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When Joan corralled them this morning, she promised Donovan she’d take good care of him once they got to the house. Before Donovan closed the passenger-side door for British, she’d already high-stepped it around his car. He tried not to stare at her hourglass figure in her formfitting jeans. The baseball T-shirt she wore with the red sleeves accentuated the curves of her rounded breasts. He couldn’t believe that less than an hour ago he was holding her in his bed and now here he was, with her family, all vulnerable. He took a deep breath of the cool morning air and pushed the thoughts out of his head. Three months ago, before Tracy, women had rotated in and out of his life. There’d barely been time for name exchanges, let alone hanging out with the parents. Yet somehow with British, this just felt natural. He liked her and enjoyed being around her.
Joan pulled her red SUV into the winding redbrick driveway right behind Donovan, leaving him to wonder if this was a trap. If Joan had figured out what was going on this morning, she hadn’t let on when they’d met her downstairs in the lobby.
“Hey, Daddy.” British walked across the manicured lawn and maneuvered her way through the already-placed Christmas decorations. “What do you have going on here? I thought the Christmas Council said no decorations are supposed to be put up before Thanksgiving.”
A twinge of guilt hit Donovan. He kicked the toe of his Timberlands against the bottom of the car to get any dirt off and to distract himself for a moment. He wondered what his brothers were doing right about now. Will said he and Zoe were heading out of town, which seemed like an odd thing to do this time of year but maybe that was marriage and the two wanted to be alone. Donovan understood. He preferred to stay in on the traditional family holiday instead of being pecked with questions from his sisters about Tracy’s absence or worse, whether Donovan had made any headway on finding a new spokesmodel for RC.
His family gathered every year at his grandmother Naomi’s compound for an old-fashioned, catered Thanksgiving. Given that Naomi had spent her whole life cultivating the company, learning how to cook was never one of her strong suits. No one in his family had learned how... Well, the twins, Dana and Eva, had learned once they married. Maybe later he’d give them a call. The caterers usually left around four in the afternoon. Making a mental note, Donovan took a deep breath.
“Thanksgiving started at midnight,” said her father, wagging his finger at his daughter. They met at the bottom step and he pulled her into a big bear hug, twirling her around in the air. Like her mother, British’s father was equally tall. “Who’s this?”
“This is Donovan,” said British.
At the exact moment British turned to face him, Donovan blew out his held breath. How was she going to describe him? What were they? Why did he care? He didn’t believe in labels. Usually it took him weeks to figure out what category to place women. They never made it to girlfriend status, though the media may have suggested different.
“Donovan,” British went on, “this is my dad, Levi Woodbury.”
“I already told you,” Joan told her husband with a huff and a wink at Donovan.
“Ah, yes, I remember now.” Levi Woodbury stepped forward and extended his beefy hand. “Pleased to meet you, son. Welcome to Thanksgiving at the Woodburys’.”
“Wait,” a little voice said from the wooden door with the stained glass window, “so we have another member for the football game?”
British leaned at the waist. “Eli? Is that you or a grown man?”
A little kid fully emerged onto the porch in a pair of superhero turtle pajamas. In a while, British managed to greet a half dozen or so nieces and nephews, who all surrounded her like she was a celebrity. Their screaming brought out British’s siblings and, one by one, Donovan met her family.
“Donovan, this is my brother Finn, my sister Cree, and twin sister and brother, Irish and Scots.”
Donovan tried to remember everyone’s name. They all favored each other and shared a blend of their parents’ looks. The two sisters favored British with their curly hair but their attitudes were completely different. One of them seemed to mother British while the other smothered her. Both ladies fussed over British’s hair to the point where she ended up tying it in a bun at the top of her head, which only got them talking about her denim leggings and green Converse shoes not being representable.
“Leave my baby alone,” Levi spoke up. “She’s dressed just fine. They were fourteen and fifteen when British came along so as you can see, they like to pretend she’s theirs.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” The rest of the Woodbury family rolled their eyes.
“Donovan—” Levi turned his attention from his kids “—you look to be in good shape.”
“I try, sir.”
“Great, we’re waiting for the turkey to get done but in the meantime the rest of us are going to play some football,” said Levi. “My crybaby boys have been complaining about being on my team.”
Scots stepped forward with his hands in the air. “You see that, man?” he said to Donovan. “My pops doesn’t know how to throw yet he insists on playing quarterback. See my hand? See my crooked fingers?” Scots thrust his fingers in Donovan’s face.
“You’re supposed to catch with your hands like this.” Their father demonstrated the proper way for everyone. “Are you a crier?” Levi asked Donovan.
“He doesn’t cry.” British’s declaration might have signed Donovan’s death warrant.
Given the size of Levi, Donovan understood why the man wanted to play. However, the evidence staring him in the face gave him pause. Thankfully, Finn stepped forward. Like his father, he was dressed in a pair of green camouflage overalls. “We’re going huntin’, Pop.”
Relieved, Donovan’s shoulders dropped. “Aw, man.”
“Don’t listen to them,” Joan said. “No one is going anywhere.”
The men and boys, including Levi, all sighed with disappointment, not that Joan seemed to care. She kept walking up the porch steps. “The turkey is not the only thing that’s not ready. I need some help in the kitchen. Donovan?”
Donovan smiled apologetically at the group. “Sorry, but if the food is going to taste as good as it smells now, I’ve got to go with her.”
“Smart friend you have here,” Cree said, linking her arm through Donovan’s.
