Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Hazel
Growing up as one of five children, I’d thought I’d known what having a crowd of people for holidays was all about.
I’d been wrong.
The people gathered around me weren’t related by blood, but they were indeed my family.
A family that had an unlimited capacity to love and to share that love with others.
Despite stating that she and Brooke could “handle” hosting Thanksgiving dinner at the Double L, Master Derek had decreed that wasn’t going to happen.
And believe me, when the owner of what we all pretty much considered paradise decreed something, not a single person argued.
That didn’t mean we were puppets on strings.
Not at all. Brooke and Moira might not have spent days preparing an entire feast in their respective kitchens, but the evidence they’d spent at least some time cooking was provided by the fact their Daddies held the handles to casserole carriers in each hand.
The dishes joined those of Chef Connor’s as he and Hayleigh continued to add more.
I had to smile as Hayleigh would wait until her Daddy would look away and then rearrange some dish he’d just placed.
“Keep that up and you’ll be eating your turkey while sitting on a hot bottom,” Chef Connor warned.
“Shhh, don’t say the T-word!” Wren said as she and her Daddy and husband, Travis, walked up.
“But, aren’t those turkeys?” Nigel asked, gesturing to not one but three platters, each with a majestic and delicious-smelling roasted turkey awaiting carving.
“Yes, but we don’t want to hurt the Ranch’s pet turkeys’ feelings,” Wren said.
At Nigel’s confused expression, Lawson chuckled.
“Long story but one of Rawhide’s most infamous pranks.
” He went on to educate his baby brother on how Wren and her cohorts had not only staged a protest, but actually recruited what was supposed to be the main course of that year’s Thanksgiving feast into a turkey parade.
Nigel grinned and shook his head. “And they are really named after the cast of Friends?”
“Yep, and now you know why the T-word is forbidden,” Wren said with a tone that brooked no nonsense.
“Right, we use the F-word instead,” Sadie said as she added another dish to the buffet. When the room when silent, she turned to stare at her guests.
I had to say that if I were a Little, I’d most likely have slapped my hands against my ass like a great many of my friends had done when the eyebrows of every Daddy in the room arched.
“Why are you all staring at me?” Sadie asked, her gaze traveling from one Daddy Dom to the next and on to where Nanny J’s eyes were laser focused on her while Moses just wore a big grin.
“You said the f-word,” Daisy whisper-shouted.
Sadie’s brow furrowed and then she rolled her eyes. “I meant fowl though fu—”
“Sadie Marie Hawkins.”
I thought what had to be even more infamous than the turkey tale was Derek’s ability to still an entire room without so much as raising his voice.
Then again, it could be considered a tie with his wife because Sadie just shook her head and batted her lashes and said, “Daddy, I was going to say fudge.”
“Angel, I wasn’t born yesterday so—”
Sadie didn’t interrupt by speaking. Nope, she had far more finesse than that.
Instead, she simply took a single step to the side and then used both hands to gesture at the plate she’d just placed.
A plate that held a tower of assorted chocolates and perfectly cut squares of various flavors of fudge that I was sure Angel and Heaven Leigh had brought to the party.
“—I’m very glad I’ve got teeth to sink into that delicious fudge.”
You had to admit, the man was quick on his feet. He was also able to laugh at himself as he scooped his wife off her feet and not only managed to pop her ass but pop a piece of that fudge into his mouth.
“See, Daddy, that’s why all the desserts need to be up in the front,” Hayleigh proclaimed.
“You gotta admit she has a case,” Jared said.
“You’re such a lawyer,” Chef Connor said, shaking his head as if that were some sort of horrid occupation.
Erika laughed and handed her dish to Hayleigh. “It’s sweet potato casserole but it does have lots of pecans and toasted marshmallows.”
“Yummy!” Hayleigh said, turning to find the perfect spot for the dish.
It was chaos and it was absolutely perfect.
While his twin was soaking up all the hugs and kisses being offered, George was having none of that. Instead, he was giving all his attention to his Great-Gram as she held him on her lap, listening to him tell her all about his new puppy that his Uncle Law and Auntie Book had presented him with.
“Goodness, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a blue puppy!” Gram exclaimed with wide-eyes.
“Gram, he’s not blue! He’s brown, but his name is Bluey,” George explained in a tone that instantly brought to mind his father’s.
“Having fun?”
I looked up to see Nigel and leaned back against him. “I was just thinking about how very much I have to be thankful for this year.”
“We have so much,” Nigel corrected softly, bending down to kiss that spot right behind my ear that never failed to have goosebumps appear. Though, those weren’t the only bumps to pop out, and he knew it! “You’re blushing, Zellie.”
“Because you’re so bad,” I said, giving him a little jab with my elbow.
He chuckled. “You say that like you think I don’t know you love the bad boys.”
I turned to face him, reaching up to cup his face in my hands, pulling him down to me, but didn’t quite meet his lips.
Instead, I whispered against them, “I don’t love the bad boys, Master.
I love a very good man who is great at being bad.
” I considered it only fair that as I brought him that fraction of an inch closer and used the tip of my tongue to trace along the seam of his lips that I felt a very distinct bump of his own growing against my belly.
“Do I need to remind you where all that kissing can lead?”
We broke apart and Nigel quipped, “Perhaps if you’d get here on time, I’d be nibbling on the main course rather than my appetizer.” Before anyone could respond, Nigel chuckled. “Nix that, I could nibble on Zellie for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and still want more as a midnight snack.”
“Good save,” Wes said. “We’d have been here earlier but Mira suddenly decided the kitchen floor had to be scrubbed ‘right this minute’.”
“Nesting? Already?” Nigel shot a glance at where Wes was running his palm over Mira’s extremely distended belly.
“With all that cleaning, I’d rather think you’d best lead your wife over to the food,” I teased.
Wes smiled. “Actually, Mira hasn’t been eating like a farm hand for the last couple of days. I think our little guy is taking up so much room, there’s hardly any space for food.”
Mira shook her head. “I beg to differ. I’ve never eaten like a farm hand.” She dropped her hand to lay atop her husband’s. “As a resident of the greatest place on earth, our little gal and I consider it our duty to eat like a proper ranch hand.”
At that, Derek’s cousin, Rhett Hawkins, stepped forward to run a rod around an actual metal triangle and declared it was time to stop yappin’ and start snackin’.
Derek grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “He means, get something to eat and find your seat.”
I smiled and again thought of all the different roles we played.
A Stetson was but one hat Derek wore. If it weren’t for his and Rhett’s ancestors, this Ranch wouldn’t exist and all these people would never have met, much less become a family.
That was indeed the gift every person in this room was truly thankful for.
In no hurry, Nigel and I hung back as people began to fill their plates from the smorgasbord of dishes that everyone had brought to share before choosing seats around the table.
When I realized that Nigel was being awfully quiet, I looked up to see his thoughtful expression.
“Are you thinking of Thanksgiving at home?”
My question had his attention returning to me and he grinned. “Take a moment and think about that.”
I was about to roll my eyes when lessons from elementary school popped into my head. “I didn’t mean an American Thanksgiving, I meant more like… um”—I caught a glimpse of a cornucopia filled with gourds and leaves and pinecones in the center of the table—“a harvest feast.”
Nigel chuckled. “Sure you did, but no, I was running some numbers in my head.”
“Numbers? Like in how many pieces of chocolate you think you can eat while still leaving room for a few slices of pie?” I suggested as that very thought had indeed popped into my head.
He smiled. “Babygirl, believe it or not, not everyone is as focused on food as you.”
“Don’t let Mira hear you say that,” I teased and then saw a shift in his expression. “Nigel? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, not really. It’s just a feeling.”
“What kind of feeling?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said as he slid his hand to the small of my back. “Come on, it looks like the crowd is thinning.”
I allowed him to lead me toward the buffet line, but this time when I felt goosebumps popping up, I knew they had nothing to do with arousal.