A high-pitched moo came from the angled roof enclosure, and I turned to eye the Highland calf warily. "Do not attack me, Alice." Alice was awfully spicy for a rescue who had been on thecusp of death when I'd found her. It wasn't that she didn't like me—of courseshe liked me—but she also didn'tnotdislike me…
That was why I was sitting on the hard-packed, frozen ground on Thanksgiving morning like a lunatic. Alice had joined the family only five days before, and her mistrust of my existence had to be resolved. So, every morning, I came out here and sat in a clean spot of the paddock we had built behind our apartment building, and I tried to look as non-threatening as possible while Alice became acquainted with my presence.
Highland cow babies were scrumptiously adorable, and after I'd gotten in touch with a local farm animal rescue to help me with getting Pumpkin settled, they had stayed in touch. They had sensed a bleeding heart. And here I was with my second farm animal rescue in two months. Once they'd sent me a picture of Alice with her long, fluffy coat, enormous, long-lashed eyes, and malnourished body, I simply had to help her. What kind of monster would do anything less?
Alice wasn't in the mood today, though. I'd kept Mini out of the paddock while Alice adjusted, but the calf remained skittish and a touch aggressive. She exited the wood and aluminum enclosure, mooing her irritation. I held up my hands. "I'm not even moving, baby."
"Merrrrrr,"she yelled.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel just behind me, and I felt Knox's presence before he spoke. "I don't like this." He had leaned against the fence where I had my back resting, and he tugged on the hood of my winter coat. "She's going to trample you."
"Nonsense," I demurred. "Alice likes me. Don't you, baby?"
Alice snorted and lowered her head threateningly.
"Alright." Knox shifted his hold to my shoulders and yanked on the coat, lifting me bodily from the ground. "Listen, you invited all these people over. They're showing up. Help me."
I stumbled, finding my footing and rounding on him indignantly. "You're just trying to con me into leaving."
"Yes," he said with a heart-melting half-smile. "Is it working?" Knox was wearing his winter coat, but I could see the maroon polo he had underneath, and it made his eyes look like a winter frost. I wanted to eat him.
Resisting my attraction to his obnoxiously handsome person, I folded my arms. "No." Knox gave me his equivalent of puppy dog eyes, raising his eyebrows and tilting his gaze my way. My defenses crumbled like the walls of Jericho. "Oh, fine."
Grinning, Knox unlatched the gate and gestured me through it. "Ara just got here. We need to get in there and buffer between her and Spencer or there might be blood."
"Those two," I shook my head. "You'd think they were warring factions in another life."
"Or this one," Knox muttered out of the side of his mouth. We walked hand-in-hand away from the half-acre fenced area and back to the brick building we called home. Knox had bought it literal days after my ordeal with Dain, and I hadn't heard the entirety of his conversation with his parents, but what I had caught after coming home from work that day had nearly given me an asthma attack. And I didn't have asthma.
He had been so furious. Not even almost-beat-a-guy-to-death Knox had been that livid. After he had verbally eviscerated them, they sent over a realtor with a generous offer the next day.
So, now it was ours. We'd let David stay in his apartment downstairs—he'd been gutted at the prospect of losing the gym—and he hadn't protested turning part of the property into a ranchette.
When we returned to the apartment, I found Arabella giving Mini vigorous belly rubs, and Spencer had raided our cabinets and opened a can of black olives. He popped one in his mouth with a banal smile as I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Hey, Gemma. Thanks for having me." His top knot looked a little neater than usual, and as always, he kept the bottom well-trimmed and faded expertly down to his neck. He had put on a ridiculous Thanksgiving-patterned button-down shirt that made me think he was the male version of Miss Frizzle from the Magic School Bus.
"Yeah, why is he here again?" Knox asked, gesturing to his best friend with a salty glower.
"He's lonely," I whispered loudly, frowning. "Be nice."
"Yeah, I'm lonely," Spencer said, winking at Arabella.
She sighed in disgust. "Repulsive."
Spencer chuckled darkly and pushed another olive between his lips. I pointed to him. "Do not harass my guests."
"I'm a guest," he replied with an offended hand to his chest. "And anyway, she doesn’t mind. The Arabella I know would tell us otherwise." Arabella gave him the middle finger before getting up and dusting off her knees.
She was dressed in the way I'd come to realize was her actual norm. She wore sturdy jeans, a faded T-shirt, and work boots that looked two years past their prime. "I'm going to go play with your animals," she stated. “And I’m sorry I can’t stay long, but I have to get over to Mom’s house.”
I felt genuine sympathy for Arabella. Knox had tried to address whatever was going on with his parents and Arabella, but they had shut him down immediately. Whatever Sylvia and Arabella had going on, it had Ara in a noose, and I didn't like it.
She left, and I scooted past Spencer to check on the casseroles we had in the oven. They were almost done, thankfully. Not that I'd made them—we ordered everything because I wasn't exactly a domestic goddess. But it had been my idea to invite people over to our place for Thanksgiving. It felt like the right thing to do after buying the house, like a housewarming party to solidify that this really wasourhome.
And I had no doubt that it was a forever home with Knox. We hadn't said it, yet, but the promise hovered over us every night. It danced between our lips before a kiss and wrapped around our bodies when we made love. Knox was mine and I was his. I loved him… I just hadn't told him.
The next person to arrive was Emma, and she immediately gave me a hug that reminded me why we were friends. She really did know me, even though we hadn't talked for more than two months, and her crazy ex had pretended to be her. As she pulled away, she held up a bag of premade dinner rolls. "I do not bake."
