It’s like my body knows.

But unlike last year, two bright blue eyes are staring at me when I finally peel open my own eyelids. “Happy morning, sunshine,” Tillie Jean whispers.

Hard not to smile back at that. “Somebody’s already had her coffee.”

“Nope. No coffee yet.”

My brows go up.

That’s unusual. “But you’re coherent.”

“Because it’s important.”

She has my full and undivided attention.

Tillie Jean coherent before coffee because of something important is cause for concern. I reach for her under the sheet and tug her close. “What’s up?”

“I need to know what you want to do today.”

“Why?”

“I know you hate holidays. So I want to do whatever will make you happy today.”

I frown. “You don’t want to do Shipwreck’s Thanksgiving?”

“Do you?” she counters. “If you want to be alone, that’s fine. Just tell me, and I’ll go. If you want to go, we can both go, but only if you want to go. I don’t want you to feel obligated. But if you want me to stay here with you and skip everything, I’m good with that too. I just need to know so I don’t drink coffee if I shouldn’t.”

“You love Thanksgiving.”

“Bah.” She wrinkles her nose. “I love every day in Shipwreck. If I miss anything, I’ll hear six versions of it by this time tomorrow. I am leading senior aerobics tomorrow morning before Nana and Mom and Dita head out for shopping in the city. I promised all the menfolk I’d wear them out so they can’t spend as much.”

This town.

I fucking love it. And when my contract’s up and TJ has her degree, the first thing we’re doing is moving right back here so I can help her get elected mayor and watch her take all the good she loves doing around here to the next level.

But I love Tillie Jean more than I love anything. “Never too late to replace shitty traditions with good ones.” I squeeze her ass. “Like starting holidays with dessert before breakfast.”

“Can you eat pie? That’s more sugar than I’ve seen you eat in the last year combined.”

I duck my head under the covers. “Not talking about pie, Trouble Jean.”

I find what I do want to eat for dessert before breakfast, and her breathy, “Ooooh, yes,” solidifies it.

Every Thanksgiving morning from here on out will start with me eating Tillie Jean’s pussy.

And then a nap.

And then sex in the shower.

And then both our phones start blowing up.

“We can go,” I tell her as she’s drying her hair.

“But do you want to?” she presses.

Do I?

I don’t know.

I do know she hasn’t had her coffee yet though, so I kiss her shoulder and head out to the kitchen, where I almost jump out of my skin. “Jesus, goats.”

“Rawk! Jesus goats are holy goats. Rawk!”

Goatstradamus and his two best pals don’t stop gnawing on the kitchen table. The back door is hanging wide open, and Long Beak Silver is perched on the kitchen faucet.

“Tillie Jean, I’m buying you a new lock, and there’s no arguing,” I call. I lure the goats out with half of the collard greens in the fridge, then lock the door and shove a chair under it.

I’m not getting her a new lock today.

“Rawk! Help! I’ve been kidnapped! Rawk!”

I stare at the bird. “That, I believe. You don’t sound like Long Beak Silver.”

“Rawk! Batten the hatches! Rawk!”

“He had remedial training.” Tillie Jean slips her arms around my waist from behind. “Did I forget to tell you, or were you tied up in that crazy West Coast trip?”

“I would never forget a single word you’ve ever told me. Clearly, this is on you.”

She snorts with laughter. “Uh-huh.”

And then she shuffles along behind me while I make my way to the coffee pot, her arms still linked around my waist.

She does this at least three times a week, and I love it.

“We really don’t have to leave the house today,” she says.

And I finally get suspicious.

I start her coffee, but then I unhook her hands, turn around, and grab her by the cheeks. “Matilda Jean Rock. What did you do?”

Her eyes dance, and her smile lights up the whole damn galaxy. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Yet?”

She winks.

I scrub a hand over my face.

On the one hand, if she’s thinking of doing what I think she’s thinking of doing—though I don’t have an exact what, merely a thematic idea—then yeah, Cooper deserves it and more.

The minute I got back to Florida for spring training with Tillie Jean in tow in February, he nodded, clapped me on the back, told me not to be a dick, and went back to being the Cooper he’d always been.

We still haven’t paid him back for the EGB.

That’s the Epic Glitter Bombing, and yes, it’s capitalized every time, because it’s not toppable.

Probably.

Maybe.

Tillie Jean has had some extra thinking time this year.

But on that other hand—Cooper’s had one hell of a year, and he could probably use a break.

Probably.

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

All’s fair in baseball, love, and prank wars.

“Tillie Jean?”

“What? I didn’t hire someone to dig up his driveway and replace it with plants to make it look like his house has disappeared. That would be too far.”

She makes air quotes around too far, and I’m suddenly choking on my own laughter. “Is this a regular reminder to not piss you off?”

“Max. I only give my best pranks to the men I love.”

“And are you trying to keep me here so you can prank me all day?”

“No, but I do have a Thanksgiving present for you. If you want it. I’m completely serious when I say you get to tell me what to do today. I don’t have to hang onto old traditions. I just want to hang onto you.”

“So let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Thanksgiving dinner. Show me your traditions. Can’t reject it if I don’t know what I’m missing.”

Her eyes light up even more. “Brilliant. And if anyone annoys you and you want to leave—”

“I’ll do my best Long Beak Silver impersonation and call them a fucking fucker.”

“Rawk! Profanity is for the weak! Rawk!”

“Okay, that’s seriously creepy,” I whisper.

“Apparently Nana kidnapped the bird and made him watch some annoying kid show on repeat until he cried uncle.”

“Huh. And I thought maybe she kidnapped him and made him hang out with Estevez for a day.”

She snorts with laughter as her coffee beeps. “Ooh, life juice!”

We chase Long Beak Silver out of the house too, and then I indulge in a cup with her—yeah, it’s hard to resist that smell—while we snuggle on the couch watching a few episodes of Ted Lasso again until it’s time for the Shipwreck festivities to begin.

Tillie Jean leaps off the couch. “But first—your Thanksgiving present.”