But this was the first time we intentionally started this way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
WILLA
Beau:
No video call again this week? You been busy?
Willa:
Yeah. You know how strawberry season is… Hopefully we can catch up next week.
Beau:
Counting on that.
This wasn’tthe first time I’d been to Lincoln’s childhood home—far from it. I’d been over countless times when we were kids, Beau, Lincoln, and me causing hell for poor Holly. At least until high school when Lincoln and my brother had veered off in a different direction from me and I’d spent most of my time with my nose buried in a book or helping Dad on the farm.
But still, this felt different.
Because now, I was walking into Holly’s home under the guise of being Lincoln’swife, and I absolutely hated having to lie to that woman.
I was mulling over the different excuses I could give to bail when Lincoln squeezed my hand as we walked up the driveway toward the back door.
“Relax, wife. We’ve got this.” He grinned down at me. “Besides, this is what all the practicing has been for.”
His gaze turned heated as he stared at my lips, then slid his attention down my body. No doubt remembering everything that had transpired between us.
No doubt also remembering what I’d confessed.
And the worst part? I felt his stare all the way to my toes and every damn traitorous inch in between. My clit pulsed, my stomach flipping as I recalled the words he’d rasped while I’d ridden him, how hard he’d felt beneath me… How I’d made him come undone too.
Before I could say anything in response, he turned the knob on the back door and opened it, forcing me out of my memories and leading the way to pure madness.
The sharp, smoky scent of something burned hit first, followed by Chloe’s muffled curse as she pulled out a very-well-done pan of cookies from the oven.
Declan stood in front of the open fridge, expertly dodging Holly swatting at him with a towel as she muttered about how dinner was in ten minutes and to stop filling up on snacks.
Just through the wide archway into the living room, Xander’s daughter, Emma, was in full five-year-old prowess, shrieking out a song I didn’t recognize while digging through a box labeledImagination Station.
In front of her, both Xander and Atlas sat perfectly still, draped with feather boas and topped with a plastic tiara—Xander—and ostentatious fake earrings—Atlas—like it was just a normal Sunday.
At the dining table, Sutton sipped a glass of wine, watching Atlas play dress-up while Laurel hunched over her phone, thumbs flying, her entire posture screamingI don’t know these people.
And right in the middle of all the chaos, Holly stood at the stove. She ladled gravy with one hand, shooed Declan away from the fridge with the other, and managed the entire circus like it was second nature.
My stomach tightened as I took in everything, my nerves churning while I considered where exactly I’d fit into this little farce.
“Willa! Oh, thank god,” Chloe said, her hair pulled back, cheeks flushed. “You think I can salvage these cookies?”
Holly waved an unconcerned hand through the air. “Of course we can. We’ll just scrape off the brown parts.”
“Tryblackparts,” Declan muttered. “She really burned the shit out of those.”
Chloe reached up and smacked the back of Declan’s head just as Holly said, “For the love, Declan, we wanted to make a good impression on Willa tonight!”
“Why?” Declan lifted his chin toward me in greeting before turning back to his mom. “She’s not new here.”
