Way more stubborn than most of the wild horses I’ve trained.
I try not to let it bother me, but every time I see her, memories of her soft skin pressed against mine flash through my head. It’s damn near impossible not to think about when she’s around. I could understand if she was embarrassed or even regretted being with me, but why lie? I’m determined to find out, even if it takes me years.
Now it’s the day before Thanksgiving, and all the Bishops are working double-time to finish their chores so they can eat and be with their families tomorrow. Luckily, I don’t have as much to do—the stalls are shoveled, food and water stocked, and the tack rooms organized. Though I’ve been working with Cooper, he went to visit family in Alabama this week, so I just have to worry about the horses.
“Gavin! Wait up,” Grayson shouts as I walk toward the B&B.
“What’s up, man?” I’m already on the porch, reaching for the door.
“You got holiday plans?” he asks.
“Not really. I’ll call my parents and work out after I feed the horses, but that’s it. Why?”
“John and Mila invited me to eat at their house. You should come,” he says as we walk inside.
“Not sure that’s a good idea. Maize hates me enough as it is.”
He shrugs. “So? Kenzie wants to murder me, and I’ve been invited for the past three years. We shoot daggers at each other, then eat pie.”
I snort, heading toward the buffet. I’m starving, and the turkey potpie Maize made for lunch smells delicious.
“You don’t think John and Mila would mind an extra person?”
“Nah, they told me to invite you too. Everyone eats with their families, then we show up here for dessert.”
I like the idea of seeing Maize outside of the B&B, where she can’t disappear or make excuses for why she can’t stick around. She’ll have to play nice in front of her parents.
“Alright, I’ll go.”
I load a plate, and Grayson fills his too. “Cool, I’ll let Mila know to add a chair for ya. But get ready to nap for three hours after.”
Chuckling, I find a table and take a seat. I look around, wondering where Maize is today because she’s usually in the dining area during the rush.
“She’s in the kitchen,” Grayson tells me without asking. I blink and furrow my brows. “Maize. She’s prepping all the desserts for tomorrow. Kenzie’s helping with dishes while Sandra and Jane refill the buffet and prep for dinner.”
I skipped breakfast and opted for a protein shake, so I didn’t get to see her this morning. “So I assume you ran into Kenzie then?”
She’s been away at college and came home a couple of days ago.
“Like an asteroid.”
Laughing, I shake my head and dig into the best potpie I’ve ever had.
“So, tell me the truth about you and Maize. There’s way too much…” He waves around his fork. “Sexual tension. Did you two meet before or something?”
I keep my head down and focus on my food.
“Dude, that’s a yes.” He points at me.
“That’s a ‘mind your own damn business.’”
He scoffs and acts offended. The kid is ten years younger than me, and I don’t have the energy to gossip like a teenager.
“I knew it.” He beams, and I roll my eyes.
“Kenzie’s hated me since the first day we met, and I honestly have no idea what her problem is.”
“You ever thought about askin’ her?”
“I have a million times, but she’s determined to bust my balls.” He shakes his head, swallowing down his food. “She tells me to ‘fuck off,’ ‘eat shit,’and—my personal favorite—‘go to hell, jackass.’ I’m convinced she’s confused me with someone else because I didn’t do a damn thing to her.”
That seems suspicious, and I halfway wonder if they slept together, and he doesn’t remember her. It’s not out of the realm of possibilities, considering Maize claims she doesn’t. Except I think Grayson’s being genuine, which makes it worse.
So I ask him. “Any chance you two hooked up, but when you officially met at the ranch, you didn’t recognize her?”
“Not possible. I’d remember Kenzie.”
“You sure about that?” I challenge, finishing the last of my food.
Grayson wrinkles his face. “About eighty percent.”
I chuckle. “Or maybe you did something else to her? Ran over her dog, called her fat, fucked her best friend?”
“Jesus,” he mutters, laughing. “I mean, I don’t think so. But I wish she’d tell me already.”
“Well…” I stand, grabbing my empty plate. “Good luck with that.”
“Ha, thanks.” He follows as we put up our dirty dishes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Lunch is at one.”
“I’ll be there.”
We walk toward the front door and wave to a few guests on the way.
“Oh, and dress nice,” he warns me. “Everyone’s expected to be in their Sunday best.”
“Seriously? Alright.”
“Yep. Slacks, button-up, nice shoes.”
“I’ll see what I can do. See ya later, man,” I say, then we go our separate ways.
After digging through my closet, I finally find something “nice” to wear. I can’t remember the last time I dressed up, but I have a couple of pairs of black slacks and a few button-up shirts.
Once I’ve showered and dressed, I grab the flowers I bought from the grocery store yesterday and head to my truck. I arrive at John and Mila’s at the same time as Grayson, and we walk to the front door together.
“Lookin’ pretty sharp,” he taunts as he knocks on the wood.
“I know how to clean up when I have to.”
Grayson looks at the flowers. “Those for Maize?”
I grin. “Nope.”
Mila answers with a smile and moves to the side to let us in. “Hey, boys. Glad y’all came.”
“Thank you for the invite,” I tell her, handing over the bouquet. “These are for you, Mrs. Bishop.”
“Oh, Gavin. You didn’t have to do that.” She sniffs them and smiles wide. “They smell lovely, thank you.”
“Of course.”
Grayson and I follow her to the kitchen, and I immediately smirk when I see Maize’s expression go from happy to annoyed. By her reaction, she didn’t know I was coming.
“Maize, can you find me a vase, please? Gavin was so sweet to bring these for me,” Mila asks, setting them down on the counter.
Maize studies me, and replies, “Sure, Mom.”
“John’s just finishing up some paperwork at the B&B and will be home any minute. Then we can dive right in,” Mila explains.
“Where’s Kenzie?” Grayson asks.
“Actively avoiding you.” Maize snorts, carrying a crystal vase. “Wish I could say I was doing the same.” She glares at me.
Grayson puts a hand on his chest over his heart. “You mean she hasn’t missed me? I’m hurt.”
I chuckle at his sarcastic tone, knowing damn well he wishes she would miss him. I’d almost feel bad for him if I wasn’t dealing with my own Bishop woman issues.