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Yet it didn’t work.
I was a crying mess.
I’d woken up with a determined expression on my face today, absolutely certain that I would be accomplishing my goals.
Except, now I wasn’t so certain.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure that I could get this turkey done before dinner at four.
I hadn’t realized that there was such a process into getting a turkey from the bag into the oven.
And shit, I hadn’t even preheated the oven.
I started to cry harder.
Then there was a shuffle at my door, and then the door was opened and Castiel was filling the tiny doorway that led up into my RV.
Elation skittered through me as I stared at the man that was quickly becoming my hero.
I ran to him and threw my arms around his midsection.
And the best part? He wrapped those long, strong arms around me, too. He held me so tight that I instantly knew that everything would be okay.
My grandmother probably made a backup turkey. And she also made a ham.
If this stupid turkey was needed, I’d be royally surprised.
My cries turned to sniffles, and soon thereafter, I was only left with the puffy eye feeling and the knowledge that I loved this man.
It’d happened fast.
I’d gone from disliking him immensely from the moment that he gave me a ticket, to knowing without a shadow of a doubt that this man was it for me.
Castiel was the love of my life.
He’d been there when no one else had been…and given me things that I’d never known I needed.
“What’s with all those tears, pretty girl?” he asked. “Let’s go make us a turkey.”
I reluctantly pulled from his arms, but before I could take more than a step back toward the turkey, he was pulling me to him and slamming his mouth down on my own.
He pulled back with a grin. “Salty.”
I snickered, then went up onto my tippy toes and kissed him again.
Mine was sweeter than his, more of a thank you than a ‘I haven’t seen you in hours’ kind of kiss.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Cas,” I whispered to him.
He winked down at me and then dropped one last kiss to my upturned lips before pulling me toward the kitchen.
“Now, here’s what I propose,” he suggested. “I have to be at my parents’ house at noon. We’re going to fry turkeys, four of them, and I don’t think they’ll even notice if you want to slip yours in there, too. That way, you can come with me, be my buffer, get your turkey cooked, and I don’t have to be alone with my parents. Annnnd, I have an excuse to leave, because then I’ll go with you to your family’s at four.”
I thought about that.
“I thought that you didn’t talk with your parents?” I said.
Had I just made that up?
“I don’t talk to them much,” he agreed. “They’re too far away, and I’m…busy.”
“My grandmother isn’t the one hosting the Thanksgiving, though. My uncle is. He has the biggest house, and he’s in Waskom near the Shreveport/Texas border, not at the lake,” I explained.
He nodded. “Even better, because my parents are up from Arkansas staying with my sister who lives in Hallsville.”
My brows rose. “You have a sister?”
He nodded. “Two of them. One’s two years older than me, and one’s two years younger. The younger one, Mariel, lives in Dallas. She’s probably not going to come down because her husband’s family usually gets her holidays, not us. Lauriel lives here. She’s married and has no kids, and no plans on ever having kids.”
My brows rose. “Really? No plans ever?”
He shrugged. “They’re odd ducks. They were both in the military and retired right at the same time. I think they enjoy the lifestyle of being able to get up and go. The only kid they liked was…” He trailed off.
My brows rose. “The only kid they liked?”
He swallowed hard, his shoulders suddenly stiff as he stared at the turkey in my sink.
“When I was with my ex-wife, she was given custody of her nephew. He was about a year old when he came to live with us.” He clenched his fists. “But we’d known him well before that. He was my little buddy. And the cutest little kid ever. My parents and family loved the hell out of him.”
“And she didn’t allow you visitation in the divorce…” I guessed.
Castiel shook his head.
I took his non-answer as answer enough. His ex-wife had really screwed him over.
Needless to say, when we arrived at his parents’ house, every single one of them was suspicious of me.
When I was introduced to them all, it was surprisingly the sister that said, “Hey, isn’t your dad the racer? Aren’t you one, too?”
I blushed profusely and would’ve done a nervous hair tuck behind my ear had my arms not been loaded down with groceries.
