“You bet.”
“Dalton told me you were dating Cal when Mark was hurt.” Riley lifted her brow, curious how her friend would respond.
Yvette matched her expression. “Is that a question?” She shook her head, smiling. “Okay. Yes. We had only just started dating. And it was . . .” Her eyes got a soft, faraway look. “It was nice. But then Mark had his accident, and Jay was killed . . . and Mark hadn’t even known we’d gone out—he’d been living his own life in Wenatchee. We both knew it just wasn’t our time. Cal had lost a good part of the orchard, and Mark needed his dad twenty-four-seven.” She blinked and refocused. “So that was that.”
“And now,” Riley said, “Cal has asked you to Thanksgiving.” Her brow rose.
“Oh, don’t you go there. This is a last-minute thing. That’s all.”
Riley placed her hands over her heart and batted her lashes.
Yvette put her fists on her hips. “Is that how you want to play? Because we can have an interesting time tomorrow, Miss ‘Mark is a decent human being.’ Puh-lease.”
Riley’s shoulders sagged in good-natured defeat. “Fine. I take it all back.” She watched as a mischievous smile grew on her friend’s face. “And I’ll help you grade tests and I’ll wash your windows and I’ll shovel your driveway if you will please not tease me or Mark about anything tomorrow.” She clasped her hands together, begging. “I won’t mention you and Cal again. Unless you want me to.”
Yvette leaned forward, her eyes dancing. “Lucky for you I believe things work themselves out. As should you. Now, I’ve got pie and rolls to make. I will see you tomorrow, Smee.”
Riley saluted as Yvette sauntered away. “Aye, Cap’n.”
Mark watched Riley across the dining room table. She laughed, holding her stomach like she would bust if she laughed any more. He didn’t blame her. He was as full as he could get. The food had turned out great, and his dad and Yvette had taken the spotlight off whatever was or wasn’t happening between him and Riley.
She caught him looking, and he glanced away. His dad was shaking his head, grinning at an old story he’d told a dozen times.
“You remember that, Mark?” Dad asked.
“Gets better every time you tell it.”
Riley stood and started clearing dishes.
“Hold on there, Riley,” his dad said. “I’ve got dish duty. Mark and you ladies did the cooking.”
Riley put a hand on her hip. “Well, then get in there to the sink, and we’ll get the dishes to you.”
His chivalrous father didn’t even argue. “I like how this one thinks,” he said, and hoisted himself up, grabbed some dishes, and left for the kitchen.
Mark and Yvette stood and the three of them began clearing plates and bowls of food.
Yvette gathered goblets. “The turkey was delicious, Mark.”
“Thanks. Usually Steph handles the turkey.”
“It was as good as any I ever made. Be proud.”
His hand brushed against Riley’s as they both reached for an empty bowl, and between Yvette’s compliment and the touch of Riley’s hand, his face warmed.
“Sorry,” he said, letting her take the bowl.
“Don’t be,” Riley said. “And she’s right, the turkey was fantastic.”
He nodded his thanks.
He hadn’t seen her for days. Long days. She’d curled her hair, and her dark red sweater, tight black jeans, and those black boots he liked had made it hard to take his eyes off her since she’d arrived. And she smelled like heaven. Even more so with the delicious aromas still hanging in the air.
He watched her walk into the kitchen. Yvette gave him a nudge, and he followed with his armload.
Riley had set the dishes down on the counter next to the sink, where his dad had hot sudsy water ready and the dishwasher open. He was already scraping plates.
“I can’t wait to try your pies, Yvette,” Riley said. “The banana cream looks amazing.” She stepped back and groaned, hands pressed to her middle. “Well, maybe I can wait.”
Yvette laughed. “I haven’t eaten like this in a long time. It’s different when you’re alone, that’s for sure.” She turned as Mark set his dishes down. “What about you? You don’t seem to be in any discomfort.”
“Oh, I had plenty. I can barely move.” He headed back into the dining room to pick up another load. Being so close to Riley all day had heightened all his senses until he thought his nerves might catch fire.
“You just carry it better than the rest of us, is that it?” Riley followed and reached past him for the bowl of mashed potatoes while he collected the last of the silverware.
She was close. He breathed deeply and shook his head. “Man, you smell good.” The words were out before he knew it. “Sorry. Didn’t mean that.”
“I don’t smell good?”
His face grew warmer.
She flipped her hair behind her and looked up at him. “It’s the turkey.”
He stepped back to give her space. To give him space. “The house smells like turkey. You don’t smell like the house.”
“You say the sweetest things,” she said, smiling.
He shook his head, fighting his own smile.
“So, are we talking now?” she asked.
He glanced over the table, empty but for a few crumbs. “What do you mean?”
“I haven’t heard from you for a while. I guess after spending all that time together last week, I got used to having you around.”
He nodded, squashing the hope that rose inside him. “Missed me, huh?”
“Mark.”
He met her gaze.
“You haven’t spoken to me since I got here.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Look,” he said, stepping around her, “I’m just playing by your rules, okay?”
She followed him back into the kitchen. “What rules?”
“You know.”
Yvette and his dad quit their conversation as they entered.
Riley switched tracks. She took a deep breath. “So, do you have any fun Thanksgiving traditions? Besides eating yourselves into oblivion?” She grabbed a dishcloth from the soapy water and started wiping down counters.
“We always had a football game on at our place,” Yvette offered.
