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?”
“Do the other tenants create pet food as well?” His brow furrowed.
“For your information, our food is edible by humans. We use fresh and fine ingredients.” I lifted my chin. He could do whatever his business was, but should leave ours to us.
His expression remained unchanged.
“We might open a store.”
I grimaced. “Not anytime soon,” I quickly amended. We were still finding our groove. Somehow, if Lincoln knew of our plans and that we never got it launched, I’d be embarrassed at the failure.
I’d be ashamed if anyone saw us fail, but something about him knowing . . . it would cause double the shame. Maybe that was because he was so successful.
“Where would you locate it?” he asked as if I hadn’t just told him we weren’t ready.
“No idea. We just tossed it around this morning.” I finished my donut, chewing more aggressively than necessary. So much for a relaxing break.
“You should make Muffy your dog. Then we could bring you food for him every day.”
Whoa. I often wondered about the workings of Eric’s mind and where some of his thoughts came from. This one was most definitely not happening.
“I don’t have time to care for a dog.”
What Lincoln didn’t say was that he didn’t have the desire either.
“You make time for what you want to do.” Another of Eric’s pearls of wisdom.
Lincoln appeared to be at a temporary loss for words as he let that nugget soak in. “You must have a dog, considering you’re in the dog supply industry.” His tone dripped with triumph. The you of his statement didn’t feel as if it included my brother.
What he should’ve said is “Lexie, how do you consider yourself an expert at preparing dog food when you don’t have one of your own?”
That was what he meant. And it was fine if he wanted to be judgy like that.
I perked up and shielded my eyes. “Oh, I think I see Mrs. Johnson. It’s been lovely to see you as always, Mr. Hollingsworth, but we must get back to business. You understand.” I flashed him the fakest smile I could muster. One that meant go away, ass.
He continued to block Eric’s doorway. “When do you have time in your schedule for a visit to the tailor? Would Sunday morning be suitable?”
“Yes!” Eric answered without considering anything else.
And because of his excitement, I couldn’t protest. That wouldn’t be fair to him just to spite Lincoln.
“I’ll text you the time I’ll collect you.”
“We aren’t trinkets,” I said smartly.
He tilted his head. “No, you most certainly aren’t.”
“Lincoln, I’ve been waiting for you for fifteen minutes. Don’t waste more of my time carousing.”
He stiffened at the harsh words and seemed to steel himself before he turned around. When he stepped away from the van, the older version of Lincoln stood on the sidewalk. So that’s where he learned that pissed off expression.
Wordlessly, Lincoln stalked away in the direction of Mrs. Johnson’s building. From the moment of locking eyes on his father, I’d been unimpressed. Pretentious. Jerk. Two words that seemed to sum him up, if I had to. I’d lived with people like that.
You’ll never amount to anything, Lexie. You . . . and him.
As much as I despised our horrid parents, maybe they weren't as bad as Samuel Hollingsworth. Maybe.
Chapter Fourteen
Lincoln
“I’ve buried this as deep as I can, but it isn’t going away.”
My father paced in my home office space. I wanted him gone. Out of my sanctuary.
What would it be like to have the kind of relationship where I welcomed his presence? One where we had dinner and chatted about . . . whatever it was most relatives discussed.
At least have the courtesy to be gone before Beau returns.
For once, I was grateful for the late hours she’d been keeping.
Who is Mrs. Johnson?
I didn’t know any of the neighbors in my building because I had the luxury of avoiding them. My private elevator went to my private garage and my three levels at the top. Today was the rare occasion where I used the front entrance because I’d walked from the underground subway station. Beau had insisted we use that mode of transportation to get a better feel for the area around the property I wished to purchase. Despite she hadn't been with me when I left Daniel’s, I’d taken the subway home anyway.