by Petrova, Em
Linc.
Vanessa’s breath caught as he wrapped his hands around her waist and swung her across the dance floor. He didn’t speak, which made looking at his lips that much more awkward, because that’s all she could stare at. That and his eyes. They got off to a rocky start, as she was having an extremely hard time breathing, but as soon as they got into the rhythm of things, his grip relaxed slightly and he pulled her closer, resting his hand on her lower back while his other hand held hers in between their bodies.
Vanessa used the opportunity to rest her head on his shoulder, watching his neck, willing herself to not lick it. There was a bit of stubble on his chin, a golden dusting of hair that she resisted smoothing her hand over. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed as he looked down at her shoulder. She could feel his heartbeat thumping and smell his clean scent. At least he’d showered the Giggler’s smell off him before he came back out.
That thought had her stiffening again, and she missed a step.
“Sorry,” she whispered, her voice sounding strangled.
He clutched her tighter and twirled around the dance floor without a word. He two-stepped better than Chaz, and she was just clinging to him for dear life.
Pressed against his hard body, her imagination went a little nuts. She remembered him kissing Cindy on the sidewalk the other day and couldn’t stop her mind from wondering what their sex life was like. Must be pretty fantastic if they were back together.
Her mind went crazy, imagining them in bed together, and jealousy reared up, flooding her vision with a red haze. So she switched to imagining him having sex with her, and that was no better.
She sighed as the song ended and started to back away, but his grip tightened on her waist, pulling her closer for another dance. This one was slower, and she resigned herself to more torture, being held against the hot guy who didn’t speak.
“Um, you’re a really good dancer.” Inane. She was back to small talk. Pissed, she couldn’t believe they were actually going backwards in whatever twisted relationship they had going on.
She watched as his throat worked before he muttered, “Thanks.” Then nothing. For another three songs. Broody Linc was back in business.
They danced well together, his body curled around hers, their feet moving automatically, boots brushing against boots as they shuffled across the floor. If there had been some sort of relationship involved, or some sign of an interest in a relationship, it would have been romantic. But the way things were, with Linc not talking to her about much of anything, it was just damn awkward.
He held her like that—tight against him for five entire songs—before she finally managed to break free. She would have danced with Linc all night long, except he didn’t speak one word the entire time, only growling at the guys who did try to break in for a dance. It was torture. An exhausting, sweet, torture.
“I’m ready to go home, I think. I’m really tired.” He released her, and when she looked at his face, there was something weird on it, like he was pained. That made no sense to her at all. Why the fuck dance with her if it was such a hardship? He still held Vanessa’s hand, and she pointedly looked at it, their fingers interlaced, his large one swallowing her tiny one.
“I like kittens.” She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not; he was totally straight-faced, showing absolutely no emotion.
“Um… that’s pretty random, but me, too.” She laughed nervously, and he finally let go of her hand.
Vanessa stomped back toward Sam and Tiffany at the bar, utterly confused by Linc’s behavior. Only Tiffany was there, though; Sam was off dancing with Sheriff Hughes. Tiffany didn’t look like she was having a good time.
“What’s wrong?” Vanessa asked her.
She shrugged. “Nothing.” But she looked down and blushed, watching Nick out of the corner of her eye. It was so out of character from the woman who had explained the mechanics of double penetration to Melanie at the Book Bitches meeting that she’d nearly laughed.
“If you say so.” Vanessa sipped her beer and scanned the crowd, finding Chaz making his way toward her with a small tray of tequila shots and a decidedly predatory look in his eyes. Uh oh.
“I think I’m going to head out,” she told Tiffany. “I’m awfully tired,” she repeated her explanation.
Setting the tray down, Chaz suddenly looked concerned. “I can give you a ride home. Are you okay?” He started rubbing Vanessa’s lower back, where Linc’s heat still lingered, but she shrugged off the way-too-familiar gesture from the wrong man.
“Yeah, I’m fine. And I don’t need a ride. I’m okay to drive.”
She hugged Tiffany, who asked her, “Will you give me a ride home? I’m not really feeling this.”
“Sure thing!”
***
On the way to Tiffany’s house, Vanessa couldn’t pretend she hadn’t noticed the awkwardness at the bar.
“What’s going on between you and Nick? Are y’all exes or something?” Vanessa looked in the rearview mirror to see headlights behind her car. She ignored them, pulling into Tiffany’s driveway. She lived in town, not far from the bar. Mystic was so small, if you were in town you weren’t far from anything.
“Hell no,” Tiffany replied, tucking hair behind her ear. “We had a… an incident before Christmas, but it just showed me what a total ass he is. So no. Definitely nothing there.”
“Okay.” Tucking that information away for later, she decided to hold off on more questions, although Nick didn’t look like he’d have a cold bed anytime soon. Dude was hawt. Definitely something in the water here. “See you later?”
“Yeah, later. Thanks for the ride.”
She watched Tiffany skip up the walkway to her older home before pulling out and driving off.
Headlights followed her down the highway to her turnoff. She pretended they weren’t the same ones that had followed her out of the bar. She told herself the warden could be driving himself home. It could be any number of people driving down the highway.
She almost went somewhere else, anywhere else, just to not lead whoever it was to her drive, but told herself she was being paranoid. So she crossed her fingers and prayed they wouldn’t follow her up to her house.
As she turned off, the headlights sped away, and Vanessa let out a sigh of relief, feeling stupid for worrying about it.
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, Linc got up early to unload the freight truck at the hardware store. Friday deliveries were from the lumber mill, and Linc could unload it faster than Samantha or Richard, so they let him. He didn’t mind it. Meeting the truck at the lot they used for lumber behind the shop, he got busy unloading plywood, two-by-sixes, and other assorted lumber, some of which he’d ordered for Vanessa’s house. The work was mind-numbing, physical labor, allowing him to work and stretch while at the same time getting lost in his own thoughts.
He’d felt a little dumb and a lot creepy following her home last night, but Linc had wanted to make sure she got home safe. Not only had she been drinking, but Vanessa had garnered more attention than he’d liked. Shane’s brother, Chaz, was one of the men who’d been unable to take his eyes off her, undoubtedly eager to get in her pants. That’s why he’d danced with her most of the time she was there, even though he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say that didn’t sound stupid. When he’d finally opened his mouth, drivel spilled out, so he’d clamped it shut again.
In frustration, he beat his head against the two-by-four he was holding. That didn’t help, so he just kept moving wood, hoping the physical exertion would do something for him.
Linc was just finishing up when his dad drove up. The ancient Chevy had rust spots and smelled of gas fumes but still ran like the gas-guzzling beast it had started out as, due to Richard Ward’s meticulous maintenance schedule. He honked the horn at Linc and opened the passenger door, motioning for Linc to get in.
Linc strode over with a smile, leery of his dad’s sudden appearance. The store didn’t open for anot
her hour, and Richard didn’t usually get there for another twenty minutes.
“Lincoln, I want a word with you.” Richard’s low grumble was accompanied by a cup of coffee placed in Linc’s hands, a gesture implying it would be a friendly chat. But Linc’s hackles rose anyway. He had an idea.
“What exactly are your plans for the future?” Way to cut right to the chase, Dad. Linc sighed, but not in annoyance, only frustration. He didn’t have any plans, didn’t dare make any. Plan was a four letter word in his book. At one point, he’d had a plan, and it had all gone to hell with one night of stupidity. Plans were for suckers.
“I don’t really have one, Dad. I’m working on this big job at Vanessa’s house.” Richard nodded in encouragement. “That should give me enough cushion to live off of for a while, and hopefully some references for more work. I’m just trying to take things one day at a time and focus on keeping my head above water.” His future was something Linc didn’t count on, didn’t plan for, and couldn’t predict. His life had taught him he couldn’t think positively about something that could be ripped away from him in a heartbeat. And there was no way he could count on something good happening for him. He didn’t deserve it, so Linc wasn’t going to plan for it.
“Well, your mother and I had always hoped you and Samantha would take over the business. I know you don’t think you can do it now, but I wanted to see if you were at least interested in it. Unless we get one of those huge chains here in town, it’s a secure financial investment for you guys.”
Linc’s hand trailed to the back of his neck to rub out the sudden tension there. He really hated to let Dad down, and his hopes were pinned on Linc taking over the store his entire life. Linc wanted to, but didn’t see it happening the way Richard wanted it to.
“I don’t think so, Dad. Not right now, anyway. Having my face in there every day would probably run the business straight into the ground,” he grumbled.
“I don’t think so, and I don’t want you to take over today. But just think about it.” Richard’s voice changed timbre, to something more officious. “I need you to run this deposit over to the bank before you go.” He held out a bank bag, the kind made out of vinyl with the lock on the zipper for cash deposits.
Linc’s stomach lurched. His dad new better than to ask.
“I don’t go to the bank, Dad. You know that.”
“Son, you need to face her sometime. She asks about you, you know. Mrs. Kennedy just wants to talk to you, see your face, and know you’re okay. She doesn’t hold any ill will toward you.”
Linc’s fingers on the truck handle tightened. “I can’t, Dad,” he choked out before opening the door and getting out.
“You will, one of these days, and you’ll see everything’s alright.”
“Yeah, catch ya later, Dad.” Linc waved as he walked off to finish stacking the wood.
Nothing would ever be alright for Mrs. Kennedy. Linc had made sure of that ten years ago. Because of that, they would never be alright for him, either. He didn’t even know what he was thinking with Vanessa, either. There was no way she would want him after she knew everything.
***
The next few days, he swore Vanessa was instituting Operation Destroy Linc. Every time he turned around, she was there, smelling good, spraying water on her face and neck to beat the afternoon heat, and just looking awesome. She was forever licking her lips or rubbing her breasts together. She was a walking porn show, without all the sex. His imagination was doing just fine with the rest of it.
It was like she was doing it on purpose. During the day, she painted, taking breaks to work on her laptop on whatever it was she did for a living. In the evenings, she read from the diary he had found. Yeah, he was working twelve-hour days, just to spend more time with her.
She cooked for him, and he ate her shitty cooking just to be near her. He knew she was interested, but shit if he knew what to do about it. Just as soon as she knew what he was, the interest would be gone. And so would the job. Unemployed and heartbroken in one fell swoop.
They’d had a late heat wave the last couple of days, so it had been hotter than normal, hence the water bottle. Linc hadn’t been able to sleep, so he was early the next morning. He wasn’t totally surprised to see Vanessa still asleep when he got there. Still in bed, wearing next to nothing, for Christ’s sakes. He swallowed his tongue, realizing she wore a barely-there camisole and a pair of panties and had kicked off the sheet. She slept on her stomach, her breasts smashed out the sides of her, her delectable ass sticking up in the air, one leg cocked out to the side, showing tantalizing shadows between her legs. A light sheen of sweat coated her skin, and he searched around for the damned spray bottle she kept at the ready to spray herself with, but not finding it, determined it was real sweat.
Linc was fucked.
Totally fucked.
He lost it. Linc honestly don’t know what came over him, but he started hollering, swiping at the back of his neck.
“Vanessa! Get up.”
She woke and rubbed bleary eyes, sitting up in the bed. Of course, the sheet fell, to reveal a body he’d been dreaming about. The camisole had slipped in her sleep and a peek of a ripe nipple teased him. When she registered he was standing in her living room, watching her sleep, she got out of bed, clutching the covers to her.
“You’re early,” she mumbled.
“You slept late,” he gritted out between his clenched teeth. He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from touching her but couldn’t resist taking steps closer. Traitorous feet. “Look. I don’t understand what’s going on between us,” it came out a harsh snarl, and she flinched. “Sorry. I’m confused. Half the time, I’m conscious that you’re my boss, and I don’t want to fuck things up.”
He didn’t say what was really bothering him about starting a relationship with Vanessa. He didn’t have the energy for that today, not with her standing there, nearly naked in front of him. “The other half of the time, I want to bend you over the nearest surface and make you scream.” He hadn’t meant for that to actually come out, but the way her eyes widened and her tongue snaked out to lick her lips made him forget any regrets. He wouldn’t know how to make her scream, anyway, but that was a topic for another fantasy altogether.
Her breaths were coming in audible gasps, and Linc found his fists unclenching as he reached for her. His thoughts raced as he tried to decipher what was happening in his head. All he knew was he wanted her so badly he couldn’t see straight. His hands swept a tendril of hair off her face, stuck there with sweat.
“Am I supposed to be sorry?” Defiance flashed in her eyes, hardening his cock further. He couldn’t take any more. This woman was going to be the death of him.
Just one fucking taste. And then he’d know if this was a fluke or something else.
That’s all he meant to do, anyway. Just a swipe of his lips. But as soon as his lips touched hers, he tasted her sleepy desire, and he might just as well jump off the edge of the Grand Canyon without a parachute. That’s how dead he was.
Her lips were so soft, and warm, and wet. She let out a little gasp, and his tongue used the opportunity to dive in. Relaxing his shoulders, he lowered her back down on the bed, his body covering hers so he could feel her soft contours. Linc pried her mouth open with his, and son of a bitch, she suckled on his lip, whimpering at him.
When her dainty fingers snaked into his hair, he needed to possess her, every fucking inch of her, and his hands went with that thought willingly. The primeval part of his brain was taking over and having as much fun as his hands crawled across her curves. They dipped under her camisole, pulling it up over her breasts with pretty, dusky-pink nipples.
Needed to taste those, too.
She made the sexiest noises, moaning and gasping, as he lowered his mouth, raining kisses across her chest and onto her breasts. Linc licked and suckled on one nipple while his fingers plucked and strummed the other, the entire time, the primal side of his brain letting out roar after roar of tri
umph.
Her legs had fallen open, his hips cradled against her tiny scrap of panties. Angling his erection against her, he ground it in. That part was totally against his will, he couldn’t stop. He was a rutting teenager again, like the first time he’d ever had a tit in his mouth.
Hopeless.
Her fingers clawed at his back, and her voice came in a breathless whisper, “Linc.”
“Yeah?” he grunted around his mouthful of heaven.
“Linc. Oh God. Do you have a condom?” She was writhing against the seam of his zipper—his erection—and he was about to blow, condom or not.
Then, with a clarity that drenched Linc faster than a bucket of water, he realized what they were doing.
He sat up, grimacing at the look on her face.
“I’m sorry.”
She clutched the sheet to her chest. “No condom?” She sounded hopeful, but she knew what he was about to say. She had to. Vanessa was worth more than a fucking rut.
“This is a mistake. I can’t do this. We can’t.” Linc rubbed the back of his neck—the stiffness collecting in the muscles already. What the fuck was he saying? They could totally do this. They needed to do this. His dick was all for what Vanessa was wanting.
She didn’t say anything, just curled herself up into a ball in the corner of her bed, and the sight sucked all the air out of him. Regret filled him, deflating him like a balloon. He was so fucking sorry.
“You don’t deserve me, Vanessa.”
Then the tigress uncurled. “I can take that one of two ways, Linc.” She sat up on her knees, and he stood to get away. She was suddenly really fucking scary, pointing her finger at Linc with her lip curled into a sexy snarl. “One, that I’m not good enough for you, which is total bullshit. I’m a woman, and I’m good enough for anybody in this god-forsaken town.” Wait. Linc was confused. Is that what he said? “OR two, that I’m too stupid to make my own decisions.” He certainly hadn’t said that. She was far from stupid. She climbed off the bed and continued her advance, which had Linc adjusting his wilting hard-on while he backed away. “I know you want me. At least sometimes. So I don’t understand what the fuck you want, Linc. But I guess you just need a fucking lay, and it must not matter who it is, so why don’t you call the Giggler?”