Page 34 of Stuff My Turkey
Heath stepped forward, his eyes never leaving mine. "Honey—"
"Your turn," I whispered.
He dipped his chin in acknowledgment, then turned to address the room. "What Honey said is true. It started as a mutualagreement but became something more. And Buck's right about one thing—I wasn't honest with you, and for that I apologize."
Heath moved to stand beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. "But I need to clarify something else. I've had feelings for Honey since the first time I met her, years ago at Knox's graduation. I never acted on it because she was with my brother. When she showed up on my property that night, I saw an opportunity I couldn't pass up."
He turned to face me fully. "I'm sorry for the way things started between us, but I'm not sorry it happened. You challenge me, Honey. You make me laugh. You see value in what I do here that most people don't understand."
I blinked back tears, a warmth spreading through my chest at his confession.
Earl cleared his throat, breaking the emotional moment. "So this whole relationship was a sham?"
"It started that way," Heath acknowledged, facing him squarely. "But it's not anymore. I’m falling in love with this woman, quite frankly."
To my shock, Dottie began to laugh—not the scandalized reaction I'd expected, but genuine amusement. "Well, I'll be. If that isn't the most romantic thing I've heard since Earl proposed to me during a tornado warning."
"You're not... angry?" Heath asked cautiously.
"Boy," Earl said, leaning back in his chair, "you think we got to our age without recognizing genuine feelings when we see them? It was obvious something real was developing between you two, whatever arrangement you might have had at the beginning."
"Besides," Dottie added with a sly smile, "anyone who stands up to Buck Jessup is alright in my book."
Buck himself stood frozen by the doorway, his complexion mottling with rage and embarrassment. "You can't seriously be considering investing with them after this confession?"
"Actually," Earl said, eyes narrowing, "I appreciate honesty and integrity more than anything, Buck. Something you might want to consider before attempting blackmail at a Thanksgiving dinner."
Buck's face flushed with fury. "This isn't over, McGraw," he spat before storming out, the front door slamming behind him hard enough to rattle the windows.
In the aftermath, an awkward silence settled over the table. Knox looked stunned, while Bitsy's eyes were wide with delight.
"This is literally the most romantic thing I've ever seen," she breathed. "It's like a Hallmark movie but with bad tofurkey!"
"Speaking of which," Heath said, glancing at the disaster on the table, "maybe we should consider an alternative dinner plan."
I looked at him helplessly. "Like what? Everything's closed for Thanksgiving."
"The church has their community Thanksgiving," Heath suggested. "They'll have plenty of food."
"Perfect," Dottie declared, standing up. "A true community celebration sounds delightful."
As everyone gathered coats and purses, Heath pulled me aside in the hallway. His fingers laced with mine, warm and calloused against my skin.
"Did you mean what you said?" he asked quietly. "About falling for me?"
I inclined my head, suddenly shy despite my earlier boldness. "Every word. Though the animal rights activist falling for the turkey farmer is quite the plot twist."
He chuckled, eyes crinkling. "No more surprising than the rancher falling for the lawyer he caught red-handed trying to steal his prized birds."
His hand cupped my cheek, thumb tracing my lower lip. "We should probably join the others," he murmured, though he made no move to let go.
"Probably," I agreed, leaning into his touch.
The Thanksgiving dinner at First Baptist Church of Bitter Root was everything our home attempt wasn't—organized, abundant, and actually edible. Long tables filled the fellowship hall, loaded with traditional dishes and desserts. The scent of roast turkey, sweet potatoes, and freshly baked rolls hung in the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and the clink of silverware on plates.
The entire town seemed to be there, from Laverne and her daughter May, who wasted no time snapping photos for her blog, to many of the race participants I recognized from the Turkey Trot. Children darted between tables while elderly couples sat together, hands occasionally touching in the comfortable way of people who've shared decades of meals.
We found seats together, our mismatched group fitting in surprisingly well with the community gathering. Knox and Bitsy charmed everyone with tales of Austin life, while the Vickerys discussed cattle prices with local ranchers. Heath kept his hand on my knee under the table, a constant reminder of our blossoming connection.
