Lincoln's Park Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  More from Parker Williams

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  About the Author

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  Copyright

  Lincoln’s Park

  By Parker Williams

  A Links In the Chain Story

  Lincoln Merriweather was born an entitled brat with a silver spoon lodged so deep, it might never have come out. At the BDSM club or in business, Lincoln was a storm, blowing in and disrupting the lives of everyone he touched, until the day he met a man who peeled away the tarnished layers to expose a decent person.

  Lincoln found—then lost—love.

  Since then, he’s tried to atone for his past, including walking away from his family’s wealth. He opened a diner, hiring people to work for him that he would have spit on before his epiphany. He’s found peace, which he’s about to lose to a hazel-eyed man.

  Noel Simmons wound up on the street when his parents discovered he was gay. His path leads him to Lincoln’s diner, where he asks for a job. He’s thrilled when Lincoln agrees to hire him, but finds his new boss perplexing. Can anyone be this kind and decent?

  What starts out as business becomes something more. Noel discovers he needs Lincoln in order to feel safe. Lincoln needs Noel to complete him. But when Lincoln’s past gets in the way of his present, will the two have a future?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’D LIKE to take a moment to say thank you to some amazing people!

  Becky Condit, Mary Phillips Wallace, EM Denning, Hannah Walker, LM Somerton, Mary Calmes, Sheena J. Himes, Cate Ashwood, and, of course, K.C. Wells. They give me feedback, let me know when they think something is good or doesn’t work, and never, ever let me think I can’t do it.

  To my husband, Paul… thank you for your limitless patience, your willingness to let me read to you, and for fixing me food when I’m in the zone.

  And to my mom, who tells me she likes my writing and doesn’t understand where it comes from, since she has problems with a grocery list.

  CHAPTER ONE

  LINCOLN MERRIWEATHER leaned over the counter, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn spot. It might have been dried egg from Gary, seeing as how he could be kind of a slob, and he’d sat there earlier in the morning. Either way, he tipped well, seemed to love the food, and was always good for a story about the good old days, back before the gentrification of the surrounding area brought in the yuppies, preppies, and according to Gary, other undesirable elements.

  It didn’t matter to Lincoln. He loved the place. It was a balm for his battered soul. He got a great sense of accomplishment every day he opened, and it carried him through until close, when he dragged his tired ass upstairs and crawled into the tub.

  A quick check of the sunrise chicken clock on the wall told Linc that the lunch rush should be starting soon. He finally got the gunk off, pleased that the counter gleamed enough to show the fading mottled yellow bruise from where the tweaker had punched him after coming in just before closing. Linc had put too much faith in his chances to talk the guy down, which got him a vicious right hook in the face. He’d gotten back up, ready to show the hopped-up guy why the Park View wasn’t the place to start a fight, but was saved from an assault charge when Greg came in, hoping to snag a cup of coffee before his shift. He’d arrested the asshole and dragged him out of the diner, kicking and screaming all the way.

  Oh, and Greg had earned himself free coffee for life.

  The ancient brass bell above the door gave a melodious ding, and Linc stood, ready to welcome his first customer of the afternoon. He wasn’t prepared for the young man who entered. The air rushed from Lincoln’s lungs, and he found himself temporarily speechless.

  “Hi….” The man’s eyes darted around the place, taking in the checkered booths and wooden tabletops. Lincoln prided himself on the authentic ’70s feel of the place, right down to the little jukeboxes on each table.

  Lincoln had to pull himself back to business mode. “Welcome to the Park View. Table or booth?”

  A frown marred the man’s delicate features. Lincoln decided a face that pretty should never be sad. The hazel eyes and shoulder-length blond hair framed a soft face with rich, full pink lips that needed to be kissed until they were puffy and swollen with passion.

  When an answer wasn’t forthcoming, Lincoln peered at the man. He guessed the guy was in his midtwenties. The clothes he wore weren’t anything special, and they did seem a little tattered. Especially the faded blue jean jacket he wore. The cuffs were frayed, and a tear in the sleeve showed pale skin. The worst of his outfit, though? His shoes. A large, gaping hole in the right one allowed Lincoln to see the big toe poking out of it.

  Lincoln waved his hand in front of the guy’s face. “Sir?”

  “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t come to eat. I was hoping you might….” The guy swallowed, and Lincoln was fascinated by the lean curve to his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed. Was the guy a panhandler? If so, Lincoln would be happy to give him all the money in his wallet, because everything in him screamed that this man needed to be wrapped up and cared for. The thought surprised Lincoln, as it had been years since he’d had a similar one. He’d had more than his fair share of bed partners, but they were one-night things, no strings attached. He wasn’t a romantic by any means—unless romance meant slapping your partner’s ass and telling him to lift it higher—but this guy? He wasn’t someone to fuck and forget.

  “Hoping I might…? Go on. What were you hoping for?”

  The man sighed and balled his fists. “I need a job.” Before Lincoln could say anything, the man continued, speaking so fast, Linc leaned against the counter just so he could hear the gentle voice. “I can wash floors, do dishes, maybe serve food. I can do anything you need.”

  “Can you cook?”

  The man’s chin dipped to his chest. “No, sir.”

  Lincoln liked the way the sir sounded coming from this guy. He was deferential to the point of obsequiousness. Lincoln wondered what the man would be like in bed, all spread out, his wrists secured to the bedposts, giving Lincoln permission to do what he wanted.

  “What’s your name?”

  The guy looked up, and Lincoln could see the hope in his eyes. He’d probably expected to be dismissed immediately. “Noel Simmons.”

  Lincoln stepped forward and held out his hand. “Lincoln Merriweather. You’re welcome to call me Linc or Lincoln. I answer to either.”

  Noel’s grip was firm, his hand warm and just a tad damp. He must have realized it, because he pulled back and wiped his hand on his pant leg. “I’m sorry. I—”

  Lincoln chuckled. “Relax. It’s not a big deal. Why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk about you working for me.”

  “Really?” A red tinge crept up Noel’s
neck. “I mean, thank you, sir.” He took a seat at the counter, his gaze darting around. Lincoln liked the fact that even after being told he could call him by name, Noel still used sir.

  Lincoln picked up a copy of the laminated menu and held it out to Noel. “This is our lunch menu.”

  Without a word, Noel took it and began to read.

  Lincoln stepped into the kitchen and did a little prep work. He glanced over at Noel through the large, open serving window. He seemed nervous, twitchy.

  After a few moments, Lincoln called out, “What’ll you have?”

  Noel’s eyes went wide. “Oh, I don’t have any—I mean, I’m not really hungry.”

  Lincoln grabbed the spatula and came back to the front. “Okay, here’s the first thing you need to know. I don’t like being lied to. As long as you work for me, if I ask you a question, I expect an immediate and honest answer. Do I make myself clear?”

  Noel swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, what would you like to eat?”

  Noel dropped his gaze. “I can’t afford it.”

  Lincoln figured that was the reason. “Meals come with the job. You get something for each shift you work. Also, we pay twelve dollars an hour for bus help and dishwashers. If you’re a server, you make six bucks, plus you keep your tips.”

  He realized he didn’t need the help. Katy came in to cover mornings, Josh handled lunch, and Tyler worked the evenings, plus there was Jesse, who filled in shifts so the rest could have days off. Lincoln did all the cooking, and he washed the dishes before he finished for the night. The diner could get crazy busy but was pretty easy to handle. True, it was worse on some nights, especially if there was a block party or something going on in the area, though generally it wasn’t too much to handle. But Noel needed a job and was obviously pretty desperate. So if Lincoln could help out, he would.

  “Could I have a grilled cheese sandwich?”

  Lincoln smiled. “Sure. With french fries or onion rings?”

  Noel’s eyes went wide. “I love onion rings.”

  “Then you should like these. I make them myself.”

  Lincoln left Noel with the menu and went back into the kitchen. He buttered two slices of Texas toast, laid them out on the grill, and put down a piece of cheddar, a slab of Monterey Jack, and a thick slice of tomato.

  “Noel?”

  His head bobbed up. “Yes, sir?”

  “Do you like bacon?”

  “Oh, I don’t….”

  “If you do, you’re going to love this stuff. It’s peppered, and cooked up nice and crisp. It’ll take your sandwich to a whole new level.”

  Noel licked his lips. “Okay, if you have extra, I could try it.”

  Lincoln chuckled and added four strips to the sandwich. While that grilled, he threw a few handfuls of onion rings into the fryer, loving the sizzling sound they made as they cooked.

  In no time at all, Linc had plated a beautiful golden brown grilled cheese and a double portion of onion rings, garnished with a dill pickle spear. He picked up the plate, ready to take it out, when the bell went off, making Lincoln aware of new customers. He was surprised when Noel’s voice rolled in, clear as a bell.

  “Welcome to the Park View. Would you like a table or a booth? If you prefer, you’re welcome to sit at the counter.”

  Lincoln smiled at the enthusiasm in Noel’s voice. He stepped out front and found a woman with two teens taking a booth near the window. Noel grabbed three menus, took them over, and handed them out with a flourish. He turned and froze when he saw Lincoln, plate in hand, and his eyes went wide.

  He hurried back to the counter and sat down. “I’m sorry.”

  Lincoln put the plate down. “For what? Taking some initiative?”

  “I should have asked first.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Eat. It’ll make you feel better.”

  Noel glanced at the sandwich, then pushed the plate away.

  Lincoln cocked his head. It seemed like Noel was going to cry. “What are you doing?”

  “I should… I should go.”

  “Your shift hasn’t even started. How are you going to go? Or, better question, why do you want to leave?”

  “I forgot about my clothes. I’m not dressed to be any help at all.”

  It wasn’t exactly true. With the torn jeans and the tattered shoes, Noel might look scruffy, but he could help bus tables or wash dishes. Despite the fact Noel appeared rather scruffy, he’d stepped up and been proactive. Lincoln had no reason to hold his overzealousness against him. Noel could simply pick up some new—

  Then it hit him.

  “Noel, would you have money to get new clothes?”

  Noel shook his head, his hair rustling. “It’s why you probably don’t want me to work here.”

  Linc chastised himself for not thinking about it until after he’d told Noel he could have the job. It wouldn’t keep him from hiring Noel, though. It simply meant they needed to address the problem.

  Linc reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet. He pulled out two hundred dollars and handed it to Noel, who eyed the money with an incredulous expression. “Buy yourself some clothes. Nothing flashy, because they won’t last. You’re going to be dealing with a lot of greasy food and will probably need new gear in a few months. Get at least four pair of pants, socks, definitely shoes, and probably eight shirts. You’ll have to make sure you wash them, because they…. Shit. Noel, where are you living?”

  Noel swallowed and scuffed at a spot on his shoe. “I’ve been staying at the shelter over on Tenth. I do some odd jobs for them in exchange for them letting me sleep there and giving me a place to wash up.”

  The idea that Noel was sleeping in a shelter didn’t sit well with Lincoln at all. He wanted to ask more questions, but the bell rang again, and Lincoln knew it was about to get busy. “Eat. You’re going to need your strength.”

  “Are you sure? I can go if—”

  Lincoln crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Noel. “Eat your damn food. If I wanted you to leave, I would have told you. I’m not one to give you mixed messages. I will tell you exactly what I want you to do and when it needs to be done. Do I make myself clear?”

  Noel’s spine straightened. “Yes, sir.”

  Lincoln reached out and ruffled Noel’s hair. “Good. Now, hurry up. It’s going to be wall-to-wall people in a few minutes, and I’m going to need you to bus the tables as soon as they leave. There’s a tub under the counter. You grab it, go to the table, put all the dirty dishes in there—stacked neatly so nothing breaks—then wipe the table down so it’s ready for the next customers. If you have any questions, you can come to me. Josh should be here in a few minutes to serve, so I’ll be in the back cooking. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.”

  Lincoln turned and washed his hands, then grabbed a paper towel from the roll over the sink and dried them. He picked up the menus and went to get lunch started. From the corner of his eye, he saw Noel finish his sandwich, then place his plate and fork in the bin before he wiped down the counter. Lincoln smiled to himself at Noel’s enthusiasm. This could work out just fine.

  LUNCH HAD been hell. Josh never called, never showed, and Lincoln was done with him. He’d pulled that shit too many times, always with the excuse of oversleeping or not feeling well. When he came back and acted as though he’d done nothing wrong, Lincoln would ask why he hadn’t called to let Lincoln know, and Josh would just grin and shrug. Well, no more. He left a message on Josh’s cell to let him know that he would need to talk to his sponsor and he’d receive his last check in the mail.

  Noel had been amazing. He stepped up to help, no questions asked. No table sat empty for more than a minute or two before he rushed over and cleaned it off. He even took the napkin holders, sugar caddy, and salt and pepper shakers off before he wiped it all down. When lunch ended, he grabbed a broom and swept the floor. The kid was a dervish, seemingly everywhere at once. Lincoln was tired from s
imply watching him.

  “I’m done with the floor. What else can I do?”

  Lincoln turned to find a smiling Noel standing beside him. As he had been warned, his clothes were even worse than when he’d come in. He looked adorable, though. His hair was mussed like he’d been woken up, but his eyes were bright, and Noel was practically bouncing on his heels.

  “You can sit down and take a break. We probably won’t have too many people showing up until dinner. Did you have a good first day?”

  “Yeah, it was great. I put your tip money in a cup under the register.”

  Lincoln wasn’t surprised by Noel’s honesty. He was taken aback when Noel’s brows furrowed.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Lincoln scrubbed at the grates on the grill. “Of course. You can always ask me questions if you’re confused about something.”

  The crease in Noel’s forehead deepened. “How did you know I wouldn’t just take the money you gave me and run away?”

  That wasn’t a hard thing to answer. “You’re not the type. Everything about you says you’re honest and hardworking. Was I taking a chance giving it to you?” Lincoln shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe. But I like to think I’m a good judge of character.”

  “I wouldn’t ever screw you over.” Noel sounded so sincere, Lincoln’s heart ached.

  “I know, pup, believe me.”

  The word was out of his mouth before Lincoln could take it back. He wasn’t sure if Noel was as submissive as he seemed, but Lincoln didn’t want to make any assumptions. Still, the word suited Noel, who appeared exceptionally eager to please.

  “So, listen. About your living arrangements…. What if I offered to let you stay here?”

  Noel went pale. “Here? But I can’t—”

  Lincoln put down the abrasive brick he was using to scrape the grill and held up a hand. “We’d call it room and board. You’d still get paid, but you get a safer place to sleep. Plus, you’d be there if I needed help like I did today. You were a godsend. With Josh blowing me off again, I’m going to need someone to serve tables at lunch.”