by Carly Bloom
The corner of JD’s mouth curled up; the little smirk that drove women—and at least one man—wild. “You think?”
Travis didn’t want to talk about Maggie. He wanted to talk to her. Badly. Time to head back. “I can’t thank you enough, Gabriel,” he said, standing. “I feel better knowing you’re on my side.”
“We both are,” JD said.
Gabriel stood. “We’ll walk you out. I need to get the mail.”
When they got to the door, Travis had a thought. “Would you guys like to come for Thanksgiving?”
JD looked at Gabriel, whose eyes were hopeful.
“Mrs. Garza is cooking, if that’s any incentive.”
JD put an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders. “As long as it’s not Maggie.”
Travis laughed, but then he turned serious. “Don’t worry. It’ll all be fine.”
Chapter Thirty
The house was warm from the oven and the wood-burning stove, and the best part was it smelled like apple pie. Satisfied and basically pleased as punch, Maggie removed her apron. She was fully clothed—no naked baking this morning.
She hoped two pies would be enough. Travis had said JD was coming with a date. It seemed everyone was getting serious with somebody.
A few minutes later she pulled through the freshly painted Happy Trails gate. Travis had done some gorgeous landscaping with cactus and sage. The fences, she noticed with satisfaction, were straight and strong. Round hay bales sat majestically in the west pasture, surrounded by apple-deprived cows.
When the house appeared, she literally gasped. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t a gleaming white two-story with a wraparound porch and hanging baskets of blooming Christmas cactus. It looked like a home. A real one.
Travis was really staying.
She grabbed the pies and climbed out of the Jeep, just as Travis opened the front door. He wore a black long-sleeved Henley and jeans. He’d tamed his wavy hair and trimmed his beard, and his blue eyes twinkled as he said proudly, “Welcome to Happy Trails.”
Maggie stepped onto the porch and handed him the pies. They were still warm. “You baked these?”
“Yes. Technically, I baked the shit out of them.”
“Technically?”
“I put them in the oven raw and took them out done.”
“And before that, did you take them out of a box and let them thaw?”
“Look at you knowing where your food comes from.”
The door opened and Mrs. Garza, decked out in a gold lamé dress covered by a well-worn apron that had never seen a store-bought anything, waved them inside. “Come in, come in. Henry’s been waiting for you, Maggie.”
“Maggie! Come watch the parade with me.” Henry wrapped himself around her knees.
“Let me see if I can help Mrs. Garza first, okay?” She looked around. “Travis, I’m…Well, heck. I guess I’m speechless.” The living room was warm and inviting. Picture windows, high-beamed ceilings, a view of the valley called Canada Verde. “No wonder you’ve decided to stay here.”
Travis took her hand and grinned. “The reason I’m staying here has pink ears.”
“SpongeBob!” Henry shouted. “Look, Maggie!”
Henry was mesmerized by a gigantic yellow balloon being led down a street lined with freezing New Yorkers. He let go of Maggie’s legs and plopped himself back in front of the parade.
“Travis, I need you to get down the turkey platter,” Mrs. Garza said. “Maggie, you can set the table.”
“It’s such a relief to have someone in charge,” Maggie whispered to Travis.
“Don’t cross her,” Travis whispered back as they followed Mrs. Garza into the kitchen.
“Wow. This kitchen is bigger than my living room.”
It was nothing fancy. Some might even say it was strictly utilitarian, since it was clearly built for making big meals for hungry cowboys. But it was charming. It had tons of cabinets, endless countertops, and a walk-in pantry. Maggie wasn’t the type of woman who typically got excited over such things, but she was still pretty dang impressed. And was it weird to imagine her landscape plans all rolled out under the bright and cheerful lighting?
“The plates are up there,” Mrs. Garza said, pointing at the cabinet to the left of the stove. “I put the silverware on the table already.”
The cabinet doors were glass, which Maggie knew was kind of “in” since Anna had chosen them for her new house. A stack of mismatched plates nearly hid the pretty white ones in the back. Maggie pulled them down. Adorned with a cheerful bluebonnet pattern, they were absolutely perfect. Had they been Lisa’s Sunday dishes? Would she be pleased about their use today? Maggie tenderly carried them to the table, which was a long, rustic polished pine beauty.
“Where did you get this table?”
Travis handed Mrs. Garza the turkey platter he’d retrieved from the top shelf. “My dad made it for my mother. It went with us everywhere we lived. Sometimes it literally took up half the house—or trailer. We never ate on it, though.”
“Goodness, why not?”
“I don’t know. My mom left when I was little. My dad kind of lived in suspended animation after that. I think he was waiting for her to come home so we could be a family again. Until then, it was TV trays and frozen dinners.”
Maggie had never asked Travis about his mom. She’d assumed the woman was dead since he and Scott were raised by their dad. “Do you know where she is?”
“The last I heard, she was a showgirl in Vegas.” Travis smiled sadly. “But I doubt that’s where I’d find her now.”
Maggie couldn’t imagine a woman abandoning her children. Sure, her mom had taken off, too. But Maggie had been a teenager, and her mom had begged her to come along. They still talked as often as Maggie could tolerate, which was about once a month.
“I’m glad we’re going to be sitting at this table today,” Travis said, snatching Henry’s backpack off the back of a chair. “Oh, and I’d better put this out of the way, too,” he added with a grin, holding up a skinny box.
Maggie nearly dropped the plates.
“I’m going to run upstairs and put it in the bedroom. Care to join me?”
“Travis, stop it,” Maggie whispered. “It’s Thanksgiving.”
“I know. I need to talk to you for a minute.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the stairs. She followed him up, and he opened a door and shoved her through. A king-size bed took up almost the entire room.
“We need to talk about JD,” Travis said.
So much for being thrown on the bed and ravished. “What about him?”
“He’s bringing someone.”
He’d already told her that. She took a moment to compose her facial features into Great! before saying, “It’s weird that he’s bringing her here. Why isn’t he doing Thanksgiving with his family?”
Travis shook his head slightly. “Listen, JD’s a little nervous. Just be a good friend.”
It finally dawned on her what this was about. “Oh my God. What else would I be? Does he think I’m going to launch into a jealous rage? What an ego!”
“It’s not that.”
Ha! The hell it wasn’t. This was infuriating. Embarrassing. Humiliating. “Wow. I just went through the seven stages of grief in, like, three seconds flat. Easy peasy. I’m at acceptance.”
“That’s where you need to be,” Travis said, rubbing his bearded chin.
“Travis, come here.” She grabbed a few whiskers. “I don’t have the hots for JD.”
“Prove it.”
She was happy to. His mouth was so soft. She felt his hand at the nape of her neck and things became unmistakably less gentle. Her heart pounded when he ran his fingers through her hair, pulling it a little and tilting her head back. It gave him better access, and she nearly collapsed when he parted her lips with his tongue.
The man meant business.
Maggie wanted to climb him like a tree and shout Timber! before pushing him onto the bed.
Which made the whole thing way hotter.
Travis’s lips left her mouth and worked down her jaw to her neck. She went limp as a noodle. At the same time, she felt like she might possibly be on fire. Every bit of skin his lips touched was set aflame.
“Oh, Travis,” she whispered.
He responded with a groan. This was going someplace good!
Although now the groan sounded a little high-pitched and whiny—
“Gross, Uncle Travis.”
Travis and Maggie let go with a start. “Jesus, Henry,” Travis said, running his fingers over his mouth. His face looked like it might explode. “Can’t you knock?”
“Why would I?”
Travis’s hair was a mess. Maggie imagined hers was just as bad. She was still out of breath, her knees were knocking, and she wanted to send Henry packing. But instead, she said, “So you don’t require therapy later.”
Henry backed out of the room and shut the door. Then he banged on it.
“Come in,” Travis said.
Henry opened the door. “JD is here in a fancy car.”
“We’ll be right there. Now close the door.”
Henry slammed the door. “I’m gonna tell Mrs. Garza that y’all were wrestling again!” he shouted.
“Do you think we’ve traumatized him?” Maggie asked.
“Nah. We were just kissing. He’s seen worse on television.”
If that was just kissing, Maggie was the Queen of England. “You should probably do a better job of monitoring what he watches on TV.”
“Probably. Brace yourself,” Travis said, opening the door. “Be nice to JD.”
When they got downstairs, Mrs. Garza was staring out the kitchen window. “Who is that handsome man?”
Maggie walked up and peeked over the older woman’s shoulder. No white pickup. A sleek, black Audi coupe had parked next to her Jeep. She didn’t recognize the car or the dark-haired man standing next to it, but she sure recognized the white hat that got out next. It was pulled down very low, shading the upper part of JD’s face. Hiding.
Mrs. Garza fanned herself with her hand. “That’s some Latino sexiness out there.” She fluffed her hair as she ran to the door.
The guy with JD was handsome all right. And dressed up in a nice shirt and tie. He carried a platter of pastries, and JD held some flowers, although they hung limply at his side as if he’d forgotten about them. The two of them stood together, looking at the house but not moving.
Mrs. Garza opened the door. “Welcome! Come inside!”
They came up the steps, the stranger with a smile and JD with a frown. Was this guy holding JD hostage? Maggie didn’t see a gun to his head, but that was the vibe.
Travis shook hands with both men, did some back-pounding and other ritualistic whatnot, and then everyone stood around awkwardly because men were absolutely horrible at introductions.
“Who’s your friend, JD?” Maggie asked. Otherwise they’d never know.
JD cleared his throat and pulled his hat down even lower, if that were possible, as if he were trying to drag it down over his entire body.
“No hat in the house, cowboy,” the other man said.
Holy cow! They were going to begin Thanksgiving with a fistfight. Nobody told JD Mayes to remove his hat. JD could wear his hat in a church if he wanted to, and nobody would dare say a thing about it.
JD removed his hat.
“This is Gabriel Castro.”
His lawyer friend—the one Travis had gone to see. The one Travis had been reluctant to share details about. The one who’d just called JD “cowboy” and ordered him to remove his hat in the house.
Not just friends then.
Numbness spread throughout Maggie’s body. This is what JD had been trying to tell her! She’d been so focused on her own feelings that she’d been an awful friend. JD’s hands were trembling, so she took one and squeezed it.
She glanced at the others. Mrs. Garza smiled reassuringly. Travis looked normal. And Gabriel grinned brilliantly—gosh, he really was handsome—while JD looked like he might drop dead on the spot.
Travis smacked Gabriel on the back. “I’m glad y’all could make it. Gabriel, this is Mrs. Garza. She’s responsible for all the delicious smells coming from the kitchen.”
Mrs. Garza blushed as Gabriel took her hand and gave it a soft kiss. “The way to my heart is through my stomach,” he said. Then he looked at Maggie. “And I’ve heard all about the infamous Maggie Mackey.”
“You have?”
“You’ve been partners in crime with JD since you were little kids, correct?”
She nodded.
“And that’s Henry,” Travis said, pointing to where Henry sat in front of the television.
Henry looked up. “That’s who I am all right. And I can’t hear the TV with y’all standing in here talkin’.”
“Henry,” Travis said in his warning voice. “Manners.”
“I can’t hear the TV with y’all standing in here talkin’, please, thank you, sir, and ma’am.”
Everyone laughed, and Henry rolled his eyes in annoyance.
Mrs. Garza took the platter from Gabriel. “Pumpkin empanadas!”
“I made them myself.”
Mrs. Garza stroked his cheek as if he were the baby Jesus.
“I baked an apple pie,” Maggie said. “Two of them, in fact.”
Travis rubbed her back. “Yes, you did, sweetheart. You and Mrs. Smith.”
Maggie smacked his arm. “And what’s your contribution to the feast?”
“I’m offering up the elegant digs. Mi casa es su casa.” He opened his arms in a wide, welcoming gesture.
“Gracias, hermano,” Gabriel said.
While Gabriel was being talkative and outgoing, JD was being uncharacteristically quiet. He’d wandered over to stare at the television with Henry.
“Is he okay?” Maggie asked Gabriel.
“He will be.”
“Television off,” Mrs. Garza demanded. “It’s time to eat.”
Henry began whining, but when he saw all the food on the counters, bar, and table, he stopped. “Come on, JD. We gots to eat.”
“We have to eat,” JD said.
“That’s what I said.”
Gabriel grabbed JD’s hand as they entered the dining room, but JD wrenched it away. Then Gabriel touched the small of his back, and JD stilled. Mrs. Garza’s eyes flitted to where Gabriel’s hand rested.
“You two sit here,” she said, pulling out chairs. Then she nodded to Maggie and Travis to take their seats, as well.
“Where do I sit?” Henry asked.
Mrs. Garza pulled out a chair. “Next to me, mijo.”
“Can I sit on the big books?”
“You’ve grown a bit,” Mrs. Garza said with a critical eye. “I’d say A through E ought to do it.”
“He refuses a booster seat,” Travis said in answer to their quizzical expressions. “It gives us something to do with the outdated encyclopedias.”
After Henry had scaled a sixth of the alphabet, the rest of them took their seats. Henry immediately reached for the turkey. “Hey, slow down,” Travis said. “I drove all the way to Moulton to get that bird.”
“Why would you do that?” Gabriel asked.
“I wanted to try a fresh, free-range turkey. Thinking of maybe raising some.”
“Nobody’s touching it until we say grace,” Mrs. Garza said. “Travis, would you do the honor?”
Travis was quiet for a moment. “Why don’t we all say something we’re thankful for?”
That was an excellent idea to Maggie.
“I’m thankful for unexpected blessings,” Travis said. “The past few months have brought one surprise after another. I fought against every single one. And I’m glad I lost.”
Maggie squeezed his hand. It was quiet for a moment, as nobody seemed to want to go next.
Mrs. Garza spoke up. “I’m thankful that we can choose to make our own families.”
“I thought you had to be related to be family,” Henry said.
“Not always, little one. I think of you as my grandson, did you know that?”
“You do? Can I call you grandma?”
“Of course. Or you can call me abuela. That’s ‘grandma’ in Spanish. And Travis, I’m tired of you calling me Mrs. Garza. Lupe is fine. We’re family.”
Travis reached over and squeezed Lupe’s hand. “I couldn’t have made it without you.”
“It’s my turn,” Henry said in his bossy tone. “I’m thankful for abuelas. I never thought I’d have one!”
Maggie glanced at Travis. This had turned into a Hallmark movie. The kind that usually made her want to stick a finger down her throat. But now she had something in her eye. Lots of somethings. She dabbed them with a napkin.
Gabriel shifted in his seat and reached for JD’s hand. JD stiffened but didn’t pull away. “I’m thankful for love,” Gabrield said. “And for finding it where you least expect it.”
Everyone looked at JD. Would he take a turn? He sat silently for a moment, but then in a blur of motion, he pushed his chair back and stood.
“I’m just not ready for this.” He looked at everyone sitting around the table, then shook his head and headed for the door. “I need some air.”
“Are you in love like Maggie and Uncle Travis?” Henry asked as he passed. “You and Gabriel?”
JD stopped cold. Maggie’s heart stopped cold, too, because Henry had just suggested she and Travis might be in love. She kept her eyes on JD, trying to be a good friend for once and focus on someone other than herself. JD grabbed his hat off the hook by the door, crammed it on his head, and walked out.
“I’m sorry,” Travis said to Gabriel.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I forced this on him. He talks about Big Verde and all of you so much, and I’m just ready to be a part of his life—his real life. I’m tired of being his dirty secret.” He put his napkin on the table and started to rise.
