On the Shore (Cottonwood Cove, #3)(15)

I chuckled. “You make it sound so dirty.”

“Any time you want to make it dirty, you just say the word. I’d lose my playboy ways for a girl like you.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”

“He does,” a deep voice growled, and I looked up to see an annoyed-looking Lincoln Hendrix standing in front of our table.

What the hell was he doing here?

And why was my heart racing at just the sight of him?

It had been over a week since I’d seen him, and I’d actually been disappointed that I hadn’t run into him.

Why did he look so angry?

And why was I so happy that he was here?





six





Lincoln





Breen fucking Lockhart was not a guy I cared for. And for whatever reason, seeing him with Brinkley Reynolds had my blood boiling.

Was this her fucking boyfriend?

“Lincoln Hendrix? What a pleasant surprise,” the dickhead said as he smirked at me.

We were two professional athletes who lived in San Francisco, so we’d met several times. He’d also fucked my ex-girlfriend while we were together and made sure to tell me when we’d run into one another shortly after our breakup a year ago. I’d been happy to be out of the relationship, and there were no broken hearts there, but a dude who was proud to tell you that he’d hooked up with your girl while you were together was not a good guy in my book.

I was far from perfect, but I’d never fuck with someone’s relationship, nor would I ever be unfaithful while I was in one.

I’d cut ties long before I’d disrespect a woman.

“Nothing pleasant about it.” I raised a brow.

The fucker just chuckled.

“What are you doing here?” Brinkley asked, but she didn’t sound as venomous as the last time we’d seen one another.

I hadn’t run into her since, and it had irritated the fuck out of me. I’d even tried running at different times in the morning this week to see if she was out there, but I’d had no luck. And I’d come to Reynolds’ every night for the last three days to pick up my to-go order, hoping to see her, but she hadn’t been here.

And now she was here with this asshole?

“I’m picking up dinner and saw you sitting over here with this one,” I said, flicking a thumb at Breen.

“This one? Don’t pretend you don’t know my name or that I’m not the hottest thing on the ice right now.” The fucker smirked.

“Yeah. According to you. You’ve been relevant for a whole fucking fifteen minutes. And with your head being this big, I’d give it fifteen more minutes before it all blows up.”

I’d been around for a while now, and I’d seen athletes like Breen, who finally had their first kickass season after several unimpressive years playing. He’d burned through money, trying to look like a baller his first few years, and now he was actually playing well for the first time in his career, and he couldn’t stop talking about it. Success could go to a guy’s head quickly, and no one lasted very long once they fell off their pedestals.

Because you couldn’t always be on top.

You had to swallow the losses and stay humble through the wins.

Work hard every fucking day, and remember that there was always someone younger, faster, and stronger coming up next.

“Ah… are you still pissed about me fucking your girl back in the day?”

“Sure. I’m really pissed about that,” I said, not hiding the sarcasm.

“Okay, let’s take a time out. Breen, enjoy your wine. I’m going to get his order, and I’ll be back.” Brinkley pushed to her feet.

She was wearing dark jeans, a silky white tank top, and a pair of sexy heels.

Why did that piss me off?

She looked fucking good.

Did she make the effort for him?

Her hand wrapped around my bicep, and she urged me through the dining room and down a hallway, which I assumed led to the kitchen. Once we were out of view of everyone, she whipped around.

“What the hell was that?” She threw her hands in the air.

“What are you doing with that dude? He’s bad fucking news.”

“Well, that’s rich, coming from you. He hasn’t gotten me fired or been escorted out of any establishments yet.” She raised a brow.

“Good Christ, woman. Just trust me on this one.”

“I don’t know why you care. But for your information, he’s a client. I’m writing a story on him,” she said as she backed up against the wall in the dark hallway. I stood so close that I could feel her warm breath on my cheek as she spoke. Lavender and honey flooded my senses. And fuck me if my dick didn’t jump at her nearness.

“Just watch your back.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t know why you’d waste your time on a guy like that.”

“It’s not rocket science. I need to find a job, so I need a story.”

I couldn’t pull my gaze from her plump, pink lips.

“You were offered your job back. Why not just fucking take it?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Not that you’re off the hook for getting me fired, but it was a terrible job, and I’m not going back. It’s time to move up. But in order to do that, I need athletes to interview so I have something to offer.”