About her. About them.
About meeting her father.
The breath rushed from her lungs and Lynnette sagged against him for several seconds. Was it too soon? It arguably ought tohave been, but in her heart, it didn’t feel too soon. She just … hadn’t been prepared.
Her distracted vision refocused and before she could lift her head again, she caught sight of the chain that was trapped between their bodies. Lance’s tags. Her lips lifted in a smile. She was alreadywearinghis name. It really wasn’t too soon at all.
“You guys really don’t have to be helping me with this,” Jenna said as Jon and Lance carried in the second set of shiny new seats for her bakery. She finally had it back, fully released and a formal statement of apology from the Leeland County Sheriff’s Department to boot, but enough time had passed that what would have been an unpleasant job for some insurance-paid stiffs had become an insurance nightmare and triple the work. Apparently, her insurance company didn’t want to pay past the initial damage from when the law seized the property. They wanted Jenna to chase the county for reimbursement on product loss and any other out-of-pocket expenses. The county acknowledged things had been mishandled, but insisted they’d done their due diligence keeping it ‘secured.’
Lance still didn’t know how securing a building meant the perishable food inside was expected to not spoil, especially with the power shut off. Let alone how they could claim that when their own deputy agreed some third party had broken in while it was under their control at least once.
And damn had thatsomeonemade a mess.
“Oh, yes they do,” Lynn piped up from where she was working. Lance could hear the grin in her voice despite being at the wrongangle to see the way it shined in her eyes. “What else are fiancés for if not heavy lifting?”
Lance grinned, met Jon’s gaze from across the newly placed table, and they simultaneously dropped into their best muscle-head voices with a loud, grunted, “Oorah!”
Both women laughed.
Jenna’s shift manager, a decent guy with respectable enthusiasm, laughed with them.
“See?” Lynn said. “Grunt work is all they know. Let them be.”
Lance tucked his armload appropriately into place and turned to face the beautiful woman he’d somehow lucked into. “I’ll remember you said that tonight.”
To her credit, her face only reddened slightly before she swung her long-handled feather duster toward him with her left hand, the already-replaced overhead lights catching on the polished diamond she’d picked up from the jeweler late the previous afternoon. “Lance Blackburn! Less talking, more heavy lifting, on the double! Work like you mean it or sleep on the porch!”
Eric, the manager, snorted in his attempt to hide his laughter.
Lance couldn’t be offended. She didn’t mean the threat and he didn’t care if she used him for his muscles from time to time. So, he raised his arms to give a showy flex, tossed her a wink, and strode back through the door.
They had a full day of good, old-fashioned labor planned, but he didn’t mind in the least. Hell, he could barely keep focused on it.
True to his word, they’d flown down to San Diego the previous Friday to surprise her father. And of course, Daniel Garver hadn’t taken to him right away. Their communication had started with the begrudging acknowledgment and respect between two servicemen, hampered the tiniest bit by the inherent good-natured rivalry between branches. Lance had seen the moment Mr. Garver had noticed the tags that hungaround Lynn’s neck, and he saw in the man’s eyes a level of understanding. Not so much appreciation, but understanding.
It hadn’t been until Sunday evening when Lance had approached Petty Officer Second Class Daniel Garver about marrying his daughter. Which, of course, was his favorite conversation ever. It turned out there really were fathers who felt protective instincts for their children, even grown, and those old clichés were stereotypes for a reason. Fortunately, Lance had seen his share of gun barrels, and he knew an empty threat when it was aimed at him.
“I’m not saying I’ll back off if you say no. I won’t. But your approval is important to her, so I would ease up. Give it some more time. We’d have more of these fun father-future-son-in-law chats. You’d get used to me whether you wanted to or not, because I’ll be here. No certificate or piece of jewelry will change that. And sooner or later, you’ll come around, and you’ll give me your blessing. Once you’re convinced.”
Daniel didn’t like that. He narrowed his eyes and made a show of getting comfortable, gun still pointed outward. “Bullshit. You just met. You’re using my daughter as a rebound for your career, nothing more, nothing less. No way in hell am I agreeing to that.”
Lance schooled his face to keep the glare from settling. The accusation was unfounded, but objectively, he could respect where it came from. “We did meet only recently. I never denied that. But how long, really, does it take for a man who’s learned to pay attention to recognize when he’s met the right woman? Lynn’s it for me. Pure and simple.” When Daniel still looked like he’d rather pull the trigger, Lance opted to spell it out for the man. “I’m asking today, and I will come back and ask repeatedly no matter how long it takes, because Lynnette is my reason now. Nothing and no one is more worth fighting for than her.”
Daniel had stared at him like he’d grown a second head for a solid minute after that, then quietly set the gun down and excused himself. In the morning he’d met Lance beside the car and slipped him a box.“I’ve kept it clean, but it might need to be adjusted. If you’re going to marry my daughter … give her that ring. Give her that, and she’ll understand.”
The ring in question had been her mother’s, and when Lynnette saw it, she’d burst into tears like Lance had never seen. But from her flurry of kisses and the way she proceeded to cling to him, he’d wagered they weren’t the kind he needed to kick himself for. Three business days later her ring was resized, detailed, and telling all the world that she was off the goddamn market.
It was downright poetic that the first outing they did after picking it up was to return to the bakery where Lance’s time in Misty Glades had started, but this time, to put it back together.
Jon and Lance did most of the blood cleanup from the parking lot, because even though Jenna had caved and opted to have the asphalt redone, that wasn’t scheduled for three more weeks. And she was freaking out about the type of message it might send to even be suggesting for people to drive over the bloodstains.
The main windows were all replaced by noon. The broken glass swept up and, along with the old busted up furniture, rotted and repulsive food, and ruined display case that Jenna was literally in tears over, went into the big dumpster bin Jon had rented. The women—and Eric—focused on cleaning, touching up décor, replacing lightbulbs and restocking things they could easily reach or handle. Another employee had been sent into town with a large shopping list. Jon and Lance busted out some old, never perfected carpentry skills in an attempt to make a new, at least temporary display unit.
It was a long fucking day. By the time they were closing up the sun had mostly disappeared, the evidence of chaos was long-gone, and except for the lack of available goodies, the bakery looked okay. To Lance’s estimation. Granted, all he really knew about bakeries was that they held delicious food he then had to work off.
Jenna breathed out a heavy, tired, but somehow bright sigh as she stepped back from locking the front door. “Most of the hard work is finally done. It looks so much better.” She turned to face them all, managing to beam despite having worked as hard as any of them. “Thank you all so much.”
“Are you kidding?” the girl who’d done the shopping run said. “I can’t wait to get back to work.”
