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Trent laughs. “Don’t worry, man, I’m not here on a date.” His gaze flicks briefly to me and then back to Jackson. “I haven’t been home. I had a few things to take care of in the city and I ran into Lincoln at the gym. He mentioned dinner, and I’m never one to turn down an invitation. Especially not when it means I get to meet the woman my best friend can’t stop talking about.” Trent turns to me; his expression holds curiosity and a hint of mischief as he extends a hand. “We haven’t been formally introduced, although we have met a couple of times in passing. I’m Trent, Jackson’s friend and trusty sidekick.”

I take his hand, even more nervous than I was before. It’s one thing to be flown across the country for a business dinner, and completely another to meet Jackson’s best friend. This whole thing feels like a test I didn’t even know I was taking. I smile, hoping it doesn’t look strained. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. Jackson speaks very highly of you.”

“Likewise.” His gaze stays locked on mine for a few seconds, assessing before he finally drops my hand. “We should head inside. Don’t want to keep the boys waiting.”

I have no idea who the boys are. Or who this Lincoln person is.

We’re met by the host, who addresses Jackson as “Mr. Holt” and leads us through the empty restaurant. I want to ask Jackson why there’s no one else here, at least until I spot the table in the center of the restaurant occupied by two men. They stand at the same time, their movements almost synchronous. Judging by their faces, they must be related. I’d go as far to say they could be twins, but as we get closer, I notice the gray flirting at the temples of the slightly shorter one, along with a few crinkles in the corners of his eyes when he smiles.

“Jackson, man, it’s been a hot minute,” the shorter one, who’s on Jackson’s side, extends his hand, and when Jackson takes it, the man pulls him in for a back pat and a hug.

“Nice to see you again, Trent,” the other man says before he turns to me. He looks like Adonis come to life and smiles warmly, extending his hand to me. “You must be London Spark. I’m Lincoln, but you can call me Linc.”

“I am. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Linc.” I wish someone would use a last name so I would have a hope of piecing together why he seems familiar.

“Pleasure is all mine. Jackson has had nothing but great things to say about you and your event hotel.”

“Oh, well, that’s kind. We’re just a small family-run hotel, nothing as elaborate or stunning as this.” I motion to our surroundings. “But we’ve worked hard to get where we are, and we’re excited to see it flourish, particularly with our partnership with Holt Media.”

Linc’s smile turns knowing as his gaze slides from me to Jackson and back again. “Well, he certainly thinks highly of you. I can count on one hand the number of times he’s brought someone this far for a meeting with us. Apart from this guy.” He thumbs over his shoulder at Trent. “And he mostly comes just for the free food.”

“And the excellent company,” Trent replies.

“It really is quite an honor.” I will my cheeks not to turn red.

The other man turns his attention to me, and Jackson and Linc exchange back pats and hellos. “Griffin. I’m Lincoln’s cousin. It’s great to meet you, London. I’m sorry you’re stuck with just us guys tonight, but you’ll get a chance to meet our better halves in a couple of months at Jackson’s charity event here in New York, I’m sure.” He motions between himself and Lincoln.

“Oh, I don’t—”

“How are Wren and Cosy?” Jackson interrupts.

Trent and I both look at Jackson, who is very much focused on Linc and Griffin.

Linc drags his attention away from me, although he too has questions in his eyes.

“Great. They would have loved to have been here, but Wren volunteers at the hospital once a week when we’re not traveling, and Cosy went with her,” Griffin says, eyes doing the same volley between me and Jackson.

“She’s been doing that for a long time, hasn’t she?” Jackson says.

“She has. It’s been a passion project, and she misses it when we’re traveling.”

Lincoln pulls out a chair for me, and Jackson takes the one beside mine. The cousins take the two chairs on either side of me and Jackson, putting Trent between them. Griffin takes the one closer to me and Linc the one next to Jackson. As I settle into my chair, the server appears and offers us sparkling or still water before they ask if we’d like something to drink, and then addresses Griffin and Linc as Mr. Mills and Mr. Moorehead.

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