Page 28 of Stuff My Turkey
"Morning, all!" Earl boomed. "Ready for the run? Dottie and I do this every year back home in Amarillo."
Dottie adjusted her pearl earrings—somehow still present despite her athletic wear. "Where's your girl, Heath? Not much of a morning person?"
"She'll be out in a minute," I said, pouring them coffee and biting back what I really wanted to say.
When Honey finally emerged, she wore leggings and a long-sleeve running top. Her eyes widened at the sight of everyone in their coordinated race attire.
"Oh," she said, glancing down at her outfit. "I didn't realize this was so... formal."
"Don't worry, sweetie!" Bitsy thrust the gift bag at her. "We got you covered!"
Honey peered inside, her face transforming from confusion to horror to forced gratitude in three seconds flat. "Wow. That's... so thoughtful."
"Go try it on!" Bitsy urged.
With a look that silently begged for rescue, Honey retreated to change. When she returned, I nearly choked on my coffee.
She wore tight red leggings, a white long-sleeved top with "Team McGraw" emblazoned across the chest, and a foam turkey hat complete with drumsticks that bobbed when she moved. The outfit matched Knox and Bitsy's perfectly, right down to the little turkey face on the back of the pants.
"You look..." I started, not sure how to finish.
"Festive," she supplied through gritted teeth.
"The feathered monstrosity is slipping," I said, stepping closer to adjust it. It gave me an excuse to approach her, to bridge the gap between us, if only physically. My fingers brushed her hair as I settled the turkey-shaped nightmare more securely. "There."
"Thanks," she murmured, her eyes meeting mine briefly before looking away.
"Perfect!" Bitsy clapped her hands. "Now we're all coordinated for the race!"
"Like one big happy family," Knox added, slinging an arm around Bitsy's shoulders. "Well, except for my stubborn brother, the party-pooper, who refused to wear his. The turkey hat would've really brought out your eyes, bro."
Honey's eyes darkened at the phrase, and I wanted to tell her that's not what we were—not what I wanted. That what I felt for her had nothing to do with my brother or some manufactured family image. But the words stuck in my throat like a pecan shell.
Instead, I just nodded toward the door. "We should head into town. Parking gets crazy."
We took two vehicles—Knox's BMW and my truck. Honey slid into the passenger seat beside me without comment. As we pulled onto the main road, the silence between us grew thick as winter molasses.
"That poultry-themed accessory on your head is something else," I finally said, hoping to break the tension.
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "It's a crime against fashion and possibly several state laws."
"Might violate the Geneva Convention," I agreed.
Her smile widened slightly before fading. Progress, at least.
"Heath, about yesterday—"
"We should focus on getting through today," I interrupted, not ready to have that conversation. Not yet. "Buck's been sniffing around too much. I don't trust him."
She sighed and looked out the window. "Right. The deal comes first."
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, wanting to correct her but not knowing how.
Downtown Bitter Root had transformed overnight. Hay bales painted like turkeys lined Main Street. A large "GOBBLE WOBBLE" banner stretched across the starting line. Half the town milled around in various turkey-themed costumes, breath fogging in the crisp November air. May Tidwell was snapping photos for her blog, while Laverne had set up a booth offering "race recovery" beauty treatments.
I parked behind the Hungry Heifer, and we made our way toward the starting area. The smell of cinnamon and pumpkin wafted from the bakery, mixing with the earthy scent of fallen leaves. Knox and Bitsy were already taking selfies by the banner, while the Vickerys chatted with other participants.
"McGraw!" A familiar voice called from behind us.
