Page 59 of Daddies' Little Troublemaker

“I don’t like that guy,” Link says.

I don’t like him, either. Something was off in how he asked if I’m her boyfriend.

17

POOL PARTY

Evelyn

I’m up bright and early the next day. Wow, it feels good to not have a hangover. I find Lincoln in the kitchen, scowling at the coffee pot, and I give him my sweetest smile.

His scowl deepens. “I need to buy your dad a better coffee pot. I think he’s had this one since the nineties.”

“He doesn’t like to throw out things if they aren’t broken,” I say.

“But it takes thirty minutes to brew.”

“Good things take time.”

A thoughtful look comes over his face as he stares at me. “Do they, now.”

“I guess.” Ugh, I can feel myself blushing. I need to stop this. He and I can be friends. Just friends. We had such a good time swimming yesterday. That can be enough, right?

Other than the teeny, tiny—okay, massive—crush I seem to be harboring for him and Caleb.

He’s still looking at me, and I need to change the subject, fast.

“Hey, do you mind if I have some friends over to swim today?”

There’s no hesitation when he says, “Of course not. This is your home—I’m just a guest.”

“Pretty sure my dad thinks of this as your home, too.”

That’s when I see it, the guilt in his eyes. He thinks my dad wouldn’t consider this place Lincoln’s home if Dad knew what we did.

I was hurt when Lincoln jerked off on me and walked away the other night, but it’s only now, looking into his soulful, light brown eyes, that I see the inner turmoil. Maybe I think he’s wrong, but at least now I can see where he’s coming from.

The tiny green light on the coffee maker flashes, and he grins. The tense moment is broken.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he says. “Can I pour you a cup?”

* * *

Evelyn

Four hours later, Maya, Sawyer, Nico, Brenna and I are flinging water balloons at each other, and Lincoln is nowhere to be seen. Totally fine, I don’t blame him.

Even so, I miss seeing him all muscular and big and handsome in his swimming trunks.

Maya, Sawyer, and Nico have formed one team of three, leaving Brenna and me to fight together. At one point, Lincoln wanders out, and even though he isn’t wearing his swim trunks, I try to bring him over to our cause.

“Nope,” he says, holding up his hands.

“Who is that?” Brenna whispers as Lincoln walks away.

“My dad’s stepbrother,” I say.

She whistles low. “Does he always look so angry?”

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