Liars (Licking Thicket 2)

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 you.”

I knew he meant that as well as I knew anything in life. But still, I said, “I insist,” because I was starting to understand that saying yes to Diesel, even when the things he suggested were crazy—heck, especially when the things he suggested were crazy—didn’t just make him happy, they’d made me happier than I’d ever been in my life too.

Diesel spun me around in a circle and pressed another quick kiss to my lips. “Thanks, baby.” He adjusted the straps on my overalls, then patted my chest and tossed me a wink as he walked out the bedroom door. “I’ll grab Biscuit and make sure he’s had his walk before we get in the car. You got Marigold?”

“Absolutely. Diaper bag is packed, and I’ve got her costume ready to go,” I assured him. “Be down in two minutes.”

But after Diesel left, I took a second to look around the quiet room before I followed him down the hall. Early afternoon sunlight poured through the double windows, turning all the trees flame colored, and beyond the tall fence that ringed our enormous yard, I could just make out the roofline of the little house by the junkyard where we used to live, which Diesel was repurposing as an office. In front of the window sat the giant wrought-iron bedframe Diesel had rescued from his own salvage yard and refurbished to fit a king-sized mattress, and on top of that was the double wedding-knot quilt his aunt Dot had sewn just for us.

Taking it all in, I smiled. The room was a perfect representation of Diesel and me. A little bit who we had been, a whole lot of who we were now. A little bit of junk other people had thrown away because they hadn’t seen its value, and a whole lot of beauty stitched together by our family and friends… not to mention, the friends who’d become family.