Page 32 of 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It
Great. And no doubt he’d be reporting back to her mother about running into Claire and Lincoln together. The way he eyed Lincoln’s arm around her said he wouldn’t leave out any details.
She’d been so happy this morning, lying in the bed with Lincoln beside her, above her. Inside her. Maybe the two of them could escape and leave all of this behind?
Unfortunately not.
She eased her hand behind Lincoln and hooked her fingers into the belt loop at the center of his back. Lincoln tightened his hold on her in response.
“Mom said she hasn’t talked to you.” Daran’s tone judged her worse than Reverend Bishop from the pulpit on Sundays.
“And if she wants to talk about me missing family dinner to go to my best friend’s engagement party, she won’t be hearing from me anytime soon,” Claire said bluntly. Frankly hergive a fuckhad got up and went about ten minutes ago. “If that’s what you came here to reprimand me about, my answer to you is the same as my answer to her: I am an adult. I do not have to justify supporting my friend to anyone. Y’all should be the ones supporting me.”
Daran opened his mouth to respond, but Jared beat him to breaking the tense silence. “I meant to tell Lanelle how much we appreciated the blanket she knitted for the baby shower. Sara already has it laid out on the crib, ready for our little one’s arrival.”
That pain she was trying to keep buried under bravado exploded behind her breastbone. “You know, I think I’m done.” She straightened away from Lincoln, staring the two men in front of her down. “Can I get either of you something from the bakery?”
Jared scoffed. Daran frowned down at her, his handsome face set in lines of stubbornness.
“That’s what I thought.” Leaving the reassurance of Lincoln’s touch behind, she moved around the counter and headed for the door. “It’s time for everyone to go.”
Along the way, she snatched three sugar cookies the size of her palm, decorated like baseballs, from a nearby basket, and took them with her. Pulling the door open, she gestured the adults along. “I think we’ll be closing early today. Goodbye.”
Across the room, Sara’s cheeks turned red, and she began ushering the boys toward the door. As they came even with her, Claire handed each boy a cookie. “Here you go. I think y’all will enjoy these.”
The boys bounced out the door, clutching their treats. Sara cleared her throat as she reached the door. “Claire—”
But Claire didn’t want to hear it. “Sara,” she interrupted, “maybe next time, bring the boys in because you want to give them a treat, not because you plan to torture them with what you won’t give them while you rub something in my face.”
Sara winced. “Goodbye, Claire.” She gestured toward the kids. “Thank you.”
Claire nodded.
Jared was next. As he passed, Claire took a deep breath. “Jared, I don’t want to see you in my store again.”
He glared down at her. “I can go anywhere I please.”
“No, you can’t.”
The words weren’t Claire’s. Lincoln walked up beside her, his hand going to the low curve of her spine once again. Supporting her. Having her back. Jared had never had her back, but this…this sent a rush of warmth through her. And maybe the prickling of tears.
Lincoln wasn’t done.
“Gimme Sugar is private property,” he said, staring Jared down. “Claire gets to decide who comes in. You’re not wanted. She’s made that plain.”
“And if I don’t choose to accept that?”
Lincoln shrugged, but his expression was had hardened into something far from casual. “I don’t think you wanna try it.”
If she’d been Jared, that look would have had her pissing her pants. “I have no problem calling the police, Jared,” she assured him. “Don’t try me.”
Jared walked out the door. Claire squared her shoulders and turned back to Daran.
“What exactly was that?” he barked.
“That was me standing up for myself. Now…” She gestured out the door. “You too.”
“What?”
“Out.” She shook her head at him. “I’m your blood. Jared is not your brother; he’s not our mother’s son. That baby belongs to the man who broke his marriage vows to me. You know what he’s doing every time he brings her here, and you’re practically patting him on the damn back.” The prickle of tears surged, this time from pain. “When you all decide to support me more than you support my ex-husband, we can talk again, but until then, I’m done.” She gave him a pointed look. “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.”
