Protecting What's Mine(116)

“Go,” Russell said when Mack looked at him.

“We’re closing early anyway. Take your family to lunch.”

Family. The word used to stick in her throat. They weren’t hers. Not legally or biologically. But damn it, in her heart, in the place that it counted the most, Dottie and Win were the best parents she could have asked for.

“Why don’t you see if your manfriend can join us?” Dottie suggested brightly.

“Linc? Oh, he might be busy.” The plan had been for Mack to have a fun takeout dinner with the Nguyens tonight while Linc worked the night shift. They’d meet him officially tomorrow.

“It sounds like you’re scared to introduce him to us,” Violet mused. “So does that mean you’re ashamed of us or him?”

“It has to be him,” Dottie said, playing along. “We’re amazing.”

They were.

“You can call him on the way to the diner,” Win suggested as he peered over Freida’s shoulder while she walked him through the local dining options. “What kind of specials do they have on Wednesdays? Oh, lookie here. They’ve got their specials online.”

Mack was starting to sweat. This wasn’t the plan. But had she bothered adhering to the plan since she got here? Sighing, she pulled her cell phone out of her coat pocket and texted Linc.

Mack: Short notice, but my foster fam showed up early. We’re going to lunch at the diner. Want to meet them? It’s no problem if you can’t.





It would be more casual than having them all over to her place for dinner. That felt too official. Casual was good. Casual meant she wouldn’t have to answer questions about futures.

Linc: I can’t wait to meet them. Finishing up a call, but I’ll swing by after. P.S. I promise not to tell them how beautiful you are when you’re naked.





Mack’s face turned six shades of scarlet.

“Uh-oh. What’s that face?” Dottie demanded, her motherly instincts not missing a beat.

“Nothing!” Mack coughed. “Uh, how about I drive us? Linc is on a call.”

Yes, she felt silly for being nervous about her ex-foster parents meeting her adult boyfriend. And yes, she knew it was stupid. But sometimes facts didn’t change feelings.





Thirty minutes later, over hot open-faced roast beef sandwiches, crispy fries, and, okay, a boring salad for Mack, they and the rest of the diner patrons watched as the command vehicle rolled up in front of the diner, lights flashing.

“Oh, God. No,” Mack whispered.

Linc, looking dashing in his turnout pants with dirt streaked over his face and a fresh bandage on the back of his left hand, climbed out of the truck, waved to a handful of onlookers, and strolled to the door of the diner.

He looked like a firefighting Ken doll. And Mack couldn’t decide if she was more proud or embarrassed.

“Is that him?” Dottie hissed. “Oh, good job, honey.”

“O-M-G, Mack. If that is him, I promise I’m going to stop calling you a sad single lady,” Violet said. She left a makeup smear on the window.

“Big deal. So he puts out fires and saves lives for a living. Can he identify all of the metatarsal bones?” Win wanted to know.

And then Linc was in the diner, strolling toward them. “Hey there, Dreamy.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek and presented her, Dottie, and Violet each with a single rose from behind his back. The women swooned.

“Little freezer fire at the florist’s,” he said. “Gloria says hi. You must be Mackenzie’s parents. I’m Linc.” He offered his hand to Win.

He was showing off. For her family. And she loved him for it.





58





Mack woke to the silence of the middle of the night. Something had jolted her out of sleep. It wasn’t the gradual awakening in the space between dreams. Something had dragged her from sleep into awake.

In the dim light, she saw Sunshine sit up on the bed next to her and cock her head.

Three a.m. That meant it was officially Thanksgiving Day.

“What’s the matter, buddy?” she rasped. Her throat tickled as if it was irritated.

Then her senses caught up. There was a tang in the air, something bitter, acrid. Something wrong.

There was a noise downstairs. A shuffling, a soft thump.

It could be Linc. He could be coming home early from his shift. But that wasn’t his tread.

Her gun was in a lockbox in the coat closet on the first floor. A really stupid place for it, she realized too late.

She snapped on the bedside light and grabbed her phone with shaking fingers sent off a text to Linc.

The room looked hazy, and she blinked her eyes, trying to clear them.

Mack: Are you here at my place?





There were footsteps on the stairs now.

She knew before the door opened that it wasn’t him. The figure in her doorway was framed in a ghostly orange flicker of light. It wasn’t Linc. And it wasn’t the sunrise lighting the interior of her home.

It was fire.

Sunshine let out a low, threatening growl, her body stiffening into a defensive posture between Mack and the figure.

Black smoke billowed lazily in, clinging to the ceiling.

Blindly, she hit what she hoped to God was the emergency call button on her phone.