“Like you mean it.”
He didn’t deny it. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all.
Instead, he gathered up my things, tucked them into my bag, and hefted it over his shoulder. Then he held out a hand for me.
“C’mon, hellcat. We’re gonna get you some lunch. And then it’s time for more practice.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WILLA
Lincoln:
A vendor just showed up, and I’m not sure when I’ll be done with them. If you get here while I’m still busy, grab Brooks to help you haul in the order.
Willa:
Or how about I just do it myself?
Lincoln:
Or how about you stop being a stubborn shit for one goddamn morning and let the able-bodied 22 yo kid do it?
Willa:
You’re a pain in my ass
Lincoln:
Better than a pain in your back
If Lincoln sentme one more text like he was the director of my day, I was going to stab him with a fork while he was sleeping. He could take his overprotective bossiness and shove it up his ass. Honestly, who did he think he was? Mykeeper?
I’d been living the chronic pain life for six years. I wasn’t new to this. And in that time, not a single day had gone by when something didn’t ache, pinch, stab, or radiate down my legs like hellfire. If I waited for a pain-free window to do things, I’d be rotting in the silo, getting absolutely nothing done, all while being buried under a mountain of unpaid bills.
So, no. I wasn’t going to sit around with a heating pad waiting for Prince Charming with giant biceps, annoying dimples, and a rescue complex to show up.
I was going to do what I always did and get shit done.
I backed up my truck to the delivery door at One Night Stan’s, already mentally organizing the crates of honey, syrups, and eggs by drop point. The bar was the first of many deliveries today, and I had it timed down to the minute. Which meant I wasn’t going to wait around to grab someone to help.
Except I hadn’t even turned off the ignition before Brooks came bounding out the back door.
“Morning, Willa,” he called with a wave, already popping open the tailgate and pulling crates from the truck bed.
I opened my mouth to tell him to slow his roll, but he was already halfway to the door carrying three crates, so fine.Fine. If he was gonna be eager, I wasn’t going to stop him. I still needed to make sure the back storage shelves were cleared and ready for the delivery anyway.
Inside the bar, the early morning quiet was almost eerie. No music, no crowd, no obnoxious husband. Just the gentle clink of glass as I checked the storage shelves, taking note of what they’d gone through and mentally adjusting for the next order.
By the time I turned around to head back outside, I expected six crates to be waiting by the door. What I did not expect wasallof them.
Like, literally, all of them. Every single last one from the truck bed was stacked three high along the back wall.
Shit.
That wasn’t just One Night Stan’s order. That waseveryone’sorder. The bar. The bakery. The café. The resort diner. Even the extra crates that were supposed to be dropped at Starlight Cove Resort for an event they were hosting this weekend.
I blinked, hoping maybe I was hallucinating from lack of caffeine. I wasn’t.
