Page 227 of Vegas Heat

And maybe someday shewillbecome like a sister to me—a sister-in-law. It’s a strange thought to have as I shove another forkful of lemon chicken in my mouth beside my father who is still oblivious to everything.

“How’s your brother doing, Cooper?” my dad asks.

“It’s been two months since his heart attack and from what he said, he’s doing great. Seems like it was a wake-up call and he’s been avoiding salt ever since. Marissa tells me he hasn’t backed off work much, though. Still vying for partner.” He shrugs as he says it.

Joanie purses her lips and inclines her head toward my father. “Sounds like this one. You can avoid salt all you want, but the stress of the job isn’t going to go away.”

My dad barely refrains from rolling his eyes as he blows out a breath. “I know, I know. And I’m taking it easy as promised.”

“Yeah, but for how long?” I ask pointedly.

“I’m not giving up my career because of this,” he says. “It’s one setback. I’m fixed now. I’ve got a lot of years ahead of me.”

“You better,” I say, reaching over and squeezing his forearm. “I just found you. I’m not losing you anytime soon.”

He grabs my hand and squeezes it, and Ruby Sue breaks the tension in the room by setting a paw on top of our joined hands.

Cooper leaves after dinner, citing house preparations as his reason since his family is arriving tomorrow. He has spare bedrooms to check and grocery lists to make.

“Need any help?” I ask, and he nods.

“If you don’t mind, I could definitely use some help with the meal planning for Thursday.”

“It’s Monday, Coop. You haven’t planned your Thanksgiving dinner yet?” my dad asks.

He shrugs. “Been busy picking up all the slack at the stadium. I could use some help with putting the guest rooms together, too. I have clean sheets but none of the beds are made.”

My dad narrows his eyes at Cooper, and I giggle.

“Good thing you ran into me, then. Let’s head over to your place,” I suggest.

We leave shortly after that, my dad none the wiser to our real intentions this evening.

Or at leastmyintentions.

He really does need help with the meal planning. “So…I have no idea how to make a turkey,” he begins as we drive together over to his place. “I was thinking about those meals grocery stores and restaurants offer where you just pay per person and get everything you could ever want.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah, but that’s no fun.”

“You know how to make a turkey?” he asks.

I laugh. “Uh…no. But I have this funny little rectangle thing that I can fit in the palm of my hand that will tell me how.”

He thins his lips as he gives me a look, and I laugh again.

“YouTube, baby. It has all the answers.” I shrug.

“You want toYouTubea Thanksgiving dinner when neither of us have any idea how to cook a turkey?” he asks, total disbelief evident in his voice.

“I think it could be fun,” I admit.

“Okay, so we make a turkey together. What else?”

“What are the other traditional sides?” I start numbering them off on my fingers. “Stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits, cranberry sauce…”

“Sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, macaroni and cheese casserole,” he adds.

I glance over at him. “You’re really into casseroles.”

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