“Hey, Meg,” Zach says, then turns to his carbon copy. “This is my brother, William.”
William’s smile is genuine but reserved.
I’m a little awestruck because William Hayes was one of Dad’s biggest stars. I never met him, but he’s a legend. “So great to meet you,” I say. “Are you just in town for the party?” I remember sending his invite to an Oregon address, but that step in party planning is a bit of a blur now. William turned down a career in the NFL. Something about a bad concussion?
“William just started with Finn River Fire and Rescue,” Zach adds.
“Oh!” I glance at Linden, but of course he already knew all ofthis. “Congratulations,” I say to William. “From football to firefighting. How are you liking it so far?”
A look I can’t read flashes across his handsome features. He and Linden share a brief glance before he replies, “I’ve got a lot to learn, but the guys have been great.”
“That’s so good to hear.” I smile at Zach. “Did you play for the Falcons too?”
“No, we moved to Finn River after I’d finished high school.”
“Sounds like Finn River is lucky to have you both.” I hope they don’t get pestered with questions about current events tonight. Good thing Annaleise isn’t my date or I would have had to physically restrain her.
An older couple enters the ballroom and beeline for Zach and William. After they hug, the older man extends his hand to me. “You’re Meg, right? I’m Henry Hutton, and this is my wife, Barb. You probably don’t remember me.”
“All three of our sons played for your dad,” Barb adds. To my surprise, she pulls me into a soft hug. “I knew your mom,” she says, quieter. “This is such a lovely tribute to both of them.”
When we part, I dab at the unexpected tear pricked at the corner of my eye. Barb and I laugh about it, and then she rejoins her group meandering toward the patio.
“This is incredible,” Linden says, scanning the wall of pictures. “You put in so much work.”
“So did Dad,” I reply, pride swelling inside my chest.
Linden turns, his steady brown eyes so totally focused on me. “He’s a lucky father. I hope he appreciates it.”
My already wobbly tummy flips. “You want to get a drink?”
“Sure,” Linden says with a half-smile. We stroll past the guests milling at the photo wall to the bar set up at the edge of the patio. A few elegant standing tables are scattered throughout the patio, each with a framed picture of Dad or the team and a handful ofthe noisemakers for later plus blue and gold glitter party hats in case people really want to ham it up.
Beyond the patio, the manicured greens of the ninth hole meet the forested foothills and jagged Bitterroots turning every shade of purple in the lowering sun.
“What a beautiful night,” a woman to my left says as she and her date step outside.
Linden’s hand grazes my low back, and a swirl of heat and longing and joy spirals tight inside my chest, making it hard to get in a steady breath. I focus on the pebbled concrete beneath my soles and the cool air brushing my hot cheeks. On Linden’s fresh woodsy scent and the tender weight of the bracelet on my wrist, its meaning burning fierce and powerful inside me.
Am I brave enough to admit what I’m feeling?
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asks.
Linden catches my eye, and his expression brightens, like me being an emotional fireball right now is cause for celebration. “You want wine tonight?” he asks, brushing a stray curl from my temple and tucking it behind my ear.
I gaze up at him, overcome with that desperation to kiss him again. Where has this charm been hiding all these months? Has he kept this tender, humble side of himself from me all this time? Or have I been too blind to see it?
“Yes, please.” I take a step closer to him.
As if sensing my need for assurance, he slides his arm to my waist and rests his big hand on the small of my back. This close, the scent of his manly aftershave and the warmth of his skin crowd every speck of my awareness. If I close my eyes, I’ll spin out of control.
Linden hands me a glass of white wine and picks up a beer for himself, then he leads me toward one of the standing tables. On the way, a woman I recognize pulls me into a hug.
“Meg, my god!” she says, squeezing me tight. “It’s Betty, the sports department secretary! Remember me?”
“Betty, of course!” I step back with a smile. Betty used to sneak me lollipops if I got stuck waiting for Dad in his office after school. I’ve just finished meeting her husband and introducing Linden when there’s a shout from the ballroom.
“Here he is!” someone calls out.
