But the second he’d pulled me against his strong chest, I never wanted to leave. Lincoln’s chest smelled like coffee and citrus. And I imagined he tasted that way too.
I shut my eyes, releasing a long breath that would hopefully help me draw my thoughts back to something more appropriate.
“Detour,” he said.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. When the loud vibration of the truck stopped, I cracked an eye open. We were parked in front of a drugstore.
Lincoln dropped his keys in my lap. “Be right back.”
As soon as he left, I took out my phone and navigated to my chat with Link.
My gaze fell on Lincoln’s phone in the center console. If I texted Link right now, would it light up? Had I imagined all of these connections? Were they coincidences?
Wishful thinking. That was it. Because if Lincoln was my Link, it would mean he knew me on a level deeper than anyone else, and it would mean he stayed anyway.
I glanced at his phone and, with trembling fingers, typed out a message.
@pancakesareelite:
I’m really, really scared of meeting you.
My eyes were fixed on his screen as I hit send.
Nothing happened.
I lifted his phone and touched the unlock button, but the screenstayed black. My head rolled back, and I grumbled. It must have died.
Lincoln returned, and I dropped his phone back in the console. His wide eyes and red cheeks made a smile curl onto my mouth.What did he buy?
He climbed in and handed me the large paper bag, grimacing.
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
“A little,” he replied. “Most of that stuff is for you.” He started the truck and zoomed back onto the main road.
I opened the bag to reveal plastic wrapping and little cardboard boxes of every color. Pads. Tampons. Every size. Every brand. Scented. Unscented. Wings. No wings. Thin. Thick. Maxi. Night. “Did you buy the entire aisle?” I couldn’t control the giggle even if I tried.
“Maybe,” he said with an awkward chuckle. “I didn’t know what you might need. I also got… um… ibuprofen and chocolate.”
Lincoln Carden was the most perfect man to ever exist. Even though he couldn’t look at me while discussing period products.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Come on, Lily. Don’t cry in front of him. Not again.
After successfully getting my emotions under control, we pulled up to the cabin where the construction manager and his assistant had been staying. Lincoln climbed out first. I opened my door before he got to me and swung myself out, landing on the foot I was sure wasn’t injured. I tested the other foot tentatively, and a pinch of pain lingered. It didn’t seem too bad. Maybe I didn’t need to be carried.
Even if I wanted to be.
“Don’t put pressure on it. I can… uh…” He glanced away and rubbed a large hand across the back of his neck.
“It’s fine, I’m fine,” I said, and limped inside.
A deep frown embedded itself onto his handsome face and his breath struggled while Luis, the construction manager, gave us a tour of the small cabin.
It was a cozy two-bedroom cabin with one bathroom and a large living room with a fireplace and open-plan kitchen. It wasn’t unlike the cabins I’d visited for quiet holidays away from LA.
But knowing we’d be sharing it, alone, in a few days made it feel tiny.
