All I wanted was to get a quick dinner and spend the night wallowing in my dingy motel room. Seeing Lincoln perched on a stool in a dark corner of the bar was a shot to my system.
Once our eyes locked, I knew I couldn’t hide from him. I quickly decided I was just going to face him head-on. It wasn’t the first time I’d been friend-zoned, and it wouldn’t be the last.
As it turned out, our conversation was easy, natural almost. Though I felt a tingle every time I heard Lincoln’s deep laugh—it rumbled through me and a warmth spread down between my legs. I tried to push those warm feelings away. He agreed that we could be friends . . . We even shook on it.
But damn. He looked so delicious. There was something about his dark, moody, scruffy exterior that just worked for me. It worked for the majority of the women in the bar too. I wasn’t a fool and could see the envious glances that were shot my way. God, why did I suggest we could be friends?
I tried to focus on the band—Colin was impressively talented, and I couldn’t believe I never knew that about him. I hummed along to the cover songs I knew and willed myself to just enjoy the moment and completely ignore the desire to crawl into Lincoln’s lap in the dark corner of the bar. But I loved the way his T-shirt fit tightly across his muscular chest. His dark hair, short at the sides but longer at the top, was begging me to run my fingers through it, pull just a little. If our time after his shower was any indication, Lincoln liked his sex just a little rough. Every time he took a sip of his beer, I had to look away and not think about his full lips as they found the thin skin on my neck.
I couldn’t help myself, and I asked about his tattoos. I had to know if the wings on his forearm really had been Valkyrie and if there was any connection to the letters I had written him so many years ago.
None of them are special.
Those words gutted me. I tried to hide the tears that burned at the corners of my eyes. When he covered them with his hand, I couldn’t help but share the sadness that crept into his eyes. There was something there—deep and dark—that was haunting Lincoln Scott.
A rolling ache spread across my chest. I wanted nothing more than to take away the sadness that darkened his expression. I was relieved when the moment passed almost as quickly as it had come.
A silent war waged inside me—I was supposed to be his friend, but all I could think about were the stolen moments we’d shared this weekend. Lincoln was still a mystery to me. He was dark and moody but also had a witty sense of humor and wasn’t afraid to laugh at himself. I craved more of those moments where he shed his tough exterior.
A bubble of anger developed when I thought about how natural and easy our conversation was and how it could never be more than a friendship. I wasn’t one to pout, but the irrational side of me wanted to stomp my foot, shake him, and show him how much fun we could have together. Not to mention how hot it was when we’d had sex. A repeat of that would definitely be welcomed.
Feeling resigned to live in the desolate land of friends, I knew it was time to make a clean break. “Well . . . I should call it a night.”
As I shifted on my stool, Lincoln stood. I watched him pull out a few bills from his wallet, and I got a quick glimpse of his incredible ass.
“My treat,” he said as he put the bills down on the table. He really needed to stop being such a gentleman. Him paying for my dinner made it feel more like a date and my face warmed, a blush creeping across my cheeks.
“Thank you,” I said, looking around. “And thank you for keeping me company tonight. I’ve got a little walk back, so I’ll leave you to it.” I moved away from the table.
“Joanna,” Lincoln growled. The intensity in his eyes was back, and my breath hitched. “I’ll drive you back to the motel.”
He wasn’t asking. My gut told me it wasn’t a good idea, but if it meant even a few more minutes with Lincoln, I was taking it. Friend zone be damned.
He walked quickly through the bar, and my legs burned trying to keep up with his long, quick strides. When we reached the door, he pulled it open, placing a hand on my lower back and guiding me through. His fingers lingered on the dip of my back, just a moment, and I could have melted into a puddle right then and there.
“I’m parked this way,” he said, motioning toward his gray pickup. The air in the truck had shifted from the last time I was here, electrified. Tension felt heavy in the small cab. I watched Lincoln as he opened my door. Did he lean in, just a little bit?
My mind was racing. I didn’t want to read into anything, but he was definitely still throwing out mixed signals. We’d decided to be friends, but he had paid for dinner and offered to drive me back to the motel. What was with him?
The motel was only a few short blocks away, and Lincoln stayed quiet and intense the entire ride. His eyes never left the road. When he pulled into a parking space, he put the truck into park and shifted in the seat, finally facing me.
“Thank you for the ride. And for dinner,” I said. Why was I acting like such a robot? The confines of the cab were filled with his masculine scent, and I knew exactly why I was having trouble forming coherent thoughts.
“You should really consider filling in for Finn while his leg heals,” he said, surprising me.
I sighed. “I have. I’m just not sure now is a good time. Things got . . . complicated this weekend and I need to be getting back to reality.” I couldn’t bring myself to look Lincoln in the eye.
I felt his finger under my chin, tipping my head so that our eyes could meet. Lincoln’s molten, deep blue eyes burned into me. “I’m sorry if I made your life more difficult,” he offered.
His hand slid back, moving around the base of my neck, kneading gently. I locked my eyes onto his. Pull me close, Lincoln. Kiss me. I tipped my head forward slightly.
“Goodnight, Joanna.” His voice was a low, rough whisper. His hand gently squeezed the back of my neck as he released me. Lincoln’s large frame shifted back, facing forward. His eyes turned hard, and I knew that was my invitation to leave.
Disappointed, I turned the handle and paused. “Thank you, again, for dinner. Goodbye, Lincoln.” With that, I hurried out of his truck, embarrassment burning through my veins.
I quickly opened the door to my room and closed it without looking back, slumping against the doorframe.
He turned you down twice. Get a damn clue, Jo.
I closed my eyes as I heard the rumble of his engine pull out of the motel parking lot. The lump in my throat threatened to turn into full-blown sobs.
Bud whined at my return, so I grabbed his leash and took him for a short walk on the small patch of grass behind the building. It was quiet, and judging by Bud’s soft brown eyes, he seemed to know that my spirits were low.
After our quick walk, I stood in the dim, cramped motel room. This is not the life I imagined. If I was going to move forward with owning my own guide business and having any measure of success, I needed to make some serious changes. In the morning, I planned to head out early, scout a few potential properties, and call my sister. She was always good for a pep talk and would help me figure out where to go from here. I just really hoped I didn’t have to end up on her couch again. So humiliating.
I knew one thing for certain—I was clearly not meant to be tethered. No more consideration of a business with Finn, no more wondering if my life would have been different if I had listened to my parents, and definitely no more thoughts of Lincoln Scott.
I tapped my wet toothbrush on the sink and turned toward the bed when I heard two sharp knocks on the motel room door. A low growl formed in Bud’s throat, and I rested my hand on his furry head with a “Shh.” My pulse hammered as I crossed the room but paused at the door, listening.
“Joanna.” Another three bangs.
I slipped the bolt unlocked and yanked the door open. Lincoln stood in front of me, fists clenched at his side, the veins bulging in his forearms, his body filled with tension.
Oh, shit.
