Page 6 of Stuff My Turkey
I hadn't meant to get fired up, but I couldn't help it. This wasn't just business; it was everything I'd poured myself into since taking over the ranch from my folks, who were now enjoying a well-deserved retirement on South Padre Island.
Honey's expression shifted as she studied me over her cup. "This really matters to you, doesn't it?"
I looked away, uncomfortable with her sudden interest. "Someone has to care."
She added a third spoonful of sugar to her coffee. "So what's our story? How did the cowboy and the lawyer cross paths and fall madly in love?"
"We reconnected at a charity event in Austin three months ago," I said, having played this out during my sleepless night. "Legal aid fundraiser. Knox dragged me along."
"Plausible," she nodded, looking impressed. "Then what? You dazzled me with turkey facts?"
My lips twitched. "Something like that. We kept it quiet because of Knox."
"And I supposedly come to the ranch on weekends?"
"When your schedule permits. You've been helping me prepare for Thanksgiving season."
She nearly choked on her coffee. "Helping you prepare birds for slaughter? That's a terrible cover story for a vegetarian."
"For breeding," I corrected. "The birds we sell go to dinner tables, yes, but the breeding stock lives out their natural lives here."
"So I'm a city girl who's fallen for country living? That's quite a stretch, McGraw."
"No bigger a stretch than me falling for someone who tried to kidnap my five-thousand-dollar tom." The words came out sharper than intended, and I regretted them when her face fell.
"Right," she said quietly. "This is blackmail, not a romance novel."
I set down my mug. "I didn't mean—"
"It's fine." She slid off the counter, tugging the oversized sweats higher on her hips. "We've established our cover story. What else?"
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling like I'd stepped in something I couldn't easily scrape off my boot. "You needclothes. And probably other... woman things before meeting the Vickerys."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me? What's wrong with how I look?"
Nothing was wrong with how she looked. That was part of the problem. Even in baggy sweats with bedhead, she was the most striking woman who'd ever stood in my kitchen.
"You're supposed to be my girlfriend who spends time on a ranch," I said carefully. "Your mud-caked clothes from last night need washing, and those fancy city jeans wouldn't look right for a down-home cowgirl anyway. You need clothes you can work a farm in and more presentable ones for keeping company."
"Fine," she relented. "Where do you suggest I go? The feed store for overalls?"
"Laverne's," I said. "She runs the beauty shop in town—Fringe Benefits. Has a teenage daughter. I figure if anyone could help, she’d be the gal."
Honey's expression was pure skepticism. "I don’t know."
"Fringe Benefits is an institution in Bitter Root," I said, draining my coffee. "And Laverne knows everyone's business, so she'll spread word about my new girlfriend before we could ourselves."
"Perfect. A makeover in a place called Bitter Root and small-town gossip—exactly how I’d hoped to spend Thanksgiving."
I glanced at the microwave clock. "We should head into town soon. Vickerys are arriving around eight tonight."
"And what will we do until then?" She grabbed a second muffin.
"Make sure you can play the part without calling Earl Vickery a 'patriarchal dinosaur' when he inevitably says something that offends you."
Her cheeks flushed pink. "That was one time, and Judge Hartman had it coming after his blatant violation of equal protection principles."
"Maybe so," I conceded, "but Earl Vickery's check will have a lot of zeroes, so try to keep your righteous anger under wraps."
