Page 49 of Lillian

“You said a swear word,” Grace tells him in a serious tone, and all the men in the room stifle smiles at it.

“Sorry, Gracie. I’ll give you a dollar at home. Promise.” His face is just as serious, if you ignore the laughter in his eyes. It pacifies Grace, though, because she nods and tucks back into his shoulder.

Speaking of. “You said you were almost done?” I prompt Lincoln for an explanation. Are these four men here for a meeting that’s just getting started? I’ll have to take Grace for a walk and a snack if so. She’s not going to be happy sitting in an office for an hour.

“I am,” he agrees. “We were just celebrating finishing a project we’ve been working on together.”

Then, like he remembers no introductions have been made, he continues. “Right, sorry. Lillian, this is Jeremy,” he points to the burly one, “Greg and Tom,” the two men who haven’t said anything since we walked in, “and you met Tyler already.” He rolls his eyes as he finishes. Something tells me he’s very much used to Tyler’s…shenanigans, as I would say to Grace. “Guys, this is Lillian, my girlfriend.”

My cheeks heat at the word, even if we do feel like more than that already. Another round of shocked expressions.

The burly one—Jeremy—says, “Excuse our surprise. But we’ve known this dumba—dummy,” he says with a quick look to Grace, “a long time. I didn’t even know the word girlfriend was part of his vernacular.”

“Well, we also didn’t know he liked blondes, so—ow! What was that for?” Tyler grumbles and rubs his arm where Greg just punched him.

“Dude. Foot, mouth. Shut the fuck up.”

“Swear word!”

Jeremy and Tyler both laugh at Greg as he mutters under his breath but yanks his wallet out of his breast pocket, produces a dollar, and hands it to a very happy four year old.

“Let’s get out of here before I go broke. It was great meeting you, Lillian. I can already tell you’re too good for him,” Greg ribs and walks out the door with Tom. I nod at them.

“If you ever get tired of Lincoln, I–” Tyler starts but is quickly yanked away from me by Jeremy. “Okay, okay. I get it. I can walk, old man,” Tyler huffs, shrugging out of Jeremy’s grip and fixing his suit.

“Good meeting you, ma’am. And little ma’am.” He winks at Grace, and she giggles.

Jeremy shuts the door as he leaves with Tyler.

I glance at Lincoln. “Then there were three.”

“Finally,” he breathes dramatically and sets Grace down. She runs around the office, looking at every nook and cranny, ever the curious toddler.

“You know,” I whisper as I saunter up to Lincoln and grab him by both lapels. I stand up on my tippy toes and murmur in his ear. “I have this fantasy of being bent over a desk in an office.” Then, I suck gently on his ear and step close enough to rub against the hardness pressed on my thigh.

His hands grip onto my waist, and he pulls me tight against his body, discreetly looking for just a little more friction.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he growls out and smashes his lips to mine. It’s a week's worth of pent up texting, phone calls, and flirting. It’s hot and passionate and…

“Ewww,” Grace’s little voice breaks through the fog, and I pull back from Lincoln. He gives me a wicked smirk, a quick peck on the lips, then walks over to Grace.

“Ready to go see your room at my place, Gracie-Lou-Who?” He picks her up, swings her around, and gives me a heartbreaking smile.

I’m so gone for this man.

“Dig in,you guys. Don’t wait for me. I’m going to change out of my work clothes really quick. I’ll give you the grand tour after dinner.” Lincoln gives me a quick kiss after I nod and saunters down a hallway on the left as we walk through the door. We stopped for takeout on the way back from his office.

“Gracie-Lou, definitely no shenanigans,” I mutter to my daughter as we stand in the entryway and stare at the immaculate space in front of us. Not only does he live in thepenthouseof his very nice building, but every surface is spotless.

It looks like the epitome of a ‘dude’ apartment. The walls, furniture, and kitchen are mostly a black and white monochromatic color scheme with some pops of color in a throw blanket or pillow here and there or some pieces of art on the wall. The floors, saints save me, are marble.

“Let me take your backpack, sweetie. Go sit in the kitchen,” I instruct her as I grab her bag and place both of ours in the corner, so as not to make a mess. Then, I head over to help her get in one of the barstools surrounding the kitchen island.

We got takeout from a local restaurant that serves American cuisine because my picky child will only eat chicken tenders and fries when we go anywhere. Lincoln and I both got burgers. Before touching ours, I pull out Grace’s and rip apart the tenders so they can cool down a little before she bites into them. After I open the barbecue sauce and put it in with her food, I slide it over and make sure she takes her first bite before I pull out mine and Lincoln’s food.

Just as I take my first bite of the burger, Lincoln comes around the corner in the sweatpants and T-shirt combination that manages to draw my gaze and hold it. He catches the look on my face, smirks at me, and I force myself to chew and swallow the bite I took.

Wordlessly, I pass him his Styrofoam takeout container.

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