Page 42 of Bourbon and Secrets

Lincoln glances at me and stays quiet. When he steps closer, watching his girls ask Maeve about new nail colors, he quietly says one small word. “Peach.”

Maybe it’s because that’s what he’s called me a few times now for no good reason, or it’s just the proximity of his arrogance, but I ignore the way his jacket brushes along my back and the sound of his voice—quiet and just for me—makes my body tingle. “Forget my name already?”

I step up to the counter and settle the bill with Romey. Her eyes track him as he moves closer to me again.What the hell is he doing?

He leans in, his hand ghosting around me and touching my hip as he whispers, “Believe me when I say that I’ve tried to forget. But those sounds you made...The way you came so beautifully for me...” He lets out a small laugh, and my stomach swoops. “That’s not something a man forgets.” When he moves a few inches closer, I have to suppress a shiver. “So no, I didn’t forget your name. You’re making that really fucking hard for me.”

I turn to look at him, his blue eyes searching for a reaction. If he could see underneath my clothes, he’d see the response—goosebumps seeking a soothing hand, nipples hard and ready to be plucked, my pussy tingling and leaving a wet spot right in the center of my panties.

I glance back at Maeve and Romey, who are watching the entire exchange with delighted smiles.Jesus.

“Thanks, ladies,” I tell them both, acting like Lincoln didn’t just throw me off balance once again. “Rosie Gold puts on a helluva show. You should try to catch her while she’s in town,” I say, smiling and giving them a wink.

Lily waves. “Bye, Faye,” she calls out after me.

Lark gives me a wary smile as she looks between her father and me. She saw all of that too. This is getting too messy. He has kids. Kids I actually like being around. The idea of them not hating me is something I care about a lot more than I should. And caring about what they think makes whatever Lincoln and I are doing feel more important.I can dissect that another time. I hustle to get my coat on without looking like I’m fleeing the scene.

When I step out of the salon, wind whips at my face, messing up my hair and making it a struggle to unwrap Kit’s leash, but the door swings open before I can yank it free.

“You got a dog?” Lincoln asks from behind me. I should have known he’d follow me out.

“I’m fostering her. Just for a little bit, while I’m here.”

“Fostering?” he says, brow furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what would possess me to do this, considering he knows I’m not a permanent fixture in Fiasco.

I let out a huff. “Yes, fostering. Why are you—Go back inside, Foxx.”

He smiles at me, but it’s taunting. “Are you flustered? Peach, am I flustering you?”

I brush the hair out of my face again. I can’t get the leash unclipped. Looking up at him with a pinched brow, I bark out a laugh. “Oh please, Foxx.”

He hums, “Yeah, I remember you saying that with a little less sass last time. I liked you sounding so eager and needy.”

Just as my thighs clench, the triple beeping of a horn snags both of our attention. Kit barks out wildly too, just as Griz pulls up at an alarming pace in his golf cart.

“Are you able to drive golf carts around town like this?” I say through a laugh, as he comes to a stop.

“I’d love to see Fiasco PD try to tell me otherwise,” he says. “Faye, I’m glad I caught you. One of my book club girls said you were down here. What do you say to dinner at my place on Friday night.” His eyes shift to Lincoln, who’s standing next to me now. “My great grandbabies in there right now? Or are you hanging around looking for women?”

Lincoln squints at him like that last question was ridiculous. “Post-therapy manicure day,” he says to his grandfather.

“Rough one today?” Griz asks him.

“Depends on what they talked about,” Lincoln says. I feel like I shouldn’t be here for this discussion, but he looks at me and says, “We’re a pro-therapy crew.”

“It’s a good idea. I’m part of that crew too.” I realize how that sounds and try to backtrack, stumbling over my words. “I mean, pro-therapy. Not in your crew. I like your crew.”

He licks his lower lip and then smiles at me. “It’s alright, Peach, I know what you meant.” He clears his throat and realizes Griz heard that too.

“That your dog?” Griz asks as he nods down to the puppy sitting as if I trained her to do it.

I glance back up at him with a smile. “Yes, she is. For now, at least.”

The golf cart whirls to life again as he tuts, “Huh, Lily drew me something with a dog that looked just like it. What a coincidence. Alright, I’ll see you Friday, Faye.” And then he’s gone as fast as he arrived, without even getting my answer to if I could make it to dinner.

While it would be smart to make the same kind of escape, I can’t stop myself from lingering for a few more seconds. Watching as Griz drives off, I smile as I ask, “Is he always like that?”

Without missing a beat, Lincoln says, “Always.”

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