I watch the way she lets her guard down, and as soon as her gaze meets mine, she looks away, but not before I see the faint blush on her cheeks.

When we’re all stuffed to the max, I help clear the table. Kenzie and Maize rinse the dishes while Grayson helps Mila put the leftovers in containers. John and I break down the table to its normal size.

“Your house is beautiful, Mrs. Bishop. I love the modern décor. Much different than the B&B,” I tell her once everything’s clean.

“Thank you. We had fun decorating.” She smiles at me. “You want a tour of the house?”

I glance around and notice Maize’s reaction, and she tenses when Kenzie speaks up. “I’ll give you one, Gavin! Let’s start with my sister’s room.”

Maize elbows her in the ribs, and Kenzie dramatically coughs. “Shut up. I better do it, or you’ll be telling him all kinds of embarrassing childhood stories about me.”

With an unapologetic shrug, Kenzie smirks. “Well, duh.” She looks at her incredulously, which makes me wonder what they’re hiding.

With a sigh, Maize walks around me and tells me to follow her. I hear Kenzie chuckle, then she tells Grayson off, which makes me smile. These Bishop sisters don’t make anything easy.

“You already saw the dining room and entryway…” She waves a hand to the left as we walk down the hallway. “The living room is here, though we don’t get a lot of time to hang out or watch TV. Most of us are usually working or sleeping.”

“Looks cozy, though,” I say, shoving my hands in my front pockets so I don’t do something stupid like reach out and touch her.

She takes me through the rest of the lower level, then we go upstairs, and she points out her parents’ and Kenzie’s room.

“Mine’s at the end of the hallway.”

I silently follow her, not taking a second alone with her for granted. This is the most she’s talked to me since I moved to the ranch.

“It’s very you,” I admit after she opens her door and allows me to peek inside. Three walls are a neutral tan color, and one is a bright teal. Pictures of her and Kenzie on the ranch are framed and hung on the walls along with dreamcatchers. A white comforter is neatly spread across her bed, and fuzzy teal pillows are stacked high.

“You don’t even know me,” she states.

I study her. “I know enough.”

She swallows hard with her eyes locked on mine, but too quickly, she lowers her gaze and breaks our contact.

“It’s embarrassing to live with my parents at my age,” she blurts out. “I just turned twenty-five and still sleep in my childhood bed.” Maize groans, then shrugs. “But until they can marry me off, I’ll stay here.”