“Your turn.” He gives me a knee weakening kiss before exiting the steam filled shower.
I never tire of watching his ass.
A half hour later, I leave the confines of our bathroom with damp hair and no shoes.
Roarke moves around the kitchen like he’s flippin’ Bobby Flay, breezing from one pot to the other, appearing totally relaxed.
UGH, of course he can cook. The man can do everything.
I peek in the oven to see the damn poker hasn’t popped up yet to say the turkey is done.
“How am I doing?” he asks, snaking his arm around me and pulling me to him. He kisses my neck since I have lipstick on.
“Better than me, I’m embarrassed to admit.”
“Look in the trash.” He releases as the water from the potatoes overflows and sizzles on the stove top.
Peering into the trash I find the sweet potatoes and green beans in the trash.
“I had to start over. Sorry.”
I cringe then wrap my arms around his stomach and inhale his crisp cologne. “Don’t be sorry. We can’t all be cooks.”
He chuckles but doesn’t call me out. The love of a good man.
“Go finish getting ready. I think I’m good now.”
I squeeze him. “I’ll be right back.”
Another half hour later, I’m on my way back to the kitchen when the doorbell rings. “I got it!”
“Get Lucy, she’s circling the counter like it’s a smorgasbord just for her,” Roarke says.
Our cat Nickel runs through my legs, then darts under the chair. He doesn’t much care for company.
“Lucy! I think your friend might be here,” I say to our German Sheppard.
“What friend?” Roarke calls out.
“Snowball. Jade’s puppy.”
“What?” There’s a rip of fear laced in his tone. “Babe, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Oh relax, it’s smaller than Nickel.”
I open the door with my now perfectly trained Lucy at my side. “Happy Thanksgiving!”
“You look beautiful,” Chelsea says, hugging me briefly, a Taco Bell burrito in one hand.
“You couldn’t wait for dinner?” I chuckle.
Dean shakes his head at me like don’t poke the bear.
Chelsea shoots me a ‘go jump off the balcony’ look. “Are you eating for two?”
“I just meant, I don’t want you to spoil your dinner.”
She walks in, petting Lucy. “From your call this morning I don’t have high hopes, so I brought reserves.” All her movement stops and circles back around. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
Dean huffs. “Hormones.”
“You say it like it’s not a thing! You carry around a rhino in your stomach and get back to me.” She sits down on the couch and puts her feet up on the glass table in front of her. Lucy hops onto the couch, rolling to her back, waiting for Chelsea to pet her.
“I would if I could,” Dean says.
“How convenient.” Chelsea rolls her eyes.
“Roarke, need help in the kitchen?” Dean asks, probably eager to flee from his temperamental fiancé for a little while.
“No, we’ve got it. I’ll have him bring out the appetizers.” I squeeze Dean’s arm and exchange a look telling him to hang in there. Not long now.
“Great. I’ll just sit here then.”
Back in the kitchen, Roarke’s already got the trays of cheese and salami ready to go. “You’re awesome, thanks.” I kiss him on the cheek.
“Don’t forget it.”
He taps me on the ass before he leaves the kitchen and I finally feel like we’ve got a handle on this, but the damn turkey popper still isn’t popping out. I’ve heard enough stories of people getting sick after eating an under-cooked turkey that there’s no way I’m risking it. I put on my apron to protect my orange blouse.
The doorbell rings again and my heart races, waiting for this thing to be done cooking. Now I’m starting to get a gist of how Chelsea feels.
“HAPPY THANKSGIVING!” Jade screams. “No! Snowball!”
I wait and listen.
“Oh shit, now this is Thanksgiving,” Chelsea says.
“No! Grab the dog, Pete!” Victoria yells.
“It’s not my damn dog,” Victoria’s ex-husband Pete says.
“You bought the damn thing!” Reed screams.
Finally, the poker pops out of the bird and I question if I should bring Roarke in, but I think I can handle this. I’m strong. The hot air from the oven warms my face as I put the two oven mitts on. I pull out the roasting pan by the handle and it wobbles in my hands.
Damn this thing really is heavy.
Fumbling a bit, I manage to get the turkey onto the counter, and shut the oven door.
Giving myself a mental pat on the back, I’m relieved. Pride bubbles inside of me. The turkey is golden brown, the juices drip off and it smells delicious.
“Roarke!” I call out to him because the tricky part is moving it from the pan to the serving plate I bought three days ago from Crate & Barrel.
“Help yourself, Pete and Reed.” Roarke walks in. “I’m not sure those two are going to get along.”
“Lucy and Snowball?” I ask, pulling out the huge fork contraptions the lady at Crate and Barrel said I needed while I was there buying the platter.
“Snowball and Nickel. He doesn’t like her and she’s small enough to get into all of his hiding places.”
Roarke grabs the forks from my hands, puts them under the turkey and raises it out of the pan. The turkey proceeds to fall off the forks, back into the roasting pan, splashing his blue shirt with the juices.
“Fuck!” he curses.
“Sorry. Let me help.”
“I’ve got it.” He jabs the forks into the turkey. “They just needed to be in more.” His tense tone is surprising since the man thought we could give Martha Stewart a run for her money just minutes ago.
The turkey rises and crashes to the plate so hard I feared he cracked the gorgeous white platter. “The damn thing needs a fork lift. How big is this bird?” He yanks out the forks.
“Thanks.”
“OH NO!” Jade runs into the kitchen with Snowball in her arms. Lucy follows her like they’re playing a game.
“Jade, sweetie, not in here until after dinner, okay?” I say in a mothering tone I’m mimicking from seeing Victoria in action.
“Sorry,” she says, but I don’t notice the fear in her eyes until she’s out of the room.
“Hold up.” I walk out of the kitchen, Roarke following behind me.
“I told you nothing good would come of this. I’m all for animal love, babe, but two dogs and one cat?”
Snowball wiggles out of Jade’s arm and falls to the ground, hiding under the couch.
Nickel meows and claws while Snowball barks. Nickel runs, and Snowball gives chase down the hall.
“Pete, get your damn dog!” Victoria yells.
“I told you, he’s not mine.”
“You bought her a dog without ever asking us. He’s yours.” Reed pours a hefty amount of scotch into a glass.
“Fine. Come on Jade.” Pete follows the animals and emerges from the hallway a few minutes later with Snowball in his arms. “I locked your cat in the laundry room.”