I’d just slipped them on when Lincoln walked by, bending down to sort through his own clothes. I helped, knowing I’d absolutely played a part in tearing them off—which would remain a memory I’d replay over and over again.
We worked silently, neither daring to break the strange tension in the air. It was a stark difference from the teasing banter we’d so quickly become accustomed to. Even though I’d been ready to run, to hurry out of here before I could want anything more from Lincoln, I hated the way it felt.
We knew what came next, but that didn’t make walking away any easier.
Only when our hands accidentally brushed one another’s did we make eye contact, both half-dressed and disheveled. His dark eyes, which had been filled with heat and longing, had since grown guarded.
Had they been like that before and I’d somehow not noticed? I couldn’t remember them being that way when I walked throughthe door this evening, but maybe that was only because he was at work.
Lincoln broke contact first, standing tall with the remainder of his clothes in his hands. He got dressed in one corner while I occupied the other. The only sound was the soft croon of old country music from the antique jukebox and the shuffle of feet as we both slipped on our shoes.
Say something, you idiot! Say literally anything?—
“Need a hand cleaning up around here?” I asked, reaching into my purse for a large claw clip to put my hair up.
Lincoln turned around, staring at me from under furrowed brows. I understood his probable confusion because truth be told, I could match it. I’d just agreed with the voice in my head that it was time to go—the voice that tried to preserve what little dignity I had left—and yet now I was volunteering to stay.
He reached up, running a hand along the back of his neck. “There isn’t much to do but take out the trash and clean the floors. I took care of the rest earlier.”
“Ah,” I said, rocking back on my heels. God. Why was I so awkward? “Well, I could still help. I’ve cleaned so many floors in my life. You might even call me a professional.”
Lincoln chuckled. “Josie, it’s fine. I’m not under any impression this was anything more than two strangers sharing—” he blew out a breath and shook his head, “—a fucking phenomenal night together.”
My heart sank. “I mean, that makes sense, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you out. I’ve kept you up late, after all. If not for me, you’d be home in bed already.”
“You didn’t even want to give me your name.”
There was something about the way he said it that made my stomach clench. While I might not have regretted the game we played, or how he forced the letters from my lips in such a deliriously wicked way, I regretted not giving him my name sooner. Icould blame it on the alcohol, but it really stemmed from not wanting another broken heart so soon.
Not that I should be concerned with that since I was only here for a few days—a week, max.
I took a tentative step forward, waiting to see if he stopped me before I approached him. He leaned against the edge of the pool table with his arms crossed, watching every move I made with a cautious gaze.
Though the scent of sex hung in the air, remnants of his cologne clung to my clothing. The heady mixture of the two shouldn’t have been as alluring as it was, but I didn’t want to ever wash this shirt, so that I never forgot what he smelled like.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you my name from the get-go, but to be honest…” I blew out a breath. I’d purposely steered clear of anything involving Wyatt or why I’d driven to Tennessee on a whim when Lincoln had asked. But maybe it was time for a dash of vulnerability. “I came up to the mountains because I found my boyfriend balls deep in someone else less than forty-eight hours ago. My family has a cabin up here, though we don’t use it often.”
Lincoln cursed, drawing his brows tight. “What kind of idiot would cheat on you?”
The question stung more than I could say. I had answers at the ready from my years of self-loathing. Those didn’t even include the vicious retorts straight from the mouths of nearly all my exes. It’d never mattered if their criticisms weren’t valid or warranted; they’d stuck all the same.
I laughed, though it was hollow. “Oof, we don’t have enough time for me to list my many,manyflaws or backtrack through my tragic dating history. I have a bad habit of falling fast for all the wrong people.”
Lincoln uncrossed his arms, letting one knuckle rap against the oak table. “I don’t believe that.”
“Do you want references?” I asked, raising a brow. “I mean, I can give you a list of numbers to call?—”
“No,” he said, cutting me off. “I don’t give a shit what some jaded asshole has to say. Of course, he’ll find fault in you because he’s lost the best thing he’s ever had.”
“You don’t even know me,” I said.
The overwhelming urge to run was creeping in. He didn’t know me any more than I knew him. From our limited interaction, I assumed he was a good person, but not everyone showed their true colors from the start.
I knew I’d fallen prey to that trap more than once or twice.
“I know enough.”
“And what if I told you I snore? Would that be a deal breaker?”
