Chapter 19

I lie awake, staring at the ceiling. I can't say if it's because I took an almost two-hour nap at Eli's while everyone else was watching the movie or if it's because I woke up in Lincoln's arms.

I woke up in Lincoln's arms.

There's a possibility I might have a little crush on him. This did not help. Since I'm not supposed to be trying to date, once I realized what I'd done, I sat up quickly and distanced myself so he wouldn't get the wrong idea. And gentleman that he is, he didn't react to my scramble. Or the way I discreetly wiped the edge of my lips and then prayed that I hadn't drooled on his shirt. Since I couldn't meet his eyes, staring at his chest to double-check seemed the right thing to do.

He"d walked me out to my car and carried all our extra stuff—the folded-up portable crib that Margot sleeps in even at home. He'd slung my ruffly gray-and-pink backpack over his shoulder and didn't look bothered at all to be toting around something so feminine, and he even carried Margot's minky blanket and stuffed Rays bear so he could hand it to her in the car seat.

If I were dating, Lincoln would be the perfect man. He's so loyal, the way he comes to Mila's bakery truck every day to support a friend in her business. He's also gentle and kind, with none of the fake charm that pours off every good-looking actor in Hollywood, especially That One Guy. He's so careful about everything he says, like he's thinking about every word, that I know he's genuine. There's also a feeling in my gut that says he's the real deal, but I'm not sure I can trust that gut again so soon. Even if I believe it.

I huff and then roll over, looking at my watch and then glaring at the time. Two a.m. I can't afford to miss sleep like this. I'm a single mom, for heaven's sake. There won't be an after-work nap for me if I can't sleep tonight. I sigh and roll over again, staring back at the ceiling again before closing my eyes and squeezing them shut.

It doesn't help that I picture myself all snuggled up to Lincoln the minute my eyes are closed again. Maybe if I just lean into it and accept the daydream, I'll fall asleep faster. I let myself imagine him kissing the top of my head, and me looking up at him and smiling contentedly. I don't know if it's because I'm an actor or what, but this scene is easy to recreate in my head. I snuggle down into my pillow a little more and even give a soft sigh when I picture Margot, in a few months, toddling up to us and reaching up her hands to Lincoln. He scoops her up with his free arm and pulls her in close.

That was the picture of the future I'd had when I first found out I was pregnant—well after I'd stopped hyperventilating. And obviously a different man had played the part of the devoted dad. But that's exactly what You Know Who had done. He had played a part, and when he hadn't liked that part anymore, he'd walked away.

Picturing myself with Lincoln already brings a certain peace with it that had always been missing from my relationship with Margot's father. There had been too many nerves and too much guessing with him.

In my mind, I empty the room around us at Eli's, and then I change it up altogether. I picture a small, cozy couch here. That seems silly, since if anything happened between me and Lincoln, we'd probably spend more time at his more spacious place. But I've never been there, and I don't know what it looks like. Besides, it's kind of cute thinking about him wanting to be here with me and Margot, small and simple as it is.

I smile again … and finally drift off.

On Wednesday morningbefore the truck opens for the day, a police officer meets Mila, Astrid, me, and Lincoln to talk to us all. When he'd called Mila after she made the report yesterday morning, he'd told her he thought it would be best to have us all together, so that meant early because of Lincoln's practice schedule.

Officer Brady isn't the type of guy that TV shows are modeled after. He's not ugly and fat or anything. He's just kind of plain, on the shorter side (especially standing next to Lincoln), with light brown hair that keeps falling into his face as he speaks to us.

"Only Mr. Knight has been targeted?" he asks after Mila explains what happened.

"It seems like it," Mila says, rubbing her hands together. Then she stuffs them into the pockets of her wide-leg linen pants. "We closed down for several days the first time, but no one reported food poisoning like Lincoln's friends did. My fiancé has a friend at the college who tested the cookies and found arsenic on them. Just a tiny bit, enough to make someone sick. We thought it was just a prank."

"Arsenic." The officer's eyebrows jump as he looks between Mila and Lincoln.

"Yeah." Mila nods. "I'm sure Dillon can give you the report or whatever. Lincoln and my fiancé took one of the cookies Lincoln bought Monday over to him Monday night. If you need some for evidence or something?—"

"I have one more left," Lincoln offers. "You can come by my house this evening to get it if you want."

"I'll do that," Officer Brady says. He looks enthusiastically at Lincoln. I have a feeling that someone answered Mila's report so quickly because of who the target is. Officer Brady hands a card to Mila. "Have your friend copy me in on what he finds in that report. Now—" He looks between Mila and Lincoln. "—is there anyone either of you can think of that would want to hurt you? Someone might be using such a high-profile target to bring down your business, Ms. Dash."

She shakes her head. "Nothing that jumps to mind. Sometimes other food truck owners get annoyed with me for parking near them, but I only do that when there are a lot of food trucks parked together."

"Mila's is always the most popular," I point out. "Everyone loves her desserts, so there are food truck owners that could be jealous and want to shut her down."

Officer Brady jots something in his notebook. "Why don't you make a list of the regular places you park so I can question people?"

"I can do that," Mila says.

"And you, Mr. Knight? Is it well known that you frequent the bakery truck?" Officer Brady asks.

Lincoln's cheeks redden, and I can't help but lay a hand on his arm. He's a good guy, and he shouldn't feel bad for helping Mila with her business.

"He's a loyal friend to Mila," I jump in. I don't want Lincoln to feel uncomfortable for being a good guy. "So he comes a lot, and people notice him, of course."

Mila coughs, and I look over at her, raising an eyebrow. She avoids my gaze and turns back to Officer Brady. She's holding back a smile. She's been so worried about someone using her truck to hurt Lincoln that I can't believe she finds any of this funny, so what's going on? Maybe she really believes that crazy talk that Astrid started about Lincoln coming to the truck for me. It's just the kind of ridiculous notion that Mila would latch on to. The thing is, after Dear Old Disappearing Dad broke up with her, she found her happily ever after—her food truck and Landon. When the jerk broke up with me, he left me with a healthy dose of reality. Sure, Margot is uber cute and I wouldn't take back my actions for a second if it meant not getting her, but being a single mom is hard. And I have a solid support group.

Officer Brady glances at Mila but turns his attention back to Lincoln. "Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt you?"

He shrugs. "Honestly, no. But my agent and the PR department at the Rays would know better. They don't tell me about hate mail unless I need to be careful about something, and that's only happened once since I came to LA."

"No weird calls or emails to your personal account?" Officer Brady asks.

Lincoln shakes his head.

"Okay," Officer Brady continues. "I'll check in with your manager and the Rays and see if they can give me a list. I don't think our perpetrator is anyone violent, given the means they've employed so far. Probably a woman, would be my guess."

Astrid gasps next to me, but I swallow back a laugh. This is crime show 101. Women are the poisoners. It doesn't make Officer Brady particularly brilliant.

He glances over the whole group. "No one has noticed anyone lurking around or anything?"

We all shake our heads, but it's always so busy that I don't know if I would notice if someone snuck into the truck.

"It's more likely that someone is tampering with the desserts after Mr. Knight picks them up here, since no one else seems to be affected." He zeroes in on Lincoln again. "You haven't had anyone strange approach you after buying the desserts?"

"People stop me for autographs, so I guess that's possible, but I'm usually in a hurry. I try not to get waylaid when I come here in the mornings." Lincoln's cheeks are still red, and I wish I could wrap my arms around him so he knows how great he is.

Officer Brady asks us a few more questions and then assures us he'll follow up on every lead possible. He turns to go, and Mila and Astrid move into the truck to start getting ready for the day. I can hear the murmurs of at least a few people already waiting on the other side of the truck, but I want to reassure Lincoln before I go in and help.

"Oh." Officer Brady turns around. "If we want to catch whoever's doing this, I would suggest you don't change your routine. Just make sure you have this friend of yours check anything before you eat it. And keep your eyes open. All of you." He nods at me, since I'm the only food truck employee still out here, and then walks away.

Once he's out of sight, I throw my arms around Lincoln's neck. He's startled, because he stands there for a few seconds before his arms come around my back.

And suddenly, this isn't the friendly hug I thought it was, because I'm caught up in his fresh shower smell and the clean, brisk scent of whatever bodywash or deodorant he uses. He rests his head on top of mine for a moment, and that daydream I have that keeps morphing makes me wish he'd kiss the top of my head like I was thinking about before I fell asleep the other night.

I don't want to step out of the hug, but it's gone on way past "friendly" territory, and Lincoln's going to think I'm angling for more than friendship with him if I don't come to my senses, so reluctantly I break the contact and step back. "I just wanted you to know that I think it's awesome you've supported Mila like this." I reach back up to put my hands on his arms and grip them. (And not just because I want to feel his biceps.)

His words come out in a sigh as he studies me. "Layla …"

"Lincoln, you're an awesome friend. Don't let people speculating about you coming to the food truck all the time make you feel weird. You're amazing."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Thanks, Layla. You're a pretty amazing friend yourself." He leans over and kisses me on the cheek before straightening and then waving at me as he jogs toward his Bronco.

I reach up and finger the spot his lips touched me, then shake myself. I have to get in there and help Mila, not stand out here and fangirl over a simple kiss.