promised to make sure the Krieger family heirloom would be ready and polished.
Nervous energy filled him now, thinking of when he would ask her. Should he do it tomorrow as soon as they woke up? Or during dinner? Should he wait until after, when Thanksgiving was over so their engagement wouldn’t be upstaged by the biggest holiday of the year?
It was a problem he had yet to solve, and time was running out. He was determined to find the right time to propose, but when would that be?
“It looks like Thanksgiving came in here and threw up all over the place!” J.D.’s enthusiastic exclamation shook him out of his thoughts. “I love it! Thanks for inviting me.” The cat—rather, the African black-footed cat—shifter bounded toward them wearing her usual trucker hat, jeans, and a sweater with a picture of a roasted turkey on it that proclaimed, “I like Big Breasts and I Cannot Lie.”
“J.D. loves the holidays,” Damon said to everyone at the table. “In case none of you noticed.”
“I do!” J.D. proclaimed as she plopped down beside Dutchy. “I love Halloween because that means it’s almost time for Thanksgiving, and I love Thanksgiving because it means soon it’ll be my favorite holiday of all time—Christmas! Woot!” She pumped her fist in the air.
“Oh God,” Gabriel slapped a hand on his forehead. “I forgot what a nightmare you are during the holidays.”
“I am not a nightmare,” she denied.
Damon raised a brow. “Remember that time you dragged us to Verona Mills so you could see Santa Claus and then got us kicked out of the mall because you fought with Santa’s elf?”
“That wasn’t my fault,” J.D. said. “He clearly lacked the Christmas spirit and needed to do a better job of representing the good elves of the North Pole.”
“You called him out because he wouldn’t let you sit on Santa’s lap,” Gabriel said.
“See?” She spread her arms wide, as if proving her point. “Lack of Christmas spirit.”
“You were sixteen,” Damon pointed out.
J.D. harrumphed. “Unlike the sign they posted outside the Christmas village, the lyrics of that famous song didn’t say ‘to kids from only one to twelve’ now did it?” She stuck her tongue out at Damon and Gabriel, then turned to Dutchy and grabbed one of the rolls of ribbons on the table. “Can I help?”
“Sure,” Dutchy said. “Here … let me show you.”
Krieger wasn’t quite sure what happened—one moment, Dutchy was showing J.D. how to make bows for the wreaths and the next, the mechanic had unrolled the entire spool, the red and gold ribbon was tied up in knots, and she had somehow cut her fingers in three places.
“Uh, so did I do it right?” she asked Dutchy sheepishly, holding up a monstrosity of a wreath.
“J.D.!” Dutchy exclaimed. “What did you—how did you even manage to get these maple leaves wrapped up in here?”
“What?” J.D. asked innocently. “I thought it looked festive!”
“Happy Thanksgiving!” Daniel greeted as he walked up to them, Sarah in tow. Sarah and Darcey’s younger brother, Adam, followed behind them in his motorized wheelchair. “Wow, this looks amazing, Dutchy,” the bear shifter said.
“Yeah, the decorations are stunning,” Sarah raved.
“Hey,” Adam greeted, chin lifting in that ‘I’m too cool to say Happy Thanksgiving’ kind of way only a teenager could pull off. “What’s up? When do we eat? I’m starving.”
“Starving already?” Anders groaned as he strode up to them, Darcey by his side. “You just ate three slices of pizza at home.” He shook his head exasperatingly. “But, great job, Dutchy,” he said, then grimaced when he looked at J.D.’s wreath. “Now that looks like your handiwork, McNamara.”
“Go fuck a French horn, Stevens,” she hissed.
“Be a nice kitty now,” he chortled. “So … how about caracal?”
J.D. crossed her arms over her chest. “Nuh-uh, you’re not going to make me say it.”
Anders had found out that J.D. had shifted in front of Dutchy and Krieger, and had begged them to tell him what J.D. was. They refused, of course, and now he was a man on a mission, trying to discover her animal. He took a guess each time they crossed paths, but had yet to get it right.
Darcey rolled her eyes. “I apologize for my mate. I swear I can’t take him anywhere.”
“It’s all right, Darcey. Don’t apologize for him.” Getting to her feet, J.D. turned to Anders. “However, I think you owe an apology to a tree somewhere for providing you oxygen.”
“Hey!” Anders protested.
J.D. chuckled. “All right, I’m gonna go look for some snacks. I’ll