had come to me once more. “Parrish, I have the best costume idea for us to wear for trick-or-treat this week. Something the whole family can get into. Just consider it, okay?”
And though it had been on the tip of my tongue to say no—costumes were not my thing and never would be—when I’d seen the genuine excitement in his eyes as he said the word “family,” I’d caved like a cheap card table.
Then last week, after we’d finally moved into the Victorian, gotten all Diesel’s girls—including fourteen rescue chickens, which seemed excessive—comfortably ensconced in their chateau, and put Marigold and her fur babies to sleep in her sunshine-yellow bedroom down the hall for the first time, Diesel had caught me in a very satisfied, very breathless moment to ask me about hosting Thanksgiving in our new home with Marnie, Beau, Birdie, and Dot, his single-dad pal Wade, and Wade’s baby Cora, Miss Sara, Colin from the store, Colin’s husband and kid, and “a couple other folks” who wouldn’t be able to travel for the holiday. “I know it’s a lot, but they’d all be cool with eating tofurky, and we can make it like a potluck, so just consider it, okay?”
That time, I actually had stopped to consider it, because even the power of those eyes was not enough to make me impetuously agree to hosting a holiday dinner for an unknown number of people. In the end, though, I’d said yes to that too, because it turned out that the big, hulking, tattooed badass I’d married was a collector of strays. And I kinda liked that about him.
In fact, I kinda loved it.
A lot.
Still, I had my limits, and today’s ask was one of them.
I finished tying my laces and stood, brushing my chest against Diesel’s. Instinctively, his arms went around to steady me, and no matter how dangerous my proximity to those killer eyes was, I couldn’t not kiss the man when he was so damn sweet.
“Diesel. Baby,” I said when he finally let me go. “You know I love you.”
Diesel grinned and his golden-brown hair flopped over one eye. “I do. And I love you too.”
I nodded, believing it to my very core. “And you know I truly want to support you in all your endeavors—”
“I know.” His breath hitched. “So, wait, does that mean we can…”
“No. It means no, I would not like to adopt a homeless turkey at this juncture. Maybe sometime down the line.”
“Oh,” he said, that one tiny syllable filled with sadness. “Ah, well… I suppose it is a lot all at once.”
“It is,” I agreed, relieved. “It definitely is. Remember, turkeys aren’t at all like chickens. For one thing, they fly—”
“Did I not mention this one had one of his wings clipped?” Diesel grimaced. “His last owner messed up the job too, so it’s permanent. He can only fly in a sad little circle.”
“Oh.” I blinked, then steadied my resolve. “But turkeys are annoying. I’d hate for it to chase after the girls—”
“I guess I forgot to mention he weighs seventy-four pounds, didn’t I?” Diesel shook his head sadly. “Poor Wattle just… well, waddles.”
The turkey was named Wattle? Of course he was.
I felt myself weakening.
“But it’s probably for the best.” Diesel nodded firmly and ran his hands up and down my flannel-covered arms. “After all, you might have to start traveling for work—”
“I meannnn… not really. I told you, Beau said he was perfectly happy to have me operate from the Thicket permanently, and my cousin Shelby wants the chance to do more traveling, so I’d only ever be away for a night at a time.”
“—and maybe we’ve taken on enough projects, what with the kitchen renovation—” Diesel twisted his mouth to one side. “We’re busy people.”
“But the kitchen’s already finished,” honesty compelled me to interject. “And you did a kick-ass job of it, with help from Colin’s husband and the other Devoted Dogs.”
“Plus, I’m sure you’re wise to remember that Thanksgiving is in two weeks,” Diesel continued, “with Christmas coming just four weeks after, and our family’ll get even busier. Too busy to worry about a turkey adjusting to life in the chateau.”
“Yes. Exactly.” I frowned. “But wait. What’ll happen to the bird when the weather gets colder?”
Diesel bit his lip and shrugged, and my gaze flew to his.
Gah.
“Okay, I changed my mind,” I said to the ceiling. “Yes, we can adopt the obese, homeless, flightless turkey.”
“You think?” Diesel’s smile was magic—addictive, beautiful magic. “I seriously don’t want to pressure