and he chuckled.
“Better?”
“You are such an ass sometimes.” But who was I kidding? There was no heat in that statement at all.
As much as I’d have liked to just stay there and snuggle him or more—especially after that pair of declarations—we had to go. Ian was supposed to pick me up for dinner at his place.
I groaned by the time I climbed in Jake’s SUV, and he grinned at me. “I can find us a place somewhere to park and see if we can make it work in the car.”
“Okay, now that’s just mean.” I thumped him. One, because it sounded awesome, and two, because we were already running a little late.
“Anything for you, Baby Girl.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and got a kiss for my trouble.
Not so bad, really.
But I was so damn full, and Jake set the food his mom was sending with us into the backseat, pumpkin pie and all.
In the driver’s seat, he glanced over at me. “I can carry you and hand you over to Bubba if you’re having trouble.”
I flipped him off, but Jake just laughed.
I really had no idea how I was going to eat the next meal. And I kind of didn’t care, ‘cause Jake just said he loved me and my whole system hummed.
This might just be the best Thanksgiving ever.
Ian’s parents were going to kill me. The sheer volume of food they’d made rivaled that of what had been prepared at Jake’s house, only there were far fewer people. When Sara brought out the sweet potatoes and started loading up my plate, I swore my eyes turned into saucers.
“I know how much you used to love these,” Sara—she and her husband both insisted I call them by their first names, no more Mr. and Mrs. Rhys—said. “You do still love them right? If not, I’ve got other options. Joe and Ian are bringing the turkey in now.”
“Bringing it in?” On the drive over, Ian had been playing his songs in the car, and we’d been singing all the way here. It had been fun, though honestly, I wanted to lie down so bad and just die from being stuffed. I think I’d officially discovered too much food.
“Yes,” she said putting the dish down, then put a finger to her lips. “They deep fried the turkey.”
Oh God. I was going to die for real.
“Stay put, I’m going to get the rest.”
“I could help,” I offered. It was weak, but maybe moving around would help.
“No, I insist. I’ve been dying to pamper you, and we haven’t seen you in weeks.” Well, three weeks—ish. The last time had been at the police station, but probably not a discussion we wanted to have.
“I don’t need to be…” But it was too late, she was already on her way back to the kitchen. I leaned back in the chair, grateful as all get out for the skirt. ‘Cause it had an elastic waist. The smell of the turkey hit me as Ian and his dad carried it inside, and the golden-brown color and the rich, savory scent teased me.
It smelled fantastic.
I was so going to die.
The smile on Ian’s face sent a jolt through me, and I put a pin in my pity party. He’d been so delighted when Jake pulled up with me. He’d come to get me in his mom’s car, even though I had offered to drive myself over.
Jake had carried our leftovers up to join the guys gaming, and it had been kind of weird to leave them all there while I went to Ian’s, and at the same time, I loved the idea they were going to be there when we got back.
Sara was back with another dish as the guys set the turkey in the center of the table, both of them beaming with pride. “It’s gorgeous,” I complimented them.
“It is,” Sara said, laughing as she kissed her husband on the jaw. “Now if it tastes as good as it looks, this is going to be your job from now on.”
For his part, Joe just let out a mock sigh. “Yes, dear.”
It wasn’t long before the table groaned under all the food, and the carving of the turkey revealed not only was it perfect, it had this excellent crunch on the skin. The conversation stuck to safe topics—football, apparently whatever game had been on today was a point of contention between Ian and his dad—colleges, and Christmas decorating. The fact that they wanted to know if I