I blush a deeper red than I possibly ever have before but am so grateful for a man that continually treats me like a queen. I jokingly smile, “Lync, if I didn’t know better, I would say that you’re trying to avoid having sex with me.”
His squints at me in anger, “First things first, future Mrs. Reed, you know I hate that word. It’s so much more than that. It will mean so much more than sex. Secondly, I fully intend to prove you wrong. Right. Now.”
He is crashing into me before I have a second to respond. Or breathe. He pulls away minutes later, and I almost think he is going to cross a line and feel me up or something. Then I blush when I realize how disappointed I am that he doesn’t. What the heck is he doing to me?! I mean, my hands were all over his large pecs. I was definitely feeling him up and I didn’t even know I was doing it. He’s turning me into a rabid beast of the hormonal kind.
And I think I might like it?!
He rests his forehead on mine. “Still think I don’t want you?” he asks all velvety-like at a whisper.
“Nope.” I shudder. In a good way. “Definitely not. Lesson learned.”
“Good.” He leans back and shakes his head grinning. “You are the most frustrating woman I have ever met.”
I can’t say I can argue with that.
Chapter 28
Tuesday Taggert proves good on his word. Lyncoln is not allowed to go to DIA, furthermore, although Langly is with him, it appears it is more to babysit and less to be his so-called “eyes and ears”. If Lyncoln makes it through the day without any issues, I will be thoroughly surprised.
He spends time with my parents while Ashton and I work on a secret project with Frank and Gertie. Since Christmas is Thursday and going shopping is definitely out of the question, Frank and Gertie are helping us by bringing the shopping to us. We gave them a list of options, and Frank brought in a friend who owns a little shop in Denver. He brought with him suitcases of stuff for us to look at.
Hours later, I have an old book by my dad’s favorite author and a gorgeous antique looking necklace for mom for part of her gift. (The other part is having Frank design her some new and trendier clothes that we will have made. She’ll freak out about that, I’m sure.) I got a stack of old movies and a DVD player for Ashton, which he picked out and is superbly excited about… it’s the little things with that one. As we go through some movies, I find an old zombie movie and get it for Henry. Lyncoln, on the other hand, was the hardest one to shop for. What do you get the man that has everything and needs nothing? Another black v-neck t-shirt? Ha.
I do need to get him a wedding ring, but Dougall is already working with me on that front and I want to be able to actually give him something on Christmas Eve. After going back and forth for what seems like forever, Ashton and Frank convince me to get him a picture of us in a cool looking picture frame. I just have to decide which picture to put in there. Gertie and I will go through the options for it later.
“I just feel like its vane,” I offer. “Giving him a picture of us.”
Frank stops me, “Ahhh. My darling, you just tell him why you chose that specific picture and he will love it.”
Ashton grins. He already loves my attendant and all his quirkiness. “See? It’s settled.”
By the time we finish, Mom and Dad are having lunch with the President and Ashton is heading over to DIA for a tour and a test on his military aptitude to better place him for his career. Not wanting to sit around alone, I go in search of Lyncoln.
Upon entering his room, I know he has already lost it. A lamp is tipped over on the floor and he practically has Langly against the wall, giving him an earful. Another two men are standing on either side of Langly and looking just as beaten down.
“Don’t forget who had your back when you needed it the most,” he says to Langly in a tone that is so menacing I wouldn’t even know it was Lyncoln if I wasn’t seeing it myself.
“Lyncoln,” I snap.
He spins around, absolutely fuming, sees the look on my face, and falters for just a second.
We stare each other down for a few beats and then I look to the other men. “Go,” I command.
They hesitate and look confused, not sure whether they should follow my orders or not, but eventually do as I say. As Langly leaves he looks at me with a nod, “Ma’am.”
I smile at him warmly. We both know what this is about. Lyncoln, for his own safety, is being cut off and given limited information about things at DIA. It’s only day one… and not even halfway through it.
“They aren’t telling me a damn thing,” Lyncoln groans frustrated, half-groaning, half-yelling. He looks like he wants to throw something. Guess I know what happened to the lamp.
“So that gives you an excuse to treat your men like crap?” I challenge him. “It’s not their fault.”
He looks annoyed with me, truly annoyed. I haven’t ever seen him quite this belligerent. Well, towards me anyway.
“You wouldn’t understand,” he snaps.
This ticks me off. I know what’s going on and I know why he’s acting like a jerk, but he is about to cross the line here and insult me, and there is no excuse for that. None.
“Oh. You mean because I’m a woman? And a woman can’t possibly understand anything military related?” I ask with my voice raised, eyebrows up in challenge.
He smirks for a response and I lose it.
I storm across the room and get in his business. I want to slap him straight across the face, but don’t want to get violent. This man is so darn frustrating! I know he’s upset, but this is so not okay. I’m not even a little calm when I start, “Don’t. You. Dare. Those men are trying to keep us both safe. You don’t get to treat them like that and you sure as hell don’t get to treat me like this.”
I turn angrily to leave. Before I am even two steps toward the door, I am turned around, picked up, and placed against the same wall that Langly was just backed up against. Lyncoln kisses me roughly at first, and then it turns tender and soft. I am so angry when it happens, I don’t bother to kiss him back. He doesn’t get to be a jerk and then try to kiss me and make it okay. He doesn’t get to use my attraction to him as a weapon.
“Don’t,” I shove him off, trying to get away from him before I cave like I usually do.
Rejection covers his face as he snaps out of his mood, realizing where exactly he went wrong… which was all of it. He takes a deep breath and slowly releases it. He doesn’t hesitate to start apologizing, “I’m sorry, Regs. Really. I am.” He steps back and pulls at his hair again. “Dammit!”
I move forward and place my hand on his cheek, looking at him concerned. This is going to be harder for him than I even thought. This is the first day, for crying out loud. “You can’t insult me one second and then kiss me the next. It’s not fair and it doesn’t excuse what you said, it’s manipulative.” I try to be firm with him, but I’m not sure I get the job done. All I can think about is the secret I need to tell him. I want to tell him now, but he’s already so bothered I’m too scared to.
He nods with a sigh and looks at me worried. “You’re right. I didn’t even know that was what I was doing, I just didn’t want you to leave. I’m sorry, Regs. Really.” He reaches for me but then shrugs not knowing what to do as he drops his hands, unsure if it’s okay to touch me yet. “The last thing I would want to do is manipulate you.”
He looks so torn apart in that moment, I walk forward and wrap my arms around him. I tip my head back to look at him and see he closes his eyes a moment, breathing deeply.
“And I didn’t mean you didn’t understand because you’re a woman even though with how much of a jerk I was being I know why you would think that. I meant that you didn’t understand because military stuff is my life. This is the first day in the last five years that I’ve been shut out of it. Even when the Culling started and I couldn’t be at DIA, I had reports and calls daily.”
I sigh hearing the truth in his words. I look at him, speaking softly, “This is why you woul
dn’t be happy anywhere other than Denver. And you know you aren’t shut out forever, right? It’s just until the final vote while they find Hadenfelt and keep us both safe. While we try to win this thing.”
He nods but reaches up to run a hand through his hair frustrated. “Of course I know that, but right when they need me the most, I get tossed aside. I don’t like it. I know I can do something. And I know I should be doing something to help keep you safe.”
“Of course you can do something, but you have to let those men who know and love you do their jobs too. They are perfectly capable and you’re too valuable right now. Promise me you will try to let them do their jobs. They’ve earned your trust and they know you would take a bullet for them,” I say worried then add, “Please don’t leave me. You have to know that it will be like this if we win, granted you would know more, even run things, but you are going to have to allow your men to do more. Just consider being with me a form of protecting me, as doing something to keep me safe. You can be with me as much as you want.”
This melts him and the Lyncoln I know and love is officially back as he kisses my forehead, “I’m not leaving you, Regs. Not ever.”
I nod and feel the tears stinging my eyes, threatening to drown me. He has no idea how badly I need him to be safe right now. “I know it won’t be easy for you,” my voice cracks but I continue, “but can you just hang out with me this week? Is that so bad? It’s Christmas, after all.”
“Gorgeous, I would love nothing more than to hang out with you. And for the record, I’m not as worried about relinquishing my duties if we get the presidency as I am about doing it now,” he says frustrated.
“Well then what’s the problem?”
He looks at me protectively, with raw fierceness. “Until Hadenfelt is out of the picture, I just can’t fully relax with you. I feel like I’m always looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to make his move. Reagan, I have to have you safe. If I lost you too…”
I know all too well what he means.
“I know, Lync. I know. I want you safe too though, don’t you see that? We both would love to do something to help, because we are doers, but what we need to do is stay safe and out of the way, so they can use all their time and resources finding that man. The more we do and the more involved we are, the greater the chance that Hadenfelt can get to one or both of us. We don’t need to be easy targets for him.”
He sighs frustrated again, knowing I’m right. “Okay.”
I smile at him knowingly. “I don’t like not helping either, just for the record.”
“I know you don’t.” He grabs my hand and kisses it softly on the palm. “What would you like to do today, sweetheart?”
“We have a meeting with Dougall and then I would like to do a Scott family tradition later this afternoon if we can. We may have to use your super-secret source so I need your help,” I smile mischievously.
“What is it?” he asks intrigued, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I grin. “Christmas cookies, of course.”
He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Figures.”
“Hey, Lync?” I squeeze his hand.
“Yeah, babe?”
“Since you’re done being a jerk, you can kiss me now.”
He sighs with relief and doesn’t hesitate to do so. It’s the soft and quiet kind. The kind of kiss that makes you feel whole. Even if just for a moment.
****
That evening turned out to be more fun than I could have hoped for. Lyncoln used his kitchen source, who ends up being an older lady that used to cook for the military men before President Maxwell found out about her superb cooking skills and whisked her away to Mile High to cook for him. She lets us in one of the two massive kitchens within the Presidential Suite, the one she uses, and we all get to work with the cookies. Soon there is flour, sugar, other boxes and containers of ingredients, and bowls everywhere, followed by the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies flowing from the ovens.
From the two large windows off the kitchen, I can see outside the snow has arrived and is quickly starting to cover the ground. By the end of the cookie making, we have Sarge, Rodgers, Langly, Frank, and Gertie all helping my family bake, frost, and eat the cookies. We are all so overly stuffed that we have a light supper delivered to us in the kitchen while we clean up.
“I swear, Mrs. Scott, those are the best cookies I have ever had,” Sarge compliments my mother while rubbing his stomach in approval as he reaches for what has to be his tenth cookie.
“Oh shush!” She swats a towel at him but is obviously pleased.
Lyncoln nods, “They come a close second to my favorite peanut butter ones.”
Ashton pretends to cough as he says, “Suck up.”
“Honestly, Ashton,” my mother scolds, “The man is helping you find a new specialty and you treat him like that?”
Lyncoln smirks at Ashton. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Mrs. Scott.”
“This reminds me of that time in the dead of winter that the kids were arguing over who got to use the tractor to feed the cattle and who was on water duty,” my dad starts.
Ashton and I groan simultaneously. There have been so many stories told about us these last few days. None of them are even remotely flattering either.
Mom laughs. “And there was a storm rolling in, so you told them to quit wasting time and the first person to run to the house and back and not cheat got to use the tractor. It was at least a half a mile run in the cold.”
Lyncoln smiles and places his hand in mine after giving my knuckles a quick kiss while we stand around the kitchen counters, filled with freshly made cookies, talking.
“Well who won?” Frank asks interested.
“Who do you think?” Ashton pretends to boast and puffs his chest out.
Lyncoln grins, sneaking an affectionate glance at me, “Reagan did.”
Ashton gets defensive and acts wounded. “She told you?! Well did she also tell you she tripped me in the process when dad wasn’t looking?”
He turns toward Ashton, barely holding back a laugh, and tells him, “No, she didn’t tell me.”
Ashton looks defeated. “Man. Then how’d you know?”
He looks back to me proudly and smirks. “She rarely loses. We had a paintball competition in the Culling and she was pretty ruthless.”
I notice he doesn’t mention his beating me in the top shot competition, handing me my only loss of the Culling so far. I’m still not over that.
“Paintball?” Ashton sounds jealous.
Lyncoln nods, his blue-brown eyes almost shining with pride. “She helped me steal a flag from our ally and then ran into fire to deliver the flag to lead our team to victory.”
I shrug, trying my best not to throw myself at Lyncoln and give him a solid smooch for bragging on me. “I had no idea what I was doing, I just don’t like losing, okay?”
I almost blush then, remembering that the story Lyncoln is telling was from the day Lyncoln first kissed me and let me know how he really felt about me. I still get chills thinking about it. That was a kiss, alright. It may have been against a tree and completely unconventional since we were in gear and holding paintball guns, but it was perfect.
My dad rolls his eyes. “Sounds about right.”
****
The next morning I have an email from Samson. He is up to a group of eight of them now, and still has no information on Hadenfelt. Darn. I quickly send my reply and head to a pow-wow session with Dougall and Elle while Lyncoln meets with Langly and a few others in his room.
Elle and Dougall have no news either but are instead using our time to help me decide on different things for the wedding/inauguration day if we win. It takes forever and seems so frivolous to be picking out décor and color schemes for our wedding when there are so many other pressing matters.
Finishing up my Culling duties, I can’t wait to go in search of my family. Today is a big day. As Ashton and I like to refer to it, it’s Christmas Eve-Eve. W
hat can I say? I’m a sucker for all things Christmas.
As we leave Dougall and Elle, I watch Jamie’s eyes linger a little longer than necessary on a certain part of Elle as she walks down the hallway.
I raise my eyebrows at him, grinning like an idiot. Caught ‘cha!
“What?” He tries to play it off cool, like he has no idea I just caught him checking her out.
I look at him knowingly and smile with a whisper, “You couldn’t take your eyes off of her.”
He tries to shrug it off and though Elle is long gone, he whispers back, “She has a nice body, and I am a dude, okay?”
“Yes, she does, and yes, you are, but I haven’t ever seen you look at a woman the way you were just drooling over her,” I argue.
“Seriously, Reagan?” he whisper-yells. “Like I haven’t seen you and Lyncoln undress each other with your eyes about 700 million times.” He rolls his eyes at me nice and slow for exaggeration.
I blush and giggle. “I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself.”
“See? Exactly.” He shakes his head for emphasis.
I stop walking and turn to grab his arm, getting more serious, still speaking softly. “Listen. If you want to check her out, check her out. If you maybe like her more than that because she is a very intelligent, attractive, and assertive woman, don’t waste your time not going for it.”
He sighs. I know he’s thinking of his wife who died way too young.
I look at him with empathy. “She would have wanted you to move on and be happy, you know.”
“I know,” he says sadly. “It just feels weird. They are totally different types of women. Not even remotely similar.”
I shrug. “Maybe that’s better because you won’t always compare them.”
He smiles down at me, back to speaking at a normal volume. “You’re adorable. When did you get so good at relationship advice, Reagan? As I recall correctly, you hadn’t even been kissed when I first met you.”
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 41