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“Hey, sweetheart, how are you?” Linc held up two plastic cups. “Just drove past a little boy with a lemonade stand. I wasn’t going to stop, but he looked at me, and deadass started miming like he was throwing a lasso at the truck and pulling me in. I didn’t have a choice; it’s a lawless land out there, and I stopped to get us some.”
She took the proffered cup and kissed his cheek even though she knew the encouragement would lead to trouble. “I hope you weren’t bamboozled by the Belkin boy since he adds too much sugar to everything he sells.”
Linc flipped the lid off and gulped the bright yellow liquid. “Doubt this concoction will kill us, but that’s not to say we won’t be shaking from the sugar rush in another thirty minutes.”
She held up the glass. “I guess death from lemonade could make an interesting eulogy.” Sipping carefully, she decided it wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever consumed. “About last night….”
“Darling, I brought the ladies to help with the books.”
Lucy watched her grandmother and a half-dozen women from the Haven Ladies’ Society approach.
Linc bent down. “We’ll talk about our kissing later and figure out when we can get back to it.” He threw a wink, waved to the ladies, and then headed toward the back door of the store.
She dropped her shoulders and decided to accept that the Almighty had an excellent reason for interrupting her reset with the sexy beast of a Buddha. Contemplating the best path to a gracious acceptance of the inevitable, she was surprised to see a whole passel of people head in her direction.
Feeling a bubble of tears form, she was overwhelmed with gratitude. The town folks of Haven had come to save her bacon once again. The monumental task of moving what she guessed was twenty-five hundred books would now be doable.
Grams strolled over and took Lucy’s hand. “Are those tears of gratitude or anguish?”
“Gratitude, of course.” She swiped at her damp cheeks. “All these people showing up is so lovely.”
“I agree and think we’re fortunate to live in a community that believes in helping one another when difficulties arise.” Margret looked up. “Are the weepy feelings due to the state of the store, or have things gone off the tracks with Linc?”
“We’re not… he and I don’t… what I’m trying to say is….”
“He wasn’t part of the plan, and you have no idea how to adjust?”
“Yes!”
“Darling, you know that fortune drops when one least expects it, and ignoring the blessing because of bad timing is never a wise choice.” She patted Lucy’s hand. “And not just because you won’t like what gets sent the second time around.”
“Linc Hawker is not my destiny. He’s…”
“Just what you need,” Margret finished firmly. “He’s charmed by you, not overwhelmed, and given the fact that’s never happened before, I think it wise to take him for a spin. You never know; he may be quite a partner.”
“I suppose a whirl wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
“Not by a long shot. And since I’ve sailed the varied waters of amour so successfully, you should take my advice.”
A fact she couldn’t argue with since her grandmother had navigated a successful long-term marriage, numerous love affairs, and widowhood with aplomb. “I will take it under advisement.”
“Excellent. Now, let’s go tackle your horde of books.”
“Collection, Grams. It’s a carefully curated compilation.”
“Is that what they’re calling a massive stockpile these days?”
She ignored the question and vowed to find homes for all her lovely books and somehow do a little good in the process.
Many hours later, Lucy sat under a tree that dominated the back corner of the lot and couldn’t believe how much had been accomplished. Linc had worked with Allen and somehow managed to get three pods delivered along with boxes. More than half the back room was empty, and she was relieved that a tiny glimpse of light was on the horizon.
Gigi joined her on the scrubby patch of grass. “Do you think Tavis wore those shorts just to torture me?”
Lucy studied the beautiful man and shook her head. “I doubt it since he likely doesn’t have a diabolical bone in his body.”
“Cargo shorts are inherently horrible; how does he make them look so good?”
“Let’s face it; there isn’t a thing his former football-playing physique couldn’t improve. She wagged her finger in Tavis’s direction. “Those scrubby shorts and worn-out T-shirt are hanging on his packed muscles like art.”
