Page 152 of The Billionaire Boss and the Barista

Despite her formal country club manners, Phil loved him. She’daccept his family. He just needed to lay out the facts before she started in on him.

“I don’t remember her, of course, but I know how my mom feels about her,” Emma added in a low voice. “She isn’t going to welcome us.”

“I won’t deny those two have an ugly history,” he conceded. “But that bad blood is between them. We are not a part of it.”

“I doubt your aunt will see it that way. Just look at me.” Emma waved a hand over her face. “I’m my mom fifteen years ago.”

“You may resemble her, but you areEmma,” he stressed. “My wife. The mother of my child. Never forget that.”

She made a rough sound in the back of her throat. “Just signal me if we should start running.”

They pulled up to his aunt’s house a few minutes later. Phil lived in a massive three-story American Colonial in the wealthy enclave of Verdant Falls. Situated right next to the river, it was known locally as the ‘White House.’

The original structure had been built by another family at the turn of the century. It had been purchased by his mother’s people in the thirties.

Since then, it had been expanded multiple times until it had become this three-story monolith, one that appeared coherent and whole thanks to the work of some of the best architects in the state.

His father had sold the house Garrett had grown up in right after he’d gone to college. But it hadn’t mattered to him. He may have slept in that other house, but this place and the cabin down the river had been more of a home to him.

Garrett stepped out of the car, hurrying to the other side to open the door for his girls. Stella reluctantly let go of her new tablet in favor of the stuffed owl that was her favorite toy.

As they’d discussed, Emma took Stella’s hand, taking the path on the side of the house that led to the back garden and the koi pond designed to withstand Colorado winters.

He knocked at the front door and was admitted by Consuela, who introduced herself as thehousekeeper.

Phil had always employed a cook, but the live-in housekeeper must be a recent addition. However, given the alternative, using the same cleaning service that used to employ Mariana, it was not unexpected.

When his aunt didn’t come to meet him, he walked through the house, searching for her.

Phil was in the back living room, watching Emma and Stella walk around the garden.

Emma was keeping her distance from the house, so she couldn’t see his favorite relative watching them with her arms crossed in silent judgment.

Phil didn’t even turn around before beginning to lecture him. “Do you have any idea how many people have called me to say that you’ve been seen in town? In the company of thatwoman, no less!”

“That isn’t Mariana Mendez out there.”

His aunt spun on her heel.

Despite losing her summer tan, Phil was looking well. She had what people called good bones, like his mother. The sisters had resembled each other a good deal, although Phil had narrower, more aristocratic features.

And a soupçon more judgment.

“I know that,” Phil scolded. “Don’t you think I know the difference?”

She raised her fingers, pinching the bridge of her nose in a telltale gesture of stress.

Garrett pulled her into his arms. “Hi,” he mumbled into her expertly colored hair.

Softening, she leaned against him, hugging him tight before pushing him away. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”

“I apologize for not saying more in my text, but I have quite a story to tell you now.”

She recrossed her arms. “I don’t think there is anything you can say to explain why, of all the people in the world, you chose to get involved with that woman’s daughter.”

Trust Phil to makethat womansound like the worst curse. “What else did people call to tell you?”

Phil threw her arm out, pointing to the pair next to the gazebo. “Wasn’t that enough?”

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