“What do you say, T? Let’s sneak up to our bedroom, and lock the door behind us,” Bette continued, in mock-conspiratorial tones.  “Everybody here knows where the drinks and food are, anyway right?”

Tina chuckled at the audacious suggestion, eyes shut as Bette continued to plant soft kisses on her neck.
She was about to respond to Bette when she heard Logan’s teasing voice.

“Are you girls plotting a get-away?,” he asked, from somewhere behind Bette.

He smirked at the look Bette shot him.

“Oh…sorry about that, Bette! Did I interrupt something?,” he asked in sham innocence.

Tina sighed.   Logan.  He was like a puppy…always turning up when you least expected (or wanted) him to.  But he was endearing.  And, sadly, alone after his and Melanie’s divorce was finalized a few weeks ago.

Clutching Bette’s arms to keep them around her, Tina maneuvered her body around in order to face her brother.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Logan,” she greeted him warmly, offering her cheek as he bent to kiss her.  He smirked as he tiptoed over her, to similarly kiss Bette’s cheek, whose lips were still pursed, pretending to frown at him.

“What a crowd you girls have here, huh?!,” he exclaimed as he turned, looking around the crowded kitchen area.

He took a big step to go around Tina, and to stand next to Bette.  His driver had followed him into the kitchen, carrying a large box that was covered with tin foil.

The women looked at him, expectantly.  What was in the box?

He drew Bette to a side-hug. “Brought a turkey,” he said simply.  He signaled to the driver to ask him to bring the box to Lara, who was busy giving quick instructions to Dana, Shane, and Alice, as the trio stood around the the red-head, eyeing platters of side dishes that Lara had pulled out of the two ovens in Bette and Tina’s kitchen unit.

“Now…now..don’t worry,” Logan said as Bette and Tina opened their mouths to speak simultaneously, “I called Lara last week, and she said it would be alright if I brought the turkey, as this would free up the ovens for her, so that she could prepare the side dishes.”

“So, my cook prepped the turkey last night, and came by to help me pop it in the oven really, really early this morning.  I think it cooked for at least 8 hours, I’m not kidding.  The cook gave me the baster, and some instructions.  Hours later, voila!  Your thanksgiving turkey,” he announced, waving his hand in the direction of the turkey, which Lara was now inspecting.