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“Sore?”

“Not much. Thanks to you insisting I take ibuprofen.”

“Oh, hon, did you fall?” Maggie asked, and Lincoln filled her in on my meeting with the boulder.

I was swept into the hustle and bustle of dinner with the Silver family. All the while, I tried not to stare too long at Lincoln. Asher and Grady started a card game of Slapjack, and I savored the way the family made it fun to cheer both of them along. Eventually, I made my way out to my office. There was always something to do.

My ex-friend would not stop texting, and I wanted to stay busy. She seemed to do it in rhythms. I’d given up blocking numbers because it was exhausting. I’d left the one where Lincoln had replied because it felt a little satisfying.

Except I was falling for Lincoln, and I knew I shouldn’t. It would be a disaster, right? Although I’d already had my rebound, my dusty boyfriend—the one who was kind of a loser, and expected me to take care of him—after I lost my best friend in the most painful way possible. As the theory says, that guy hadn’t worked out. But Lincoln wasn’t boyfriend material. He was just the deliver-er of the best orgasm I’d ever had. What did that even mean? So many things to overthink.

* * *

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* * *

Later that night, I took my bath. I did all the things to make myself feel better. I put on my favorite lotion, my softest robe, and my favorite fluffy socks, these warm pink fleece socks that felt so snuggly on my toes. I watched my favorite show and tried to go to sleep. Despite all of my efforts to soothe my distress, sleep taunted me with how out of reach it was.

With my thoughts churning in anxiety, I made my way in my fluffy socks down the hallway to the kitchen, tightening the belt on my robe. I mentally insisted to myself I wasn’t hoping to run into Lincoln. But maybe he couldn’t sleep again. Maybe?

After making my hot cocoa, I went to my office. It was better than lying in my bed rethinking all the things I’d never noticed for years when I was with my ex. At least, I’d found out.

“Before she had the baby,” I whispered to myself at the little table in my office.

I let out a sharp breath, startled at the sound of a voice. On the heels of a squeak, my eyes whipped up to see Lincoln standing in the doorway to my office, his shoulder leaning against the frame, his eyes locking to mine instantly.

“I didn’t hear you,” I exclaimed, my palm flying to my chest.

“Clearly,” he said, the low, gruff tone of his voice sending goosebumps rising in a wave all across my skin.

“Can’t sleep again?” He nodded toward my hot cocoa on the table. For reasons I didn’t understand, whenever I worked in my office in the middle of the night, I sat at the round table beside my desk instead of at my desk.

I took a quick breath and nodded. “Obviously not. Same goes for you, huh?”

He chuckled, and my belly did a little pirouette. “Should I make you some hot cocoa?” I asked, my urge to be helpful overriding my sanity.

He shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Would you like to sit down?” I gestured to the chair across from me. He dipped his chin in acknowledgement and took the few steps into my office, which suddenly felt very small. Lincoln was a big man. I didn’t know exactly how tall he was, but he was the tallest of the brothers. I guessed maybe six foot three, and before I could think better of it I asked, “How tall are you?”

He sat down, resting an elbow on the table, his lips kicking up at one corner, my belly doing a cartwheel. “Six three.”

I beamed, ridiculously pleased with myself. One dark brow rose as he studied me. “Good guess,” he teased lightly.

I swallowed, my pulse rampaging and my hormones behaving as if they were at a concert with their favorite rock star, in this case Lincoln. His presence was so potent, at least for me. Aside from the height, he was all strong and sturdy, his hands roughened and big like the rest of him, and now I knew exactly how they felt on my body.

Focus, Chloe, focus, I ordered myself.

“What’s keeping you up tonight, Chloe?” he asked softly.

Emotion rose abruptly inside, and I ordered myself not to cry. My eyes were hot with the subtle sting of tears threatening, but I took a slow breath and held it together.

“Who is texting you?” he asked. “Am I allowed to ask?”

I let a breath out, blowing my bangs up. “What’s keeping you awake tonight?” I hedged.

He was quiet for a beat. “Like I mentioned, ever since the fire, I have trouble sleeping sometimes.”