“Whatcha cookin’?” I ask, taking a few steps forward.

“Seafood gumbo,” she tells me.

“Oh, I love shrimp!” I admit.

“Don’t be shy. Come see. Gavin told me you were a highly regarded, award-winning chef,” she adds.

This makes me laugh. “He’s just being kind.”

Gavin’s mouth falls open. “No, I’m not. She won first place at the rodeo’s barbecue contest.”

His mom turns and looks at me. “Honey, that’s not easy to do. Some people travel around the state and enter those competitions just for the prize money. Now, I want barbecue.”

A blush hits my cheeks. “Thank you. I didn’t think I’d win because of that, but the brisket spoke for itself. Gavin gave me the confidence I needed to continue because I was hesitant about entering.”

With a quick turn of her head, she glances over at him leaning against the counter. “That’s my boy. He’s good at encouraging people to follow their dreams. Now, come and have a taste of this homemade roux.”

Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, she dips it inside the giant stockpot and hands it over. I blow on it for a second, then sip it up. My mouth explodes with the different spices. With wide eyes, I can’t seem to speak fast enough. “That’s the best I’ve ever had.”

“Really? It’s a family recipe, top secret. Once you and Gavin get married, I’ll have to share it with you.”

Gavin moves forward. “Don’t say the m-word, Mom. Kinda freaks her out.”

“Hardy har har. It does not. Okay, well maybe a little,” I admit. “But when you know you’ve found the one, why does it matter?”

“Is Maize Bishop turning a new leaf?” he asks, just as the back door opens and shuts.

Moments later, Gavin’s dad waltzes in wearing a grin. Gavin’s the spitting image of his father, and if he ages just as well, I’m in for a treat. He’s tall and handsome with slivers of gray in his hair. “Oh, you must be Maize, the woman my son has fallen head over heels with,” he announces, walking forward and hugging me.

“I already warned her about us being huggers,” Rose tells him with a chuckle.

“I’m Wyatt. Welcome to the family,” he says with a huge grin.

“Thank you!”

When his parents aren’t looking, Gavin gives me a thumbs-up.

His dad grabs a cup of ice water and chugs it. “Horses are fed, and I’m starving. Smells so good.” When it’s empty, he refills it before sitting at the table.

Gavin pulls bowls from the cabinet and sets them next to the stove.

Feeling out of place, I turn and ask, “Is there something I can help with?”

He gives me a wink. “Nope. You’re the guest of honor. Let someone else cook for you for once.”