Page 57 of 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It
But Lincoln was shaking his head before the host could finish his sentence. “These aren’t my designs. They’re the designs of my excellent pastry chef, Claire Taylor.”
The host’s eyes bugged. “Claire Taylor?”
Lincoln narrowed his eyes. “Chef Taylor to you.”
Rex sputtered. “Of course. Well—” Words seemed to escape him. “Well, this is excellent work indeed.”
“As I said, my team is exceptional, and I expect wonderful things to come from them in the future. Including a Michelin star.”
Rex turned to the camera, his mouth all teeth from a smile Claire thought seemed unnaturally large. And fake. “We can see why. We’ll be right back, folks.”
As a commercial for adult diapers filled the screen, the room went silent. Then burst into chaos. Claire watched it all from where she stood at the counter, her heart tight with joy, her tears once again rolling down her face. She scanned the jubilant room as they celebrated for her until her gaze came to rest on the door to the café, where the glass frame barely contained a muscular figure in jeans and a tight tee that showed off far more tattoos than it concealed. Blue-gray eyes held hers through the glass and waited, searching. She wasn’t certain what for, but when he yanked open the door and stormed across the room toward her, she figured he must’ve found it.
Twenty-Four
There she was, standing at the coffee shop counter, her dark eyes red-rimmed from tears. The sight made him want to punch something, preferably Rex, the weasel. After agreeing that they wouldn’t discuss Shel Blanchard’s article or her accusations, the host had brought the subject up repeatedly. And though Linc usually possessed the rock-hard certainty of his own abilities that every celebrity chef had, his uncertainty about his success in answering those accusations lay like a boulder in his gut.
Were those tears of pain or relief? He wouldn’t hope for joy, but as long as he hadn’t caused Claire more pain than he already had, he’d get down on his knees and thank the universe for it.
The doorknob leading into the coffee shop felt cold despite the late summer heat. He grasped it anyway and pushed the door open. Claire stood still, waiting, her gaze glued to him. The jubilation in the room, the way various townspeople reached out to slap a shoulder in congratulations, shake his hand, even give him a hug—mostly the women—couldn’t drag his attention away from those eyes. Couldn’t stop him from making his way toward her. With every step his chest got tighter, his nerves twitchier, Claire’s silence a weight he almost couldn’t bear. But bear it he did, all the way up to the counter, where he stood before her as the room quieted and every person’s attention fell on the two of them.
It was time.
“Claire.”
“Lincoln.”
That full roll of his name off her tongue tightened his gut for a whole different reason. He kept his voice low. “I know you asked for time, and I want to give it to you. But I have something I need to say. Is that all right?”
Every second ticked by like an hour as he waited for her response. When she nodded, the tension snapped, nearly bringing him to his knees.
He cleared his throat. Time for part two.
“I know you saw my interview.” He’d asked Maria to call her in as it started. When he glanced at the café owner, she winked. He gave her a nod of thanks.
“I saw it,” Claire said. “How did you…”
“We prerecorded it yesterday,” he explained.
A murmur of understanding rose behind him. He resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck, sure it was red with embarrassment.
“I needed to stand up for you in the most visible way possible. What Shel did was wrong, and I wanted the world to know it. Not by telling them how little you matter to me, but by telling them how much you do. You’re a vital part of what will make Black Wolf great. I know that because you’ve already done it with the town, haven’t you? Hasn’t she?” he asked the crowd. Agreement rose around them.
Claire’s cheeks darkened.
“But I wasn’t just standing up for you, sweetheart,” he told her. “I was also standing up for my life. Because despite online fan groups screaming their opinions and talking heads on the latest gossip show telling stories they have no idea about, I have chosen you.” He had to pause a moment, his throat closing as the emotion welled up inside him. That emotion he’d discovered so few days ago but that had been there all along. “I’ve chosen you, Claire. Because of your work, your conviction, and your loyalty. Because you are so beautiful you take my breath away and so sassy you make—” He glanced around, cleared his throat. “Well, we can talk about that later.” He gave Claire a wink. “I’ve chosen you because you’re not afraid to tell me like it is instead of bowing down to celebrity. We all need someone like that in our lives, to keep us real. You keep me real. You showed me how to love again, and I’m not fighting it anymore.”
Moving closer, he dared to take her hand in his. “I choose you, Claire. And I’ll wait until you decide if you can do the same.”
Claire shook her head. Linc’s heart fell.
“You don’t have to wait,” she whispered, her voice a rasp.
His own voice barely escaped his throat. “Why?”
“Because I choose you too, Lincoln Young.”
Claire threw herself into his arms, and God, it was like coming home, only his house was no longer empty, it was full, with light and love and laughter. With a deep, deep joy that lit up his soul. And with desire, surging bright and hard as her body melded to his.
