But I know Milton and Korbin don’t sign. Does Lincoln understand? I quickly turn to him.
“Sorry, babe. I only got please. I don’t know what else you said.”
I reach into my purse and pull out my phone and open the note app and type.
Wine. Please.
Milton moves over beside me, taking my phone from my hands and tapping out a response.
White or red?
He hands it back to me.
White.
I hold up the phone, turning the screen toward him.
“On it, Beautiful.” He stands and rushes off to the kitchen. The whole time Korbin is just staring at me. I scoot closer to Lincoln, needing to have his scent on me. To feel him close to me.
I rest my head on his shoulder as his arm slips around me. His other hand finds mine as he rubs his fingers across mine.
Each touch is intimate, but caring. Never pushing for more than I’m willing to give.
A few minutes later, Milton returns with a glass of wine and three bottles of beer in hand. He hands a beer to Korbin and Lincoln and then hands me my wine before sitting down next to me. I can’t help but smile at how close he sits, even though there’s plenty of space.
My eyes lock with his, and he speaks.
“Here you go. I can see why Lincoln’s learning sign language. I’m going to check into that class too,” Milton says slowly, my eyes following the words dripping from his lips.
I quickly type a message on my phone, feeling Lincoln’s breath on my neck as he leans in closer to see what I’m typing.
Yeah. It would be quicker than having to type, show you, give you the phone, erase my message then type again. Not to mention, it would be easier when we’re all together.
I don’t know why I mentioned the part about us all being together. It just feels right being here with the three of them. A piece of me wonders if they feel that way too.
“There’s my girl. I knew you had a fiery side to complement your sweet, caring one.” Milton tosses me a wink, and I can feel the heat creep up my neck straight to my face.
It was such a ridiculous attempt at humor that I let out a broken laugh—just an exhale, really, but enough for Milton to grin triumphantly.
“I knew…liked… best,” he murmurs, his lips not forming each word clearly, so I only understood bits of what he’s saying. I cock my head to the side as my brows pull together in confusion.
Picking up my phone, I type quickly, but once again Lincoln, being nosy, reads my message as I write it. He places his hand on mine as he tilts my head toward him.
“I got this. I’ll tell him.”
He leans forward and reaches across me with his arm before smacking Milton playfully against the head. He turns his head toward me, so I can see what he says, even though his words are directed at Milton. Maybe even Korbin.
“Speak clearly, Numbnuts. If you mumble, look away, speak too fast or not clearly, she can’t understand.”
Milton reaches out, his hand cradling my cheek as he turns my head to face him.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try hard not to screw up again. If I do, just smack me.” Milton drops to the floor in front of me with adramatic groan, but making sure he’s facing me and speaking clearly. “Don’t mind me, just doing my nightly stretching routine. Super athletic. Very impressive.”
He doesn’t stretch a single muscle. Instead, he rests his forearms on the edge of the couch near my knees—close enough I can feel his steady warmth as his grapefruit scent envelops me.
It grounds me.
But not just his scent. All three of theirs.
