She's the One (Boggy Creek Valley 3)

Ken frowned. “I’m surprised you’re not going to eat with the Larsons.”

Kyle’s folks had invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner the past two years. My folks liked to eat in the late morning, and Kyle’s family ate around five, so it had been the perfect setup. Plus, it kept me from coming back to this giant house all alone until everyone came over at night. The thought of being the only person in this house on a holiday wasn’t something I usually looked forward to.

But this year was different. “Nah, I need the time alone.” A little bit of alone time would give me a chance to just stop and think for a bit.

Ken gave me a knowing look. “I get it. If you feel like we’re ready for Friday, I’m going to head on down to the barn and finish up some stuff, check on the shop, and then head out.”

“Don’t worry about the shop. I’ll be there later. Just go and enjoy the next two days off before all hell breaks loose.”

“Trust me, I intend on enjoying every moment I can. Life’s too short not to enjoy the happy times.”

I slapped Ken on the back and walked him to the door. After I shut it behind him, an idea came over me…and I headed to find my phone before I could change my mind.

Abby

Arabella and I stood in the small living room of the rental I had an appointment to look at today. Trying to get in and see a rental the day before Thanksgiving hadn’t been easy. Not to mention the massive headache I was still nursing from last night. It was making it hard to even think. I had woken up feeling pretty good, only to have the hangover hit me like a damn Mack truck around nine a.m.

The agent went on and on about all the features of the tiny historical house. From the look on Arabella’s face, her head was pounding as hard as mine.

“They’re open to doing a month-to-month lease for you,” the agent said.

I looked around the living room, then made my way into the kitchen. It wasn’t too terribly small, and it was for sure bigger than the tiny kitchen I had in Boston. The white cabinets gave it a light and airy feel.

Original wood floors ran all through the two-bedroom, one-bath house. The walls were painted a soft yellow, making the hardwood trim stand out.

“Do you like it?” Arabella asked.

Doing another circle in the middle of the kitchen, I shrugged. “It’s close to the farm, and I wouldn’t be living with my folks. Yeah. I like it.”

Arabella walked over to me and smiled. “It’s cute. And if you decide you want something bigger, you’re not locked into a long lease.”

I drew in a deep breath. “True.”

My phone rang just as I turned to the agent to tell her I’d take it. Since my cell was in my hand, I immediately looked to see who was calling.

Bishop.

My heart dropped to my stomach.

Arabella squeezed my arm. “Take it, Abby.”

“Um, will you excuse me one moment while I take this call?” I asked the agent, who motioned for me to go ahead. Looking at Arabella, I whispered, “What do you think he wants?”

She smiled and shrugged.

With a shaking hand, I answered. “Hello?”

“Abs…um…Abby. Hi.”

A wild flutter started in my chest as I fought to speak normally. “Hi, Bishop.”

He cleared his throat. “I was wondering…you’re coming over and everything tomorrow to talk, and since I’m going to be here alone…I thought maybe we could eat together. Thanksgiving. Eat for Thanksgiving, together. You and me. I’ll take care of most of it—the food, I mean. I’ll take care of the food, and it won’t just be turkey potpie, I’ll have real food. And pie. I like pie.”

He stopped babbling and let out a nervous laugh, and I couldn’t help but smile as I lifted my eyes to Arabella. She stood there with a hopeful expression on her face.

“I’d love to come over and eat,” I said. “Can I bring something?”

Arabella brought her hands to her mouth and started to frantically run in place. I waved for her to stop and turned away.

“Just maybe bring a side?” Bishop said. “Oh, and if your mom makes that homemade cranberry sauce tonight, can you bring some of that?”

“Sure,” I said, closing my eyes and praying I wasn’t dreaming. “What time do you want me to come over?”

“Early. I mean, maybe eleven. Unless that’s too early?”

I nearly tripped over my own tongue as I replied, “No, that’s not too early at all. I’ll be there at eleven.”

“Great. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Abs.”

I could hear the smile in his voice, and my heart nearly imploded in my chest. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I replied, “See you tomorrow, Bishop.”