know what'd happen if I wasn't cool enough."

  "You ride bikes. You repair them. Most importantly, I've never seen Mariah happier than she looks now. She's practically glowing. And that makes you cool in my book. And Em's book as well even if she'll give you the third degree now and then. She's just being protective of her little sister," he says. "Anyway, have you decided on a date yet?"

  "A date?"

  "Your wedding, man. What else?"

  I shake my head. This is definitely heading toward shakier ground. "We haven't gotten that far in planning yet."

  "You're not planning on eloping, are you? That wouldn't be cool for a florist. Definitely not. Em and I did that, by the way. She wanted a grand wedding at first, but she was a grad student and I was a professor. So we eloped instead, which worked out for us, complete with an Elvis impersonator walking her down the aisle. So really, who needs a big wedding, right?" He holds up his hand to show off his ring. "Look at me. Happily snagged three years and counting."

  For a serious-looking Biology professor, Brad's funny but he could also be drunk. It also makes Mariah's family so quintessentially normal. As Jonathan gleefully runs toward his father with a toy in his hand, his blond curls flying everywhere, I realize I want this… a home, a family. And I want a woman like Mariah to enjoy it with me.

  But as Brad watches me, still waiting for my answer, reality sets in and I remember why I'm really here.

  "Nope. No date yet," I say, shaking my head as I remind myself I'm going to need a few more beers before the night is over if I want to keep this charade going for as long as I can. "But I guarantee you, man, there'll be no eloping."

  Hell, there's not even going to be a wedding.

  8

  Mariah

  I'm glad my sisters don't ask me any more questions about Logan while we're in the kitchen. Instead, between glasses of wine, we talk about Emily's latest kitchen remodeling to Harper's celebrity sightings. It's a hodgepodge of topics that make me smile, reminding me of how fast we used to go from one topic to the next when we were children, and how not much has changed since then.

  It also reminds me that I need to hang out with them more often. But with Emily living in Colorado and Harper flitting fr
om one party to the next—thanks to her job as a fashion and lifestyle vlogger—it's been tough. That's why we make sure to show up for Christmas at the very least.

  When we emerge from the kitchen, my heart catches in my throat when I see Logan sitting with my parents, Brad, and Jonathan. He looks like he belongs and I hate knowing that in a few days, I'm going to be telling them that Logan and I broke up. But I take a deep breath and force a smile as Logan sees me and gets up from the couch. This was my idea, and I have to go through with it until the end.

  "How are you?" he asks when he gets to my side. We're standing by the hallway leading to the guest room.

  "Good. What about you?"

  "I'm good. Better now that you're here."

  "I hope my family's not too crazy for you."

  He laughs. "No, they're great, Mariah. They really are."

  "Oh, look, you two!" Harper exclaims. "You're under a mistletoe."

  "No, we're not," I counter, looking up to see how wrong I am for someone did hang a mistletoe just above the hallway entrance. "Oh, crap."

  As everyone hoots and hollers for a kiss, Logan turns toward me, a faint smile on his lips. I can feel my cheeks burning, the realization that I'll be kissing Logan in front of my family for the first time making me want to blurt out the truth, that this is all a charade, and that there's nothing to see here.

  But as Logan cups my face in his hands like he did when he kissed me on the bridge, I feel myself calm down. There's something about his touch that reminds me it's not all that bad, really. Okay, maybe pretending to be someone we're not is not exactly a good thing but the kiss that follows is. The touch of his warm lips on mine makes me want to forget everything else and wish we really were a couple.

  Then as quickly as the kiss comes, it's gone.

  "There you go," he murmurs, pulling away. "It's not so bad, is it?"

  "No, it wasn't." I know I'm blushing, my family's cheers not helping at all. I've never been one to flaunt my relationships, and I'm definitely not flaunting one that's only going to last until the charade is over in two more days.

  "We can always practice more later, when there's no audience," Logan whispers.

  "I'd like that, yeah."

  "You guys are just the cutest. Can I post this online?" Harper announces as she brings her camera toward her to check the image.

  "Crap! We haven't told her that we don't want our stuff online, have we?" I ask and he shakes his head. "We better tell her now."

  Logan takes my hand and we make our way toward Harper who's standing by the tree. Just like the kiss on the bridge, this one has left me feeling giddy, my stomach flipping nervously. Why does it feel as if I'm back in high school and my crush just kissed me? No, make that winked at me since I never did anything exciting in high school. Probably the most exciting thing I ever did was play in the band and that was it.

  But this isn't high school. I'm back home. And I'm staging a play in front of my family all because the man I once loved and my former best friend are spending Christmas next door.

  "What do you think of this shot? I think it's perfect!" Harper thrusts the camera toward us before Logan and I can say anything. I see the camera display and it's Logan and me kissing under the mistletoe. I love the way she framed the shot and from the way Logan cups my face, you really couldn't even tell it's me.

  "I love it, but I'd rather you not post that online," Logan says.

  Harper looks up, surprised. "Oh. Okay."

  "I'd love a copy, though. Can you send one to Mariah and she can send me a copy?"

  "Sure!" Harper presses a few buttons on the screen. "Done."

  Half an hour later, Emily and Brad bid everyone goodnight, a sleeping Jonathan drooling on Brad's shoulders, and Harper puts on her big white headphones, plops herself on the couch and begins editing her pictures. Mom and Dad have been busy arranging presents around the tree, probably putting Jonathan's presents where he can easily grab them in the morning.

  Logan and I step out on to the porch to gaze at the moon, both of us wrapped in our jackets.

  "I can't believe how quiet it is out here. Beautiful though... but quiet," he says, holding out his hand to catch a few snowflakes.

  "Some nights, you can hear deer come up to the apple tree next to the house and munch away."

  "Really?"

  I point to the side of the house where an apple tree grows a few feet away. "Right over there. I used to watch them from my window. Hear them munch away."

  "It's been so long since I've been back to Mount Baldy to remember how it feels like to live out in the boonies," he says. "Guess that makes me a city boy now."

  I chuckle. "Yes, it does."

  We go inside a few minutes later, the cold finally making its way through our jackets.

  Ten minutes later, my parents follow us down the hall toward my old bedroom. Suddenly I stop and turn to face them. "Wait. Don't you want us to have separate bedrooms?"

  Mom looks at me in surprise. "Why? You two are engaged."

  "But the last time–"

  "That was then, honey," Mom says. "This is now. You're both old enough to be in the same room. Or the same bed, for that matter."

  "Mom!"

  "You don't want to be in the same room?" Dad asks and I stare at him.

  "No, it's just that... what about the guest room?"

  "I can take the guest room," Logan says.

  "It's been converted into your mom's blending room, honey," Dad says. "Unless Logan doesn't mind smelling patchouli all night."

  I bite my lip."Oh."

  "Well, good night, you two love birds." Dad gives me a hug, followed by Mom. "See you two in the morning."

  "Your dad and I have been up since five and now we're pooped."

  "Remember when we used to stay up late just so we could do the whole Santa delivering presents routine?" Dad asks. "With three girls and exchange students in the house, it was crazy. I almost fell off the roof one year but it worked. They totally believed Santa was real."

  "Until they hit their tweens and started questioning everything," Mom says, laughing. "And there's nothing like three tweens objecting to everything."

  "Nothing," Dad agrees, turning to face Logan and gripping his hand. "I'm so happy you could join us for Christmas, Logan. There's nothing in the world that makes me happier than seeing my daughter in love. And the man who makes it possible." He sighs. "It's been awhile since I've seen her smile."

  "Dad, I'm right here. I can hear you," I say, sighing. I love them to bits but sometimes, they drive me up the wall.

  "Well, good night. Don't cause a racket," Dad says as Mom starts pulling him toward their bedroom playfully.

  "Let them be, honey," she says, winking at us. "I'm sure Logan knows what to do."

  "Mom!" But even as I protest, I know it's useless. If their goal was to embarrass prim and proper Mariah Peters, it just worked even though Logan is grinning from ear to ear as he watches me squirm.

  "If you'd rather have me sleep somewhere else, I can take the couch downstairs," he murmurs as the door at the far end of the hall opens and Emily peers out.

  Oh, great. Did she hear him? In my panic, I don't stop to consider the ramifications of my actions. I lean forward and kiss Logan.

  The kiss takes him by surprise but he pulls me against his body and kisses me right back. His lips are soft, his stubble scratching my skin. When he tugs on my lip with his teeth, it sends a wave of pleasure down my spine.

  As I hear the sound of a door closing, I know I should pull away but I don't. I don't care that the time for pretense is over. Instead, I give that kiss everything I have and I'm glad I'm not alone. Logan pulls me closer, our tongues melding together, as if he can't bear to stop now either. When he releases my lips, I'm breathless, his mouth trailing down my jaw to my neck. Then he returns to my lips again, his tongue slipping between my teeth.

  Logan reaches for the doorknob behind me and twists it open. As the door opens, we stumble inside my bedroom, our
lips still locked together. It's as if we're starving, our kiss deepening as our hands move hungrily against skin, gliding over shoulders and backs, fingers catching in our hair.

  I should stop this but I don't want to. Logan makes the butterflies in my belly flutter like crazy. His kiss makes me go weak in the knees. His erection straining inside his jeans and pressing against my belly makes me feel giddy with excitement and desire. It's everything I've ever dreamed of—Logan wanting me right back—but at the same time, it's the very thing I'm also afraid of. I don't want to feel this good only to watch things fall apart again like it did with Elliot.

  Doesn't everything happen that way?

  I pull away, out of breath, my cheeks burning. "I'm... I'm sorry, Logan. I shouldn't have kissed you like that."

  As he pulls away, there's no mistaking the bulge in his jeans. "Don't be sorry."

  "This... I just made everything complicated."

  "Do you want us to stop?" he asks.

  "No, but we have to."

  Logan lifts my hand to his mouth. His lips feel soft and warm against my knuckles and I want so much for him to kiss me on the lips instead and forget what I just said.

  He clears his throat. "Why don't we figure out our sleeping arrangements?"

  "Right."

  We step away from each other, as if the space between us can erase what just happened. But of course, it can't. Nothing can, not anymore. I force myself to look around my old bedroom, from the pink curtains covering the windows to the off-white color I'd painted the walls two years ago, right after I called off the wedding and I came up here to be with family. White walls to signify starting over even though I never really did. I simply tucked all my feelings inside and buried myself in painting everything white and making one floral arrangement after another. And filling everyone else's weddings with flowers I never got to see for my own.

  As my gaze leaves the walls, I freeze in place when my gaze lands on our bags next to the bed... my old twin-size bed.