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“Oh please, you got my daughter out and about this time of year—you need to call me Joan.” Joan then curtsied. “Sweet Jesus, British baby, is this why you haven’t been returning my calls? I completely understand now.”
“You called me?” British attempted say with a sincere face but couldn’t. She started laughing immediately.
Joan narrowed her dark eyes on British. “So you two are on a date?”
“It’s not a date,” British explained. “He’s staying at Magnolia Palace. We’re just friends.”
“We’re fast friends,” Donovan proclaimed along with a slick move: draping his arm around British’s shoulder. Maggie made some odd noise between choke and a laugh. Joan made a mewling noise.
“Well, great,” Joan said. “In that case, you’re coming to Thanksgiving dinner at the Woodburys’.”
* * *
Back at Magnolia Palace, Donovan and British walked through the quiet foyer. Considering the time the festival had officially shut down, the kids here were probably asleep. Donovan did not recall seeing a teenager running rampant during the last hour he and British had spent with Joan Woodbury. Funny how this weekend he canceled meeting one set of parents and ended up not just meeting a mother but hanging out with her. And he had a blast watching the mother-daughter duo throw darts at balloons, basketball shoot and participate in a water gun race to see who could knock down the most cardboard ducks. No one in the Ravens family would be caught trying fried anything, whether it was a cookie, ice cream or even mystery meat. Joan assured him it was chicken. It felt great being a part of the family, even if it was just her mother. Donovan looked forward to being around the rest of them.
The second hand of the grandfather clock ticked closer to midnight. A glow of a fire roaring in the library fireplace lit the way. A set of parents entering the room nodded in their direction.
As tired as he was, Donovan didn’t want his evening to end. He guessed he liked her company so much and the closeness they’d absentmindedly shared, he stretched his long arms out in front of British and reached for the banister. They both touched it at the same time.
Donovan laid his hand on top of hers but she turned to face him on the stairs and let her hand slip to her side. A stab of disappointment hit him. Even two steps ahead of him she was barely at eye level. He could try to kiss her again but hesitated. He didn’t want to come off as a douchebag twice in one night. What was he thinking, nearly kissing her on the Ferris wheel when she’d spilled her heart out about her dead husband?
“Hey—” she began.
“Hey—” he said.
She gave a lopsided smile when they both spoke at the same time. With a nod of his head, she continued.
The fire in the library crackled. “Thanks for a great evening,” British said.
Donovan cleared his throat. “I need to be the one thanking you. I’ve been in a rut for the last few days.”
“Understandable,” she replied. “You broke up with your girlfriend on a soon-to-be aired website footage.”
Was she consoling him when she was the one who needed the distraction? She was sweet, but he was ambitious. “If you were aiming to make me feel better, you didn’t have to drag me on those death-defying rides.”
“Shut up.” British giggled and playfully punched him in the shoulder. “They were not that bad.”
“My nerves are so frayed I don’t think I’ll sleep,” he teased. “The calmest way to cheer me up would have just been to say yes to me and come work for Ravens Cosmetics.”
The next punch landed harder on his arm. “Ow,” he said, feigning hurt.
“I have a job,” British reminded him. “But I’m glad you had fun.”
Donovan nodded. “Yep, and I got an invite to a Thanksgiving dinner. Now maybe my mother will stop calling me. She’s freaking out about me not having any stuffing and cranberry sauce.”
The bubbly laugh sobered and a soft smile settled on British’s face. The flickering fire from the room off to the side highlighted the gold strands in her hair. “You don’t have to come. I can make up an excuse.”
“What?” Donovan feigned again. “I don’t want to disappoint your mom. She loves me.”
“Good grief.” British rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to be able to stomach the two of you flirting.”
“Jealous?”
“Please,” she quipped. “I am going to bed.”
Donovan took a step closer. He liked the way her eyes widened with surprise. She pressed her hand against his chest to stop him.
“Alone,” she clarified with a poke in the chest with her index finger.
