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“I’m glad you and I could have this talk,” Bettina said. “I want to know what your intentions are with my daughter.”

He was not going to last through Thanksgiving like this. He got to his feet, raised his beer bottle, hitting it a few times, then telling everyone to shut the fuck up. Everyone turned toward him, and he smiled at each of them.

“First of all, Betty is my woman, so Misty, move your ass. Take your plate, and Betty, get your ass over here right freaking now.”

He saw Betty’s face had gone a bright red. Several of the guys gave a whistle, and a few of the women hooted their approval. Betty grabbed her plate and was able to move. Misty wasn’t happy and she grumbled, but Mac made sure she moved quickly and without complaint. He had a feeling she complained, but Grim didn’t have to hear it.

Betty sat beside him.

“It’s another Thanksgiving, and we’re all together. It has been one heck of a year, but we’re all here.” He held his beer up. “And I guess I want to start the thank yous and grateful speech, by being thankful for the club. For my woman. For this food, and for the future, because it looks like it is going to be a great one.”

Betty smiled up at him and lifted her drink.

His speech started, and everyone took their turn, and when Nitro was saying he was thankful for pussy, sex, and condoms, it was time to eat.

****

The food was nearly all gone. The pies, cakes, and puddings had been demolished. Lots of beer, wine, and spirits had also been consumed. It had been a full-on party, and Betty was clearing the dishes.

“You shouldn’t have to do that,” Grim said, coming into the kitchen.

“It’s okay. I am happy to do it.”

“You cooked and you’ve been in here for days.” He grabbed her around the waist. “I’ll get everyone to help out.” And that is exactly what he did. Some of the guys were not used to cleaning up their own messes, but the kitchen and dining room were in chaos, and then, slowly, it was cleaned. Betty didn’t have to do it all herself. She instead got to bag up the leftovers, which were not a lot. She absolutely loved cooking for a crowd.

It had been an amazing Thanksgiving, and it had gone better than she anticipated. With her mother sitting on the other side of Grim, there hadn’t been any cold words or terrible comments directed her way. It had been peaceful, and possibly one of the best Thanksgivings she had ever spent with her mother.

She’d been absolutely dreading Thanksgiving. When it came time to hand out the dessert, even as her mother made the nasty comment of the calories and the damage it would do to the waistline, everyone told her to shut the fuck up. The guys actually booed her and then said there would be no more for her. Her mother had never gotten such a nasty response before. It was refreshing. It resulted in her mother staying silent for the remainder of the meal.

“You know, I think I should kick these assholes out, and then you and I go upstairs,” Grim said.

Betty laughed. “And what? Collapse on the bed, rubbing our stomachs?”

“I could rub yours if you want to rub mine.”

She laughed. “You’re so cute,” she said.

Grim held onto her waist. “Actually, there is something I want to say to you, and I don’t want anyone to be here.”

He grabbed her hand and Betty complained because there was no way they should leave while everyone was cleaning up. However, he grabbed his leather cut, slid it over her shoulders, and they stepped out into the icy night. It was so cold, even his leather cut couldn’t keep the chill away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “But I don’t want an audience when I tell you this, and I want it to just be you and me.”

Betty stared into Grim’s eyes, and from the moment he had come to rescue her, to this point, she knew she had fallen in love with him. It was crazy how strong her feelings for him were, and at times, how scary. She’d never been attached to anyone, or cared for a man. She’d been a virgin through choice, and other than her Aunt Martha, everyone else had let her down. Grim had not.

Against all odds, when there was only darkness, he was the one who came to help her. He was the only one willing to stand up for her, and it meant the world to her. Betty wanted to tell him how she felt. She wanted to scream it from the rooftops, but therein lie the problem. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if she destroyed something good between them, because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut?

Was there supposed to be an appropriate time to tell someone you loved them? What was she supposed to say? How long was it supposed to go on?

They stood out in the cold and Betty wanted to tell him she loved him, and yet she looked at him, waited, and then merely forced a smile to her lips.

“What is it?” she asked. “Should I be nervous? Are you going to tell me you hate mashed potatoes?” She tried to make light of it. “That could be a real game changer, you know? Not liking mashed potatoes, I mean, what kind of person are you?” She tried to force a laugh, and he chuckled.

“What kind of person am I?” he said. “This is not about mashed potatoes, or sweet potato casserole, or even green bean casserole, which I still hate. Even yours, I don’t like it.”

Betty burst out laughing. “That’s a game changer.”

“Betty, you’re really important to me, and the last few weeks, months, with you, have been incredible. I’ve never—”