Page 72 of Good Girl's Guide to Love
“I’m actually kind of glad about that,” I admit as I put down our takeout containers and drinks. “But enough about that. I hope you’re hungry. I have chicken tenders, coleslaw, Texas Toast, and they threw in some banana pudding because they’re big Fury fans. I told them?—”
“Why are you here, Linc?”
Apparently Ainsley has bypassed the speechless, surprised stage to a panic stage of some sorts.
“Can’t a boyfriend bring his girlfriend dinner?”
She gives me a raised eyebrow as she sits across from me. “He can. But your timing seems suspicious.”
“Nope, nothing suspicious,” I say, a little tease in my tone. “Since you told me Dipshit was bothering you at work, I wanted to come up here. I also needed to eat. Since you were working late, and I have light days on Mondays, I thought this would be the perfect way to kill a few birds with one stone.”
She tilts her head to study me as I hand her one of the carryout containers. “That’s it? No other reason?”
I should be the nice guy and let her off the hook. Tell her what I heard. But what’s the fun in that? “I don’t know, Ainsley. What would another reason be?”
Our stare down is intense. She knows I know. I know she knows I know. But there’s one thing about me, and it’s that I hate to lose. Especially this fun little game of cat and mouse.
“Is it because…” Ainsley’s words trail off.
“Because what?”
She bites her lip so hard it might start bleeding. She wants to ask. I can see it in her eyes. Sure, she might still be the shy girl I first met, but every time we’re together, I see her breaking out of that shell a little more.
“Last night…my sisters…oh, you know what. Never mind.”
“I don’t think so.” Ainsley tries to turn away from me and start digging through our now-lukewarm chicken tenders, but I don’t let her. I pull my chair closer to hers, turning her so she’s now facing me. I make sure to pull her in so close my legs have to spread to put her into my orbit. I nearly get lost in her sweet, floral, scent, but I push it aside, because I need this more. “Use your words, Ainsley Mae. You can do it. Do something scary and ask me what you want.”
The blush on her cheeks is instant. God I hope she agrees to what I’m proposing just so I can see what else I can do to make those cheeks pink.
“Did you hear the conversation with my sisters?”
I take her hands in mine. “I did.”
“How much?”
Once I figured out what was going on, I knew I was entering midway through the conversation. But I know what I heard. And that was enough for me.
“I heard that Dr. Dipshit didn’t deserve a woman like you. That you have been massively neglected for a very long time. And that, if you want, I can be the man to change that.”
I feel her hands go limp in mine. She hasn’t blinked. Was that the best way to approach this? Probably not. But Ainsley needs decisiveness, so why not rip off the sexual Band-Aid?
“What do you mean?”
I take a breath, because I might’ve just dropped that bomb, but I want to make sure I get this right. “I know I probably shouldn’t have listened last night, so I do need to apologize for that.”
Ainsley shakes her head. “I mean, my niece called you without me knowing, so there's honestly nothing to apologize for.”
Oh, now that makes more sense. “Remind me to buy her a really good Christmas present this year. Because I’m glad she did.”
“Really? You wanted to hear my horrible, and minimal, sexual history?”
“Not for the reasons you’re probably thinking. Ainsley, you are too beautiful of a woman—too good of a woman—to doubt yourself like the way I heard you talking last night. I hate that these schmucks who call themselves men have made you feel anything less than the incredible woman you are.”
“Linc, I?—”
I put my finger in front of her mouth. “No, let me finish. Because I have a feeling you’re going to try and dismiss the words I just said. But please don’t. I know you’re not the kind of girl to sleep around. You’re a commitment girl, and that’s admirable. So I know this probably isn’t something you’ve ever considered doing. And you’re probably going to tell me to go to hell for suggesting it.”
“That would require me saying that word.”
