I point a finger at him, shaking my head. “If you’re talking about me, stop it and if you’re not talking about me, also stop it.”
“Why?”
“Because if you are talking about me, friends don’t talk about each other like that.”
He nods thoughtfully, studying me. “And if I wasn’t talking about you?”
“The chicken is good here,” I answer, glancing down at the menu like I didn’t just ignore his question. The truth is, I don’t want him talking about another girl like that but it doesn’t make me sleeping with him any less of a bad idea. “I feel like I need to get something out of the way.”
He looks up. “What?”
“I’m not going to sleep with you. Ever. It’s not going to happen.”
Whiskey colored eyes narrow and he bites down on his full lip. “I don’t know, Sugar. Forever is a long time.”
“Okay,” I choke out, holding my hands up. “First of all, don’t ever call me Sugar again. I’m not your sugar and even if we were sleeping together, I wouldn’t let you call me that and secondly, I can’t be doing this with you. It doesn’t matter that I’m attracted to you or that you’re attracted to me because my mom just died and I’m trying to figure out where to go from here. You understand everything I’m dealing with in a way that none of my other friends do so I need you right now and this can’t get screwed up by us falling into bed together.”
“Look, Tate,” he sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “I’m serious about wanting to be your friend and yeah, there is obviously more between us but it’s not my focus right now. Maybe someday, you and I can explore that but not right now and I get that.”
He reaches across the table and grabs my hand as I gasp softly at the butterflies flapping around in my belly.
“Okay, then.”
Mia steps out from behind the counter, her eyes on us, and I rip my hand away as she approaches.
“Y’all know what you want to eat?” she asks, eying me with a mischievous grin on her face and I shake my head as Lincoln orders a sweet tea and a sandwich.
“My usual, Mia,” I tell her and she nods, winking at me before turning and walking away from our table.
“So, in all seriousness, how are you doing with everything?” Lincoln asks and I shrug.
“I don’t know how to answer that. One minute I’m fine, the next I’m crying, and then a few seconds later I’m mad.”
He nods. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“God, I have so many questions, too,” I sigh. “It’s starting to feel like I didn’t even know my mother.”
“Like what?”
“Everything,” I answer and his brows shoot up. “I know that sounds dramatic but I literally don’t know anything about her anymore.”
“Well, tell me about it. That’s why I’m here.”
I stare at him for a moment, debating how much is safe to tell him before sighing. “My mom left my brother and me a lot of money… like, a lot, but the thing is, when we were growing up, it always seemed like we were just scraping by.”
“Did she have life insurance?” he asks and I shake my head.
“No, it wasn’t life insurance. A lawyer came over to the house and presented us with checks as part of her estate. And then there were all these love letters tucked away in a box and a photo of a little boy.”
His brow furrows and a feeling of contentment washes over me, knowing that he’s really invested in this conversation and helping me figure this all out as a friend. I halfway expected this whole “friend” thing to be a way to get into my pants but when I speak, it feels like he’s really listening and he really cares.
“Could they be from your dad?”
“I don’t even know who my dad is so it’s possible.”
He scowls. “What do you mean you don’t know who your dad is?”
“She wouldn’t ever tell us.”
“Are you sure she even knew?”
I don’t like to think that my mother was a bit of a slut but at this point, I can’t dismiss anything.
“I’ll add that one to the bottom of the list. God! It’s driving me crazy. We never had a normal childhood but everything that’s come up since she died is just on another level.”
“Why didn’t you have a normal childhood?”
I sigh and meet his gaze. Normally, I would never unload this much of my past onto a person I barely know but the more I talk to him, the better I feel and something inside me, something I can’t ignore, is telling me to trust him.
“As soon as Theo and I were born, my mom hit the road with us. We lived in roadside motels, bouncing from city to city every few months until we turned six and Mom brought us to Baton Rouge.”
“So, she was a nomad?” he asks and I shake my head.
“I don’t know why we lived like that but I doubt it. Once we settled here, she stayed in the same house until the day she died and seemed perfectly content.”
“That is weird,” he says, his voice trailing off as Mia approaches with our drinks.
“Your food will be right out.”
“Thanks, Mia.” I smile at her and when Lincoln turns to look out the window she flashes me a thumbs-up and I roll my eyes. When she leaves, I glance over at Lincoln.
“You got any Valentine’s Day plans for tomorrow?” he asks and I laugh.
“What part of “I haven’t dated in eight years” made you think I would have Valentine’s Day plans? Why? Do you?”
“Naw, as you’ve pointed out, I’m not really the type.”
I nod. “Right.”
Even though I knew that and even though it’s stupid as hell, hearing him admit that things between us could never be more than friends with benefits stings more than I would like to admit.
Chapter Eight
Lincoln
“Let’s get some wine glasses and pop this baby open,” one of Tate’s friends says as they gather in her living room, curled up on the couches. Tate leaves the room and I watch her walk into the kitchen. She stops in front of the sink and braces her hands on the counter and drops her head.
“So fucking stupid,” she mutters to herself and I can’t look away from the screen, enthralled by the woman who’s been haunting my dreams since the first moment I saw her. My mind drifts back to my shower this morning when I jerked off to images of her in my mind and experienced the most intense orgasm of my fucking life as my cock grows hard again. It’s so much more than that, though.
Yeah, I’d do just about anything to get this sexy, bold woman underneath me but whenever I think about that being it, about ending it after one night like I always do, an unexplainable panic rises up in me. And although I’ve spent a fair amount of time picturing her naked, I also imagine taking her out on a proper date. In my mind, she’ll wear a dress that hugs her lush curves and teases me with all the possibilities once we get back to her house and the soft glow of candlelight will shine in her eyes as she breaks my balls about something stupid.
“Fuck,” I mutter, tossing the tablet in the passenger seat of the van before glancing up at her house. I’m losing my fucking mind over this woman. It’s not me and I’m in so fucking far over my head. Maybe, when this is all over, I’ll finally spend a night screwing her brains out and all this shit will pass so I can get back to my life.