“I’m worried about that with Roxie.” She pinched her thumb and pointer finger together. “There’s a small chance I might have spoiled her rotten, and she can’t stand to be restrained or restricted in any way.”
“If you notice her trying to get to the wound even with the cone on, try pulling a tube sock over her leg. Take my word for it when I say it’s a miracle worker.”
“Really? I’ll have to keep that in mind.” She pulled several utensils out of a drawer and put them in the boxes of food. “How’s Fifi?”
“Fifi is Fifi, enough said.” He cast her a wink before loading his plate with food. “My parents will be back for her in two days.”
“I’m sure you’ll be relieved.”
“Can you keep a secret?”
Her eyes twinkled. “I already know.”
He tilted his head. “What?”
“You like the cat.”
“I confess, it’s true.” He blew out an exaggerated sigh. “The furball weaseled her way into my heart.”
“Maybe you should get a cat of your own.” She dug into the Mongolian beef and lo mein, then added two squares of shrimp toast to her plate.
He’d forgotten he’d added that at the last minute. “No cats for me. When I decide to adopt another animal, it will be a dog.”
“Are you thinking about adoption?”
“Not right now, but I would like another dog one day. Losing Chance took a lot out of me.”
“I understand. Roxie’s going to live forever, though, so I don’t have to worry about it.” Her subtle wink let him know she was kidding.
Too bad animals couldn’t live forever.
Out of nowhere, his mouth dried. “Do you have anything to drink? I should have thought to bring something.”
“There’s tea in the fridge. It’s unsweetened, but there’s a bowl of sugar on the counter.”
“I’m not picky.” He opened the door and reached inside while Rachel brought two cups down from the cabinet.
“Do you mind eating on the sofa and not at the table?” An embarrassed smile pulled at the tight line of her lips. “I want to stay by Roxie.”
He shook his head and smirked. “I rarely eat at the table anyway.”
“It’s a lost art.” She carried her plate and drink to the living room. “My aunt always had an elaborate table setting with each part of the meal served in hand-painted ceramic bowls. Dinner was an event at her house.”
“I’ll admit, I’m probably too casual most of the time, but I do enjoy sitting around the table with family.” He set his food on an end table and sat down. “That’s my favorite part of Thanksgiving. It’s not the meal in and of itself, but the togetherness.”
“I haven’t been home for Thanksgiving since I moved.” A frown surfaced but disappeared in a heartbeat. “I made the choice to move here, though, so I can’t be upset.”
“Was it hard leaving your family?” Balancing his plate in one hand, he stabbed a bite of broccoli. When he bit into it, the vegetable had the perfect crunch—soaked with the brown sauce but not soggy.
“Extremely.” She’d yet to pick her plate up from the end table on her side, and she wrung her hands. “Until I crossed the state line into Nevada, I wasn’t sure I’d go through with it, but driving from one end of the country to the other gave me lots of time to pray.”
“I’d say.”
“I didn’t accept the job until I’d prayed and had peace about it, but actually leaving was a different story.” Finally, she reached for her plate and started with her shrimp toast. “Is all your family from here?”
He nodded while he finished chewing. “Our roots can be traced to colonial days on my mom’s side.”
“That’s incredible. What about on your dad’s?”
