“Doubtful. He’s the quiet, brooding type. Kinda like how your daddy was when we first met.” A soft blush covers her cheeks, and I snort. “And ya know what they say? Girls tend to marry men like their fathers.”
I remember Maize telling me the same thing as I grab a knife to start chopping. “And you still married him?” I snicker. “If that’s truly the case, I’ll never want to get married.”
“Yes, you will. You’ll find the one and want to start a family with him.” She brushes a piece of my hair off my face and smiles. “Trust me. It’s in your blood.”
There’s no doubt about that, considering how large our family has grown. Grandma and Grandpa Bishop had five kids, and between them, there are twelve grandchildren and one great-grandchild so far. My cousin Riley and his wife, Zoey, had a baby boy five months ago. It’s only a matter of time before the grandkids start popping out kids of their own. I snort, throwing the potatoes in a large pot.
Mom and I chat and laugh for the next couple of hours until everything is cooked and on the table. Ethan and Harper stroll in just before Dad gets home. After the guys take a shower, Dad carves the turkey, and we dive in.
“You don’t have to eat with your family?” I ask Harper.
“We’re doing ours tomorrow since my parents work today,” she says.
“That’s why Dylan was grumpy in the fields today.” Ethan chuckles about Harper’s dad, who also works on the ranch.
Dylan grew up with Uncle Alex, and when they went on vacation to Key West, they both met their future wives. Dylan and Jessica were always around, which is why Ethan and Harper have literally known each other since they were in diapers. They’re only four months apart and have been inseparable for decades. I see the way my brother looks at her, but he’s insisted since high school that they’re only friends. Regardless, I think it’s adorable.
“Everything was delicious, Mrs. Bishop,” Harper says as I help clear the table.
“Thank you. I’m glad you were able to join us,” Mom replies. “Hope you saved room for dessert.”
Ethan pats his stomach. “I definitely did. Maize bakes the best pies, and I’m having a slice of everything.”
“Why don’t you help Mom clean up and load the dishwasher?” I push. “I bet Maize needs some extra hands settin’ up, and I need a few minutes with her before the B&B fills up.”
“I can help,” Harper chimes in, pushing out her chair and getting to work. “And so will Ethan.” She bumps him, giving him a look that says he better get off his ass. It causes me to laugh because they already act like a couple.
“Thank you. I’m gonna wash up, then head over. I’ll see you guys there!”
“Make sure to save me a pumpkin pie.” Dad winks, giving me a quick hug.
“You don’t need a whole pie!” Mom scolds.
“Aw, c’mon. It’s a holiday.” Dad pouts, and Mom shakes her head, not giving in.
“Nice try,” I tease.
“Hide one for me. It’ll be our little secret,” Dad whispers with a wink.
“I heard that, Evan Bishop.”
“Sorry, Dad.” I chuckle.
When I enter the B&B, I’m immediately hit with the sweet aromas. It smells like pure heaven, and my stomach growls even though I just stuffed my face full of turkey and potatoes.
“Maize, it looks so good in here,” I squeal the moment I see her in the dining room.
“Elle! It feels like it’s been forever.” As she gives me a hug, a burly man walks out of the kitchen. I can tell he’s older than us, and by the way he’s staring at Maize, I realize I might’ve disrupted something.
“Came to see if you needed help, but I see now that I’m interrupting.” I scan my eyes up and down, noticing how tall and big he is. He reminds me of a lumberjack or mountain man.
“No, no. Gavin’s training horses with Jackson and Kiera. Mom invited him to dinner,” Maize blurts out.
“Mm-hmm.” I meet her eyes, knowing damn well we’re talking about this later.
“Nice to meet you, Elle. I’m Gavin.” He holds out his hand, and I shake it.
“A pleasure. I’m Elizabeth, but only our grandmother calls me that,” I explain.
He chuckles. “Noted.”
“Elle works with Dr. Wallen,” Maize tells him. “Which is why I hardly ever see her anymore.”
“Yeah, well…” I sigh, inhaling sharply. “We don’t call him Dr. Dickhead for nothing.”
Gavin’s brows shoot up as if he’s shocked to hear that.
“Speak for yourself.” Maize crosses her arms. “The rest of us call him Dr. VetDreamy.”
“Do not call him that,” I warn with a scowl. The last thing I need is for that nickname to get back to him. “Just because he’s good-looking doesn’t take away the fact that he makes my work life miserable.”