He scowled. “Bo.”
“Oh. That’s right.” She smiled weakly. “I won’t forget it again.” That was, if she had a reason to talk to Bo anytime in the near future, which she doubted. “My name is Jennifer.”
“I didn’t forget.” She watched him study her face, drift down to her shoulders, her chest, then zero in on her cake server. “What you got there?”
“This? Oh, it’s a cake.”
“You brought over a cake?”
“It’s a thank-you cake. For John.”
His brow wrinkled. “Who?”
“Oh! I mean Lincoln. I baked a thank-you cake for Lincoln.” Yes, she had now shared that she had a cake in her hands three times.
When Bo tilted his head, like he was trying to comprehend such a thing, she rushed on. “I know. I bet he would have rather had a six pack of beer or something. And I should’ve called before I drove over here. I didn’t know he was having a party.”
Bo looked over his shoulder like this was news to him too. “Huh. I guess you could call this a party.”
When he looked back at her, she realized that the heels of her cute mules were slowly sinking into the ground. “Hey, you know what? Maybe I should deliver this later.”
“No way. Lincoln’s probably wondering what’s taking you so long.”
So long? “To do what?”
“To come up to the house. Come on.” He turned and started walking.
Her heart sinking like her heels with every step, Jennifer followed.
The closer she got to the door, the more she regretted her decision, which was saying a lot.
There now had to be at least a dozen people standing on the front porch and they were all looking at her like she was a strange creature that had just appeared from the woods. Even the other men who’d helped her unload the van looked surprised to see her.
And no wonder. She was wearing a pair of navy wool slacks, an ivory sweater, and beautiful, impractical, turquoise suede mules. In her hands was a plastic cake carrier. She looked like she was going to a church social. Not this . . . this, whatever this was.
Right as reached the front steps, one of the men tagged Bo. “What you got there?”
“Jennifer here has a gift for Lincoln.” He looked down at her hands. “It’s a cake,” he added, sounding as if it was a foreign word.
“She going in?”
Bo nodded. “Yeah. Where’s he at?”
The guy shrugged. “Ain’t no telling. But I wouldn’t bring her inside.”
“Don’t see as I’ve got a choice. I’m not going to just leave her out here.”
Yep, they were talking about her like she wasn’t standing there right in front of them all. Jennifer was starting to feel like a stray dog no one wanted around.
It was time to finish this visit and get back home where it was safe and quiet.
She cleared her throat. “Bo, since you don’t think I should leave this with you, I’m going to head on in. I’m sure my delivery won’t take but a minute.”
Bo looked appalled. “Hey, now—”
Ignoring him, she walked through the door.
And entered a whole new world.
Though the house wasn’t much to speak of on the outside—kind of an old red sprawling ranch—inside it was decorated in vintage fraternity style. Mismatched couches, scarred coffee tables, beer cans littering all manner of surfaces . . . and she was pretty sure there was more than one couple making out in the back corners.
There was also a group of men playing cards at a massive table near the kitchen. Lincoln was one of them.
As she stood there, pretty much gaping at everything in wonder, the door opened and shut behind her.
“Come on, then,” Bo said, sounding irritated. “He’s over there. Let’s get this over with.”
When he started walking, she kept by his side, though it was a bit of a challenge, given that Bo was a good six inches taller than her and she was in mules with kitten heels and holding a three-layer cake.
Those heels made little clapping noises on the wood floor.
Lincoln looked their way. And then did a double take.
After saying something under his breath, he threw his hand of cards on the table and stood up.
“Here he comes,” Bo said.
“I noticed,” Jennifer muttered.
As he came closer, Lincoln pulled out his cell phone and studied the screen with a frown. Then he shoved it into his jeans pocket.
“Jennifer, what’s wrong?” he asked.
Oh, any number of things. Starting with the fact that she was holding a chocolate cake while a couple on a nearby couch next to her seemed to be minutes from pulling off the rest of their clothes. Lord, she hoped they’d wait at least ten more minutes.
“Nothing,” she said in an almost-cheerful voice. “I brought you something.”
Lincoln glanced at his phone’s screen again before he studied her closely. “Did you call?”
She met his gaze. Noticed for about the fifteenth time that his eyes were really blue. Dark blue, like lapis.
Then the woman on the couch moaned.
Oh! She needed to get out of this room. Clearing her throat again, she attempted to find her voice. “John. I mean, Lincoln, sorry but I didn’t text or call. I guess I should have, though. Anyway, here.” She thrust her container toward him.
He took it easily enough, but he held the red Rubbermaid cake server like it had a bomb about to go off inside of it. “What is this?”
“It’s a cake, Lincoln,” Bo announced. “She made you a freaki—” He looked over at her again. “A chocolate cake.”
Lincoln was still holding the container gingerly, like it might explode. He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a thank you present.” When he still only stared at her, she added, “You know, as a thank you for calling all the guys to help me carry all my boxes and furniture into the house last week. It was really nice of you.”
“It was no big deal.”
“Well, it was to me. You and all the guys really made my life easier.” She smiled at Bo, so he’d see that she hadn’t forgotten that he’d carried her desk inside.
Lincoln ran a hand through his coal-black hair. “No need to thank me for helping you out. I promised Ginny we’d look out for you.”
Ah. He hadn’t done the favor for her, he’d done it out of obligation to her dead grandmother. And . . . that made the awkwardness of this whole errand complete.