Page 50 of Bad Boy
I jump to my feet, forcing him to step back so we aren’t face-to-face.
“Guess y’all are with us,” he declares, sounding like he’s been punched in the nose one too many times. He eyes Linc up and down in a somewhat threatening way, and it grates on my fucking nerves. Especially when I see Lincoln squirm uncomfortably in his seat, lowering his gaze to the ground.
“Guess so,” I agree, but fuck, man. I do not want to spend my morning with this tool, and it’s clear that Lincoln doesn’t want to either.
“Well, whenever we’ve done groups like this in the past, we just rotate. And only one person is out on the trails at a time. Dr. Benson will never know.”
“That’s dangerous and defeats the purpose of extra safety precautions.” Lincoln surprises me by speaking up.
“No one asked you, Safety Patrol,” Connor sneers.
“What?” Linc asks, scrunching his brows adorably.
“You probably jerk off to a list of rules—”
“Hey!” I bark, cutting him off. “Get to your point.”
I let the ribbing slide because although he is a complete asshole, he hasn’t said anything outright hostile yet. And I’m ready to let these fuckers go do their own thing so Linc and I can do ours. He’s been looking forward to this trip and seeing the leaves all week. I’m not going to let Connor ruin that for him.
“We can take turns and do less work this way.”
I don’t even have to consult with Linc. This isn’t work for him; this is fun. He’s excited, and I’m excited for him.
“No thanks, dude. You guys can do that. I’m no snitch. But we’re gonna do our own project.”
Connor’s blond brows crease in the center, like he can’t understand how I could possibly want to do all that work. And yeah, maybe a week ago, I would have had that same mentality, but not now. Not with Lincoln.
He practically glowers at Linc as if it’s entirely his fault that they now have twice the work to do. And I raise one eyebrow in a silent question, tugging on my eyebrow stud.
Are we going to have a problem here, Connor?
“It’s settled, then. Let’s go eat.” The big guy with him grunts, turning to march up the hill toward the main lodge, unbothered by the exchange. Well over six feet tall, he definitely looks like a linebacker. I eye him speculatively, wondering if I could take him in a fight. I have the weirdest urge to jump on his back just to see how many seconds it takes me to choke him out. I think I could have him snoring on the ground like a three-hundred-pound baby in less than ten seconds.
Connor’s lips flatten into a thin, straight line, and his irritated gaze darts between Linc and me. His lip curls before he storms away. As if we give a shit that he’s annoyed or inconvenienced by his own fucking laziness.
“Catch ya later, Con!” I call after him, smirking.
Only when he’s out of sight do I peer down at Linc, who’s still sitting on the bench next to me. With a soft smile, I ask sweetly, “Hungry?” As if none of that just happened.
The beaming smile I get in return is answer enough.
* * *
Linc and I finished documenting today’s group of leaves sooner than anticipated because he’s a fucking genius, so we went to the campsite earlier than planned.
The object of my friendly obsession is sitting on the log beside me, reorganizing his backpack with a protein bar sticking out of his mouth. A slender finger nudges his glasses up before flipping through our collection for a second time.
Each leaf sample is meticulously stored in a clear baggie and labeled with neat, precise handwriting. Lincoln included the scientific and common name, color description, and date collected. He is diligent, detailed, and thorough. Just as he is in other, more sexual aspects of his life. I smirk to myself.
“Crap. I think I left the red oak leaf at the final bench. That’s the last one we need for today’s grouping, and it was perfect,” he pouts. Fuck, I’ll do anything for him when he pouts. Including searching a forest for one particular leaf, just to make him happy.
I hop off the log and head for the trail marker. “I’ll get it!” I holler, convinced I actually know what an oak leaf looks like now, thanks to Lincoln.
The uneven ground makes it more difficult, but I jog back to the bench where we last worked on our notes. I instantly spot the large, bright red leaf sitting undisturbed on the seat and sigh in relief. That was easier than expected.
Leaves rustle, and twigs snap behind me, alerting me to someone’s presence.
I whirl around, instantly on guard and ready for anyone or anything—even a fucking bear, thanks to the trusty repellent in my hoodie pocket.
