They’d been married for over thirty years. They still looked at each other like the rest of the room had disappeared.
Lincoln didn’t understand it. But standing there in the doorway, watching them, he thought maybe—just maybe—he was beginning to.
“Lincoln!”
Aunt Charlie materialized at his elbow, her face a study in focused determination. “Good, you’re back. I need you at the dessert table.” She gestured toward a long table against the far wall, currently empty but clearly designated for the after-dinner sweets. “People are going to start bringing things out soon, and you know how that goes. No organization. No system. Just chaos.”
“You want me to organize it.”
“You’re so good at that sort of thing.”
Lincoln looked at the table. Clear parameters. Measurable outcomes. A problem he could actually solve.
“I’ll handle it.”
Charlie patted his arm. “Knew I could count on you.”
She disappeared back into the crowd, and Lincoln made his way to the dessert table.
Behind him, the party continued. Forty people who loved him. Chaos and noise and the particular warmth of being known, even when he didn’t quite fit.
And tomorrow, 9 PM, Mercury would be there.
Like clockwork. Like postal workers.
Like something he was only beginning to let himself name.
?*
* Books from characters in this chapter:
Lincoln Bollinger (& Mercury) – HERO’S TOUCH
Charlie Bollinger – EAGLE
Callum & Sloane – HERO’S HEART
Chapter 2
The Secret Ingredient
Joy Davis
(Engaged to Bear Bollinger)
Joy pressed her palm flat against her stomach before she could stop herself.
She dropped her hand immediately, glancing around the main room at Linear Tactical to see if anyone had noticed. They hadn’t. The Christmas Adam gathering was in full chaos mode, and nobody was paying attention to her nervous habits.
Eight weeks. She was eight weeks pregnant, and the only person in this room who knew was currently across the space helping his uncle move a table that Charlie had decided was three inches too far to the left.
Joy watched Bear lift his end of the table without complaint, his shoulders flexing under his flannel shirt. He caught her eye and gave her a small smile—the private one, the one that saidI see youandwe’re in this togetherandlaterall at once.
She looked away before her face gave something away.
Through the frost-covered windows, she could see Velvet Mornings parked in the lot. The bright pink food truck with itspurple accents looked almost defiant against the gray Wyoming winter, a splash of color refusing to be dimmed. She’d driven it here out of habit more than necessity. Serving from it tonight was impossible—the cold would be brutal—but having it nearby felt right. Like keeping a piece of herself close.
For the gathering, she’d kept her contribution simple. One dish. A brown butter pecan tart with bourbon caramel drizzle, currently waiting with the other desserts being piled onto the long table against the far wall. She’d spent six attempts perfecting that recipe, and she’d only ever made it for Bear. Bringing it tonight felt like sharing a secret.
