Page 30 of His Wilde Little (Saddle Up #2)

Thanksgiving with my family was always a big deal, although in the past couple years, it had thinned out to just us and now Diane, and of course, Lorenzo.

My mom went all out with the table decorations, displaying her tchotchkes of porcelain gourds and pumpkins, and some of them doubled as salt and pepper shakers, but you had to be careful you weren’t picking up one of the decorative ones.

The table was laid with seven place settings, and each one had a name card on it.

I was sat beside Lorenzo, of course, although he took his seat while I went back into the kitchen where my mom was still dealing with the turkey in the oven.

“I brought desserts,” I said, placing the cake case down on the counter. “And no, I’m not telling you what they are until after dinner.”

“You’ll tell me though, won’t you?” Diane asked. She handed me a wine glass. “Red or white?”

“I’m sure it’s lovely, whatever it is,” my mom said, walking around the kitchen, pointing at things and talking to herself. “And I’ll have a glass of red. Make sure it’s a full glass this time, Diane. I’m dealing with a lot in here.”

“You should’ve asked me to come over,” I said. “I’ll take a white, only a small glass, haven’t eaten much yet.”

My mom stopped for a moment to look at me and sigh.

“I would have, but I don’t want to bother you,” she said.

“You’re with your—your boyfriend,” she said with a huge smile, almost like she was unsure what to call him.

“And I’m letting you do your own thing. But since you’re here, can you double check the mashed potatoes, let me know how they taste, and then I’ve just got to make sure the carrots are soft, you know how your father is about not wanting crunchy carrots. ”

I nodded. It was suddenly all systems go, especially after Diane had poured me a splash of the white wine. And as much as I’d missed not being in the thick of it with her all afternoon, I was grateful to have done my own thing.

“I’ll go keep Lorenzo company,” Diane said.

“No touching,” I called after her.

Once she left my mum laughed. “Bless her,” she said. “I’ve told her to get on those dating sites, but I have no clue where to start, and your sister was being no help at all. So, I think she might just have to pine after Lorenzo for a little while longer.”

“As long as she keeps her hands to herself,” I said.

Finishing up what my mom started, we had a moment where everything was done and we stood beside each other at the counter. “So, does he have family that he speaks to?” she asked. “I bet it’s awfully lonely just taking work that’s offered and mostly working alone.”

“He doesn’t speak about them much, or to them,” I said. “I think they’re a bit conservative in their views, you know. Religious, maybe.” These were all questions I wanted to ask him, but I didn’t want to interrogate him with it. Like all good things, it would happen organically.

“Maybe one day we can all meet,” she said. “Maybe when we’re in Texas next year. I bet that would be nice.”

“Maybe, it would be nice to meet them, but if he doesn’t want that, then that’s fine as well,” I said.

She rubbed my shoulder and pulled me into her arms. “I just think, I don’t know what I’d do if either one of my kids didn’t speak to me or come home for Thanksgiving,” she said.

“We don’t have all that much choice,” I chuckled. “We’re all living here. But I would still come, even if I lived say, forty minutes away, heck, maybe even a full hour.”

Swotting my arm, she tutted with the biggest grin on her face. “I’m going to make sure that never happens,” she said. “You’ve got this whole place to look after, and with all things between you and Lorenzo, I bet you’ll be able to do what your father and I couldn’t.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Return it to its glory days.”

“Then we’re gonna need a whole lot of alpacas.”

She laughed. “Come on then, let’s get these into there before people start complaining.”

Diane was singing when we walked through with the side dishes to place in the center of the table. It wasn’t any song I knew, probably an older song way before I was born. “What are you singing?”

“Dreams,” she scoffed. “By Fleetwood Mac.”

My father applauded at the head of the table. “I wasn’t sure how much more I could take of it,” he said. “It’s great rendition, Diane, but let’s leave it to Stevie Nicks.”

“It was lovely,” my mom added, while Lorenzo was staring at me, his eyes like two wide saucers, trying to communicate his need for immediate help.

Max pulled out his headphones. “Oh, are we eating?”

“Not yet,” mom said, “just wait until everything is brought out. Come on, Diane, come and help me. Jace can go sit down.”

Lorenzo immediately took my hand in his, squeezing gently as I sat.

He was heavy breathing and his foot was bouncing, close to having his knee shake the table.

I placed a hand on his knee and gave him the same squeeze he gave my hand.

“You want me to tell you what I made for dessert?” I asked, hoping it would ease his nerves.

He leaned in. “Y’all don’t pray at these things, do you?” he asked. “Not that I have—”

“No, oh no, we’re not a religious family,” I said. “You would’ve remembered from the last family meal.”

He nodded, squeezing my hand again. “I didn’t know if that was a one off or not.”

“Besides, I’ve never prayed over a meal we’ve had together,” I whispered back to him. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“It’s a lot sometimes,” he whispered back. “I’ll be fine.”

“I made your favorite,” I blurted in a quiet tone. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I want you to feel at ease.”

“Pecan pie?”

I nodded, a big grin on my face. “Yup, and it’s good too. Plus, I made some smaller ones and kept them in the fridge at the house. In case you only get a small slice later.”

The knee stopped shaking, and his grip on my hand loosened. “Love you.”

He said it.

The words.

That one word.

Now my knee was shaking.

The window of saying it back was closing.

I had to say it back, to say those words, and that explosion on my tongue.

“Love you more,” I whispered, heat flushing up my face, fizzling in my cheeks.

We kissed and my sister groaned, but I didn’t care. He’d said he loved me, all that mattered right now was expressing it back to him, and a kiss was the perfect medium. The perfect way to show him, without of course, scarring everyone in the room.

As much as we didn’t say any prayers before eating, we did go around the table once all the food was out, saying what each of us were thankful for. I’d been saying I was thankful for a lot of things all morning, but when it came to my turn, I blanked.

All eyes on me, and I had so much to be thankful for.

“I’m—” I began, just staring at the golden skin on the turkey in the center of the table.

I let myself zone out slightly. “I’m thankful for the alpacas, they’re my best friends, and as lame as it sounds, they don’t spit at me as much as they do everyone else.

” I took a deep inhale. “I’m thankful for my dad, who without I wouldn’t have been forced to meet Lorenzo, and I also wouldn’t have been annoyed at to the point where I was throwing all my rainbow pins at him whenever we were together, like not physically throwing, but just making sure they were in his face.

” Everyone laughed. “I’m also thankful for seeing Lorenzo attempt to milk one of the billies, because without that, I might not have realized how much he was actually trying to impress me. ”

His hand on my thigh, giving me morse code squeezes, if I could even understand it, or knew he used it, I would’ve put it down to him telling me he loved me, again.

To Lorenzo, who was quiet. “I’m thankful for this family, for the welcoming hospitality.

I’m thankful for the work and the horses who have tested me at times, but they’re great, even if Coal is still a big grump.

I’m thankful for all this food, for my first real Thanksgiving since—” he sighed.

“Jeez, I can’t remember. It’s maybe the most food I’ve ever seen outside of a commercial on a TV. “

I started to clap once he was done. The last one to speak, he deserved the applause.

And he was right, this family made a whole lot of food, and what wasn’t eaten tonight would’ve been split up and forced on the rest of us for days or weeks to come, especially the meats.

There was a whole turkey there and a giant ham with pineapple rings covering it.

My dad stood and took the large knife. “I think I’d like Lorenzo to do the honors of cutting into the turkey,” he said.

“Me?” he nearly choked.

“Of course, besides, reaching all the way isn’t good for my back,” my dad laughed.

Lorenzo sliced right through the turkey, a big smile carved into his face, no longer hiding in his facial hair. It was so wide, I could almost feel it beaming at me when he looked to me.

There were mashed potatoes, roasted potatoes, stuffing, bread rolls, ham, glazed carrots, sweet potatoes, gravy, green beans, broccoli casserole from Diane, mac and cheese, and even a small setting of salad that I wasn’t touching, alongside cranberry sauce, and applesauce.

Before I was even allowed to eat, Lorenzo stuffed a napkin into the collar of my shirt.

Nobody watched, everyone was already digging into the feast, scooping from the bowls, and filling their plates.

He gave me a kiss and whispered, “now you don’t have to worry about spilling food down your nice shirt.

” Those tingles could’ve had me wiggle right out of my skin and burst with the heat of a thousand suns.

I wanted to scream I loved him, but instead, I reached for a bread roll and stuffed it in my mouth. My recipe, so delicious.

I didn’t eat much, knowing dessert was just around the corner, and I’d made two of them.

We drank wine, including Max who was stealing mouthfuls of it from mom’s glass. It was the cheap stuff, so any more than a mouthful and he was wincing at the taste.

There was still so much food left once I’d declared I was done. I’d moped the gravy from my plate with the last bread roll, and only managed to eat half of it before leaving the rest on the plate.

“Are we going to find out what desserts you made?” Diane asked as I tried reclining in the dining chair, a hand on my stomach like it was the explosion point and I had to contain it.“Your mom told me I wasn’t allowed to peek, but I want to know what you’ve made.”

“Give me a minute,” I said, grabbing my glass of water.Lorenzo was still wolfing down turkey and ham, making some very satisfied noises. “Actually, we’ve got to wait until everyone is done with food. That’s the rule.”

“I just wanna know,” she said. “Please, whisper it to me.”

It wasn’t going to happen. My desserts were carefully crafted to make the most people at the table happy, and that was still going to be a surprise to them when they were brought through from the kitchen.

Alongside whatever desserts my mom had prepared, but we all knew what they were most looking forward to.

It was an hour later when everyone was ready for dessert. We had some small cups of coffee going around and they were the perfect pick-me-ups after eating all that heavy food. I was thankful for that.

Dessert time came, and my mom revealed her pumpkin pie which was a staple for the occasion. I revealed mine. A pecan pie and a chocolate cheesecake, my mom’s favorite. I’d also prepared a pot of caramel sauce which required a quick blitz in the microwave but besides that, desserts were served.

Slicing up a nice portion for Lorenzo and a drizzle of sauce, I sat down beside him with one spoon in hand.

“Where’s yours?” he asked.

“I thought we’d share.”

“Mhm, you want to share my dessert?”

Pressing my tongue to my teeth, this was not the place to begin feeling the heat between us, but I would’ve jumped into his lap and started feeding him the pie, then eating it off his tongue.

It was possible the influence of wine that had me thinking this way, or the fact we’d both confessed our love to each other.

Lorenzo took the spoon and carefully cut through the tip of the pie. “Open up,” he whispered. “Or it’ll make a mess.”

I obeyed, opening my mouth for him to airplane the dessert. It was amazing. I didn’t try too much of it when I was making it, but you couldn’t go wrong with pecan covered in caramel, it was heaven. My eyes rolled back, and I caught myself before making any moans.

So did he. “Save that,” he said. “For when we’re alone.”

I could feel myself turning just as red as my shirt, and as I turned slightly, I didn’t see anyone watching or even paying attention to us.

My dad had left the table, filling his cup with coffee, Max had his earphones in, Diane and my mom were cutting the deserts up, and Olivia was in the hallway talking loudly on her phone.

This time I took the spoon and fed Lorenzo a bite of the pie. His first taste.

His eyes rolled back. He let out a throaty moan while chewing, his eyes settled on mine, nodding slowly and smiling. “I love it.”

“We’re using that word a lot tonight,” I said.

“Because I’m full of it.”

“Of love.”

He nodded. “So much love.”

I scooped up a second helping for him, and this time he proclaimed loudly to everyone how much he loved it. “This is the best pecan pie I’ve ever had,” he said. “Everyone should try it, or I might eat it all myself.”

I couldn’t help laugh at the outburst. “You gotta save room,” I told him.

“What for?”

Leaning in, I whispered. “My other dessert. Trust me, you’ll want room for this one.”

“Will I?” he asked. “Or will you need to make room for it?”

He had a point, and I would be saving room for that dessert.