Page 15 of Stuff My Turkey
"You will," Dottie said, patting my arm like I was a particularly slow child. "Heath’s kin are very family-oriented. Remember McGraw men expect a proper home life. You two better get moving if you hope to give your parents grandchildren."
My cheeks burned. "We're not quite at that stage yet."
"Don't wait too long, dear. You only have so much time left." She gestured vaguely toward my midsection. "Everything starts to go downhill after you hit thirty.”
Before I could formulate a response that wouldn't involve comparing Dottie to various parasitic organisms, Heath appeared in the doorway.
"Everything okay in here?" he asked, glancing between us.
"Girl talk," Dottie chirped. "I was telling Honey how important family is to the McGraws."
Heath's eyes found mine, concern evident in his gaze. "Oh, I think she knows what matters to me." He slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me against his side. "And I know what matters to her. We're figuring it out together."
The simple declaration, even though part of our act, made my heart flutter traitorously.
"Well," Earl announced, joining us in the kitchen, "we'd best be heading out. Got meetings in town all day. Investors don't impress themselves!"
"Will we see you for dinner?" Heath asked.
"No need to trouble yourselves," Dottie said. "We've got dinner plans with the Nichols. We'll stop by tomorrow to see the breeding operation."
After they left, I sagged against the counter. "That woman is a nightmare. Did you hear what she said to me? 'Everything goes downhill after thirty.' Like I'm some broodmare with an expiration date!"
Heath chuckled. "Don't let her get to you."
"It's not funny," I insisted, though my outrage was already fading. "And I'm sorry about the pig comment. It slipped out."
"Don't be." His smile was genuine. "I had to try real hard not to laugh. The look on Earl's face was worth it."
My smile came easily in response. "You're not mad?"
"Takes more than that to rattle me, Counselor." Heath turned to wash his coffee mug, his shoulders relaxed. "Besides, keeping up appearances around those two is exhausting enough without walking on eggshells in our own home."
Our home. The phrase, casual as it was, stirred something in my chest.
Before I could dwell on it, the sound of tires on gravel announced another visitor. Heath glanced out the window and frowned.
"Buck Jessup," he grumbled. "Perfect timing."
"The factory farm guy? The one I was actually trying to steal from?"
"The very same." Heath dried his hands on a dish towel. "Follow my lead, okay? He's a nosy son of a bitch, and if he catches wind that our relationship isn't real, he'll use it against me with the Vickerys."
"Got it. Devoted girlfriend mode activated."
Buck turned out to be exactly what I'd expected—middle-aged, sporting an expensive but tacky western shirt stretched tight across his paunch, with a perpetual sneer. The handshake he offered me lingered too long, his gaze traveling down my body in a way that made me want to bathe in hand sanitizer.
"Well now, Heath," Buck drawled, settling uninvited onto the couch, "you've been holding out on us. Where'd you find this pretty little filly?"
I bristled at being called a "filly," but plastered on a smile. "Austin."
"City girl, huh?" His gaze flicked to Heath. "Slumming it out here in the sticks?"
Heath's jaw tightened. "Was there something you needed, Buck? We're in the middle of some things."
"Just being neighborly," Buck said, though his expression was anything but friendly. "Heard the Vickerys were in town. Thought I'd swing by, see how the competition's doing."
"Not much competition when your operation produces genetically depleted birds," Heath said mildly, though I could feel the tension radiating from him.
