Page 85 of Bourbon and Secrets

It’s a better response than I was expecting after listening to that exchange. “Hi, girls. Thanks for letting me crash your breakfast party.”

Lincoln kisses the top of my head and ushers me over to the end of the counter. He tosses a dish towel over his shoulder and grabs the pan of eggs. “Alright, I’ve got scrambled eggs. Those two ate all the bacon, but...” He turns and grabs a bowl. “Avocado. Here’s the hot sauce. And we have strawberries and some figs as well.”

And while I’m wildly impressed by any kind of breakfast being made for me, it's actually the coffee mug and pint glass in front of me that catches me by surprise.

“And I didn’t know how you were feeling this morning, so I did a black coffee, hot—like mine. And an iced coffee with sweetened condensed milk and cinnamon.” Grabbing a straw from the drawer in front of him, he puts it in the iced coffee cup.“I had to call my sister-in-law to ask what the hell something iced and sweet was, and we came up with this.”

Is he serious?

“Are you okay?” Lily asks from my side. “Dad, is she okay?”

I’m having an internal hip-hop dance party regarding the gesture her father just made. It feels too nice to be surprised by someone like this. I focus on the blue eyes watching me behind his black-rimmed glasses and get distracted by the dimples that peek out as a knowing smile takes over his face. Heknowshe did good.

“Which one are you feeling today?”

“Black would have been just fine, but I’m thinking I could go for something sweet.” I take a sip, and he gives me a wink. I eat the breakfast he made for all of us, feeling oddly comfortable, and he chats with Lily about her newest playlist.

“Those blow-up disco balls look like fun. Are you guys having a party?” I ask as I look across the room and see a pile of decorations in their packages, from confetti poppers to glitter streamers.

“My birthday is this weekend, but tonight is my sleepover party,” Lark answers. “It’s my first one and Dad went all out. He even said yes to individual tents for all of us.”

It’s impossible not to smile at her excitement. And the fact that she’s telling me about it.

“I got special pajamas for it too,” Lily shares, but Lark shuts that down.

“Dad, does Lily really have to be here for the whole thing? It’s not fair. I just want to have my friends and not her.”

Lily pushes her plate forward and crosses her arms. “You’re my big sister, why can’t I be excited about your birthday?” Hopping off her chair with a huff, she storms upstairs.

Lincoln looks at his oldest with the definition of a “dad glare,” and then glances at me as I’m taking a bite of sliced fig.

“Lark,” he grits out. “That really was mean. I told you I was going to keep her busy for most of the party so you had time with your friends, but you can’t say that to her. She thinks you’re the coolest person to ever exist.”

Lark tilts her head back and lets out a dramatic sigh. “Fine.”

“I wouldn’t mind some company later today. If Lily’s free, I was thinking it might be nice to have a tour around Fiasco from a local.”

Before Lincoln can even answer whether that’s a good idea, Lily comes charging down the stairs, practically running Lark over in the process. “Yes, I’ll do it. Can I go with Faye, Dad? Please. Please.”

He points at Lily, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “We’re going to talk about Jordan.”

She gives him a wide-eyed look and shakes her head. “Faye, please tell my dad that I’m nine. I donothave kissing friends...yet.”

I laugh out, “I am just an observer here.” Then when he turns around, still listening, I stage-whisper to her, “But I’m not against hearing all about it.”

Chapter 30

Lincoln

“Haveyou figured out what you’re doing with your specialty bourbon yet?” Griz asks with his arms crossed, preparing to give me his opinion on what I should consider.

“Not yet,” I tell him. “Ace shot down my idea.”

Kit scratches at my leg with her two front paws. Boosting her onto my lap, I scratch under her neck. “Lark, I think Kit needs to go for a walk.”

Griz watches on and adds, “You realize that is not a lapdog?” And he’s right. The dog has paws the size of my palm and she’s nowhere near the end of growing.

“Kit, tell your great grandpa that you can be whatever you want to be. And to get off my back about the bourbon blend,” I repeat in a low, mocking voice. The dog looks up at me, her tongue hanging from her mouth as if she’s smiling. She barks out as if to answer.

---