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Grayson puts a hand on his chest over his heart. “You mean she hasn’t missed me? I’m hurt.”
I chuckle at his sarcastic tone, knowing damn well he wishes she would miss him. I’d almost feel bad for him if I wasn’t dealing with my own Bishop woman issues.
John enters just as Kenzie comes down the stairs.
“Ugh, come on. I was hoping this would be the year I had something to be thankful for.” Kenzie slams her shoulder against Grayson as she walks to the dining table.
“I’m here, so you do.” He winks at her, but all she does is roll her eyes, then takes a seat.
“Where would you like me?” I ask, not sure if it’s assigned seating or not.
“Preferably outside.” I hear Maize mutter as she carries a hot dish.
“Across from you?” I ask loudly. “I’d love to.”
She groans as she sets the food on the table.
“Mrs. Bishop, do you need some help?” I follow Maize into the kitchen.
“Take this,” Maize says, handing me a scalding ass bowl without warning.
“Oh shit.” I quickly set it down and grab a potholder off the counter.
“Warning, it’s hot,” she muses.
“Gee, thanks.”
This girl really is trying to kill me. Though I don’t know why, because she’s the one who denies everything. If anything, I should be the one pissed at her, considering she bailed on me the morning after.
Once the food is on the table and we all sit, Mila says grace and thanks Grayson and me again for joining them.
“Dig in,” she announces.
John passes the turkey, then we pile on corn bread stuffing and roasted veggies. Once I take a bite, it’s confirmed it tastes as delicious as it smells.
“This is amazing,” I say, smiling at Mila.
“Maize makes the best turkey,” she confirms.
I look at her from across the table, then smile. “Should’ve known.”
“Uh, excuse me. I helped,” Kenzie blurts out, causing us all to laugh.
“Adding the marshmallows to the sweet potato casserole doesn’t count…” Grayson teases. Kenzie gives him a death glare and looks like she’s going to knock him out.
“You weren’t even here, so zip it.” Kenzie snarls, and I swear, the tension between them could be cut with a knife.
Everyone chats while we finish eating, then Mila offers seconds.
“I’m always ready for more turkey.” Grayson pats his hard stomach.
“Don’t forget about dessert later,” Mila reminds him.
“No, ma’am. Maize’s sweet pumpkin pie with homemade whipped cream is unforgettable.”
Kenzie rolls her eyes and stands, then takes her empty plate to the kitchen.
“I made extra this year…” Maize says, pointing her fork at Grayson. “Just for you.”
“You’re my favorite Bishop, Maze. Don’t tell the others…” he whispers, and she laughs. I hate that it makes me jealous, knowing she’s sweet and kind to him but treats me like a walking STD.
I watch the way she lets her guard down, and as soon as her gaze meets mine, she looks away, but not before I see the faint blush on her cheeks.
When we’re all stuffed to the max, I help clear the table. Kenzie and Maize rinse the dishes while Grayson helps Mila put the leftovers in containers. John and I break down the table to its normal size.
“Your house is beautiful, Mrs. Bishop. I love the modern décor. Much different than the B&B,” I tell her once everything’s clean.
“Thank you. We had fun decorating.” She smiles at me. “You want a tour of the house?”
I glance around and notice Maize’s reaction, and she tenses when Kenzie speaks up. “I’ll give you one, Gavin! Let’s start with my sister’s room.”
Maize elbows her in the ribs, and Kenzie dramatically coughs. “Shut up. I better do it, or you’ll be telling him all kinds of embarrassing childhood stories about me.”
With an unapologetic shrug, Kenzie smirks. “Well, duh.” She looks at her incredulously, which makes me wonder what they’re hiding.
With a sigh, Maize walks around me and tells me to follow her. I hear Kenzie chuckle, then she tells Grayson off, which makes me smile. These Bishop sisters don’t make anything easy.
“You already saw the dining room and entryway…” She waves a hand to the left as we walk down the hallway. “The living room is here, though we don’t get a lot of time to hang out or watch TV. Most of us are usually working or sleeping.”
“Looks cozy, though,” I say, shoving my hands in my front pockets so I don’t do something stupid like reach out and touch her.
She takes me through the rest of the lower level, then we go upstairs, and she points out her parents’ and Kenzie’s room.
“Mine’s at the end of the hallway.”
I silently follow her, not taking a second alone with her for granted. This is the most she’s talked to me since I moved to the ranch.
“It’s very you,” I admit after she opens her door and allows me to peek inside. Three walls are a neutral tan color, and one is a bright teal. Pictures of her and Kenzie on the ranch are framed and hung on the walls along with dreamcatchers. A white comforter is neatly spread across her bed, and fuzzy teal pillows are stacked high.
