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The steady rhythm in my chest stuttered.
“Variety is the spice of life.” Eric was like a sponge. I was pretty sure Miss Adeline had told him that recently, though I didn’t think she was referring to food.
Lincoln said nothing, just stared in that way he did like he could see my every thought.
Go away.
I smiled to myself. How do you like that thought, buddy?
Then I realized I was cross-legged, barefoot, slouching, and had flecks of chocolate icing on my pink dress. No one got to see the disaster behind closed doors. I had an image to uphold.
Pretty sure that was shot when you let him set foot in the apartment.
Why did my reasonable side have to perk up at inconvenient times?
“Do you play an instrument?”
Lincoln started at the random question. “No. Do you?”
“I want to learn piano like Lexie.”
Instead of sinking farther into my seat, I straightened. “We’ll have to clear up your schedule some for lessons.”
There had to be a teacher out there who’d do a trade of dog food instead of money.
“I’m pretty busy,” Eric said. “But I want to learn the ‘Bobby McGee’ music.”
“We’ll work on it.”
“What are you doing at Mrs. Johnson’s building?” Eric tore off a piece of donut and offered it to Lincoln who refused with a head shake.
“I wasn’t aware the property belongs to Mrs. Johnson.”
Eric munched and licked at a stay crumble of icing. “She lives there.”
Because of that, we called it Mrs. Johnson’s building. Apparently, that was unsatisfactory to Mr. Hollingsworth.
He glanced back at the building as if seeing it from a new perspective. “Do you know anyone else who resides there?”
“No. She buys our dog food. If other dogs lived there, they’d buy our dog food too.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning. Eric had a confidence and swagger without being pretentious. I adored that about him.
“I’m sure they would.”
“Mrs. Johnson is running late so we’re hanging out here until she gets back.”
My brother also had no filter. While I was certain Lincoln didn’t want to hear the minute details of our lives, I had to give him credit once more. He listened to Eric as if what he was saying was of the utmost importance.
“Is this your last stop?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Eric beat me to it.
“Yep. After this, we have to go make the batch for the next day.”
“Where do you do that? Not your apartment?” He sounded a little horrified at the thought. Given the condition he’d seen it in, that was understandable.
“We rent a shared commercial kitchen space and get a good deal for using it in the evenings.” Now who was oversharing? “And you never answered Eric’s question. Why are you at Mrs. Johnson’s building?”
