The conversation rolled from there, quick and noisy, the way it always did with this group. Nora and Kipp were already leaning close together, whispering like newlyweds even after all these years. Fallon was plotting karaoke, Griffin groaning whileElle swore, she’d drag him up no matter what. Ryder and Lexie were talking trash about who could hold a pool cue straight.
I sipped my drink and let myself get swept along. Warmth spread through me, soft and manageable. For a few minutes, the noise didn’t hurt. It felt safe. Like family.
But every time the door opened, every time cold air rushed in, and boots hit the scuffed wood floor, my head turned before I could stop it.
Looking for him.
Lincoln.
I hated that my pulse jumped just thinking of his name. Hated that my lips still tingled from the kiss behind the chutes. That I could still feel the heat of his hands on my waist like a phantom brand. I hadn’t even realized I was staring at the door again until Fallon nudged me with her elbow.
“You’re distracted.”
My head whipped toward her. “What?”
She grinned. “Honey, you’ve been watching that door like you ordered something off the menu. Spill it.”
Elle leaned over the table, her eyes bright with amusement. “It’s Lincoln, isn’t it?”
Heat flooded my face. “No,” I said too quickly.
That earned me a round of knowing looks. Nash chuckled low, shaking his head. “Well, that explains why he nearly put three cowboys in the dirt tonight.”
My stomach dropped. “You saw that?”
“Everybody saw it,” Nash smirked. “Man was ready to commit homicide behind the chutes.”
“Protective,” Griffin added, taking a long pull from his beer. “Borderline territorial.”
“Borderline?” Fallon laughed. “Please. He looked one second away from growling.”
The table broke into laughter, but my face felt like it was on fire. I ducked my head, pretending to study the melting ice in my glass. The whiskey sour wasn’t strong enough for this conversation.
Then the door creaked open again. Cool air swept through the room, lifting the hair at the back of my neck.
Lincoln stepped in.
My heart kicked like a horse under the saddle.
He looked rougher than anyone else in the place, broad shoulders under a worn denim jacket, stubble shadowing his jaw, that steady, dangerous stillness that made people get out of his way without knowing why. But when his eyes found me, everything else blurred.
I forgot how to breathe.
Fallon followed my gaze and made a low sound that was all trouble. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”
Lincoln didn’t come straight over. He stopped near the bar where Lydia was working, said something that made her grin and reach for a bottle. He leaned against the counter, whispering while Faith passed behind him with a tray of beers, patting his arm like they’d known each other forever.
Even in a crowd like this, he drew eyes. He didn’t do anything for attention; he just had that presence that made people aware of him. I felt it in my chest, in the air itself, like gravity had shifted.
Fallon leaned close again, voice dropping. “You’ve got it bad.”
“Stop.” I meant it, but my voice was too soft, and it only made her grin wider.
Elle propped her chin on her hand, studying me. “He looks like trouble tonight.”
“He is,” I said before I could stop myself.
“Best kind,” Fallon said, lifting her glass in a mock toast.
