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Even after two years of being together and nearly six months of marriage, Imogen still felt a little flutter in her chest when she saw him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that was always slightly disheveled and warm eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Today he wore jeans and a heavy canvas jacket, and he carried a to-go bag from The Snowdrift Diner in one hand.

“Lincoln!” Katie ran to him, and he caught her easily, lifting her up for a quick hug before setting her back down.

“Hey, Katie-bug. Ready to learn some new moves on the ice?”

“So ready!” she exclaimed brightly.

Lincoln’s gaze shifted to Imogen, and his smile softened. He came behind the counter and kissed her, his lips warm despite the cold he’d brought in with him. “Hi,” he murmured against her mouth.

“Hi yourself,” Imogen replied, unable to keep from smiling.

He pulled back slightly, holding up the to-go bag. “Did you have lunch? I brought you a cheeseburger from the diner. I know how you get when the shop is busy—you forget to eat.”

The moment he said “cheeseburger,” Imogen felt her stomach roll in protest, overwhelming the warmth in her chest at the fact that Lincoln always remembered that she had a tendency to forget to eat. She caught a whiff of the smell coming from the bag—grease and cheese and cooked meat—and had to actively suppress the urge to gag. She forced her smile to stay in place, although it felt slightly strained.

“That’s sweet of you,” she said, taking the bag from him even though the thought of eating what was inside made her feel worse. “I’m not too hungry right now, but I’ll nibble on it in a bit.”

Lincoln’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes searching her face. “Are you all right? You look a little⁠—”

“I’m fine,” Imogen interrupted, perhaps a bit too quickly. She softened her tone, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Really, I’m just a bit overtired, I think. I have a lot to do here, and I’m a little behind schedule. But I still want Katie to go skating with you. She’s been looking forward to it all day.”

Lincoln studied her for another moment, clearly not entirely convinced, but he didn’t push. “All right,” he said finally. He turned to Katie. “Let’s go then, Katie-bug. Rink’s waiting. Meet you in the truck?”

“Okay!” Katie darted toward the shop’s front door, her excitement palpable.

Lincoln turned back to Imogen, lowering his voice. “You’re sure you’re okay? You’ve seemed a little off the past couple days.”

“Have I?” Imogen tried to think back. Maybe she had been more tired than usual. And now that she thought about it, she’d felt vaguely queasy yesterday morning too, although it had passed by afternoon. “I’m probably just working too hard,” she said, which was at least partially true. “December is always crazy.”

“Maybe you should close early today,” Lincoln suggested. “Come skating with us. A little exercise and a few spins on the ice might brighten you up.”

The word spin made her feel vaguely nauseous again. Still, the idea was tempting, but Imogen shook her head. “I really do have orders to fill. The Johnsons need their party favors by tomorrow, and I promised Mrs. Aveyard that I’d have her gift baskets ready by five.”

“Lincoln, come on,” Katie called, popping her head back in the door. “The ice is gonna melt.”

Lincoln and Imogen both chuckled. “I promise it won’t,” Lincoln called back, before leaning down to kiss Imogen’s forehead. “At least eat the burger, okay? And if you’re still feeling off tonight, maybe we should⁠—”

“I’ll be fine,” Imogen assured him. “Go. Have fun. Teach our girl how to skate backward.”

“Our girl,” Lincoln repeated softly, and something warm passed between them. He squeezed her hand once more, then turned to Katie. “Let’s go, Katie-bug. The ice awaits!”

Katie cheered, and the two of them headed for the door, Katie chattering excitedly about all the tricks she wanted to learn. Lincoln glanced back once, concern still evident in his eyes, but Imogen waved and smiled, and finally they were gone, the bell chiming cheerfully behind them.

The moment they left, Imogen’s smile faded. She set the to-go bag on the counter and stared at it like it might bite her. The smell was stronger now, and her stomach churned ominously. She pushed the bag to the far end of the counter, as far away from her as possible.

What was going on with her?

She sank onto the stool behind the register, pressing both hands to her stomach. The queasiness hadn’t gotten worse, but it hadn’t gotten better either. It was just… there. Persistent and annoying and completely unlike her. She rarely got sick. She definitely couldn’t afford to be sick right now, not during the busiest season of the year.

Maybe she was coming down with something. A stomach bug, maybe. Or maybe she’d eaten something that didn’t agree with her. Although she couldn’t think of what—she hadn’t eaten anything unusual lately.

The bell above the door chimed again, pulling her from her thoughts. Imogen looked up, automatically arranging her features into a welcoming expression, and saw a woman she didn’t recognize entering the shop.

The woman was striking—tall and slim, with blonde hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail and sharp blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. She wore a charcoal gray coat that looked expensive, dark jeans, and boots that were practical but stylish. Definitely a tourist, Imogen thought as she stood up, swiftly moving the lunch bag beneath the register counter. It was then that she saw the professional-looking camera in the woman’s hand and a sleek leather tote on her shoulder. Absolutely a tourist.

“Welcome to Artisan Chocolates,” Imogen said with a smile. “Is there anything I can get for you, or do you just want to take a look around?”

The woman approached the counter with a polite, but somewhat reserved smile. “Thank you. And just looking for now. This is a lovely shop.”