Trigger checked on me from time to time, reminding Ace and Brick to behave themselves, to which they would simply nod, occasionally tossing a wary glance at each other. Or, at least, that was my interpretation of the look they shared.
“My tongue is numb.” I laughed, smacking my lips together to make a weird sound.
“That’s because Trigger poured quite a few shots for you,” Ace replied, shaking his head at me when my mouth popped open dramatically.
“I didn’t have any shots.”
“What do you think is in your drinks?” When I stared at him like the proverbial deer in headlights, his grin got bigger, that damn dimple popping out. Or should I say sinking in? “Vodka.” He answered his own question. I stuck my finger in the remainder of my drink, pulled it out and put the digit in my mouth.
“It’s good,” I said, draining the rest of the contents. Trigger was back in front of me with another, only this time the color of the concoction was clear.
“It’s water. You gotta drink up or else you’re gonna have a nasty headache later.” The old guy walked away to tend to something else, leaving the tall glass of water a fingertip’s reach from me.
“You’re not feelin’ any pain, are ya?” Brick asked, leaning closer, his scent infiltrating my senses and making my head swoon. He smelled good.
“Nope. And I gotta tell ya,” I mumbled, slapping his arm. “It’s refreshing.”
“At least here, you don’t have to worry—”
“Shit!” Ace groaned on the other side of me.
“What?” his buddy asked, never finishing his sentence.
“Linc.” Ace pointed toward the door. “He’s comin’ over here and he doesn’t look happy.”
23
“Lincoln’s here?” I hadn’t realized I yelled my question until I saw Brick jam his finger in his ear as a joke, although the amused look he had on his face disappeared the second Lincoln walked up next to him.
“What’s goin’ on here?” Lincoln glared at his friends, but his eyes softened when they fell on me. “Maddie? You okay?”
“Never been better.” My speech was sluggish, and my vision blurred when I turned my head too quickly, but otherwise, I had no complaints.
“That’s good.” He looked at the empty glass in front of me. “How many of those have you had?” I couldn’t tell if he was upset or curious. After all, he was the one who told me I could come out of the room, even going so far as to remind me there was a bar.
I held my hand in front of me and started counting, my fingers flying up until I hit the total. “Four.” Extending my arm, my hand was inches from his gorgeous face, the sudden intrusion into his personal space making his eyebrows quirk upward. I lowered my arm and rested my hand in my lap while I studied him.
Lincoln was stunning, from the style of his hair to his gorgeous eyes, to his full lips, to his amazing physique. And the way he looked after me, first by saving me, a stranger, from their club’s enemy, then making sure I was as comfortable as possible, both physically and emotionally. There were no words to describe how much I liked him, feelings that were still unfolding inside me. My attraction toward him was more than his good looks. It might be the alcohol talking here, but I thought I could see his soul.
He lifted the glass and smelled it, then took a sip, although all that remained was ice. Looking toward Trigger, he asked, “What were your givin’ her?”
“Screwdrivers. I only put a shot in each.”
“She only weighs like ninety pounds, ol’ man. Didn’t you think that might be too much for her?” Lincoln placed his hand on the bar and leaned toward Trigger, but the moment I grabbed his arm and tugged, he spun his attention back on me.
“I asked him for them. Don’t be mad.” I pulled on his arm a bit more until he completely faced me, his closeness making my head spin. Or was that the vodka? “He gave me food and water, too. To make sure I didn’t get sick.”
I could tell he didn’t want to, but he smiled and relaxed, rubbing the top of my arm. “I’m happy you got out of the room.”
“Me too.” I leaned closer to him and said, “Brick said I’m beautiful.” I thought I whispered those words, but apparently, I didn’t because I heard Brick curse under his breath next to me.
“He did, did he?” Lincoln looked past me and shot his friend daggers.
“Yup.” Since I was being brave, I asked him a question I never would have otherwise, but being tipsy, okay… probably drunk, gave me the courage, and nerve, to find out what Lincoln thought of me. “Do you think I’m beautiful?”
I tried to focus on his face, but I saw two of him. I lowered my gaze and waited for his answer, one which hopefully wouldn’t completely dash all hope I still had left.
“Of course, I do. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I didn’t take offense to the word “thing” because that meant he viewed me as the most beautiful of all the females, all the sunsets, and of all the flowers.
“So, you think I’m a flower,” I mumbled, dipping my fingers into my glass and pulling out a piece of ice, the frozen water melting some before I even put it in my mouth.
“A flower?” He didn’t give it much thought before he replied, “Sure. You’re a flower. Now, how about we get you back to the room so you can lie down for a bit?”
“Okay.” I didn’t resist, because although I had a surprisingly good time with his friends, I wanted to be alone with him.
I shifted in my seat and planted my feet on the ground, but when I stood up, I was a little wobbly. Lincoln held my arm until I found my footing, lowering his hand until he clasped mine in his, leading me away from the others. Before we got very far, though, Trigger stepped in front of him, and because he stopped abruptly, I ran into him. I smelled him like some kind of crazy person, but fortunately, I didn’t think he noticed.
“She’s not in complete control of her faculties,” the old guy said. “Watch yourself.”
“What kind of person do you take me for?” Lincoln’s voice was low but angry, like he tried to control his tone so as not to frighten me.
“I know you’re sweet on her.”
That’s the second time someone said he’s sweet on me.
“I’m not an asshole, Trigger.” Lincoln huffed, released my hand, and guided me toward the hallway, his hand resting on my lower back and warming me more than any alcohol could do.
“What did he mean?”
“He’s worried about you. That’s all.”
“Are you mad?”
“Not at you,” he replied curtly, shutting the door behind me as soon as we entered the room. I headed toward the bed, feeling like I needed to sit down, while Lincoln leaned against the dresser, watching me the entire time.
Every thought I had scrambled into the next. I wanted to thank him again for saving me. I wanted to ask him about this club, about his family. I wanted to hear him say he thought I was beautiful a thousand more times.
“My mom called and said she’ll be here soon to check on you.” He smiled. “She likes you.”