8. Josie
josie
. . .
“Where’re we going now?” I asked, sliding into the passenger seat of Lincoln’s old truck. A thin stream of coffee-flavored ice cream ran over my fingers, and I ran my tongue along my skin. “Shit, sorry. I’m making a mess.”
“Nowhere if you keep doing that,” Lincoln groaned, following suit. He ran his hands through his hair. “Seriously, woman. Why’re you apologizing? You’re killing me here.” He pointed to where his jeans were tightening.
An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it down. “Sounds like a you problem. Not my fault it’s so easy to get you riled up,” I quipped, wiping away the sticky remnants. “Seriously, you might want to get that checked out. It’s slightly alarming.”
“Wasn’t an issue until I met you, darlin’. Problem solved. You should prescribe me something,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and turning the ignition.
I couldn’t stop my smile as he rolled down the windows and cranked up the music. He put on an old playlist and let the Commodores fill the silence. It’d been years since I’d driven down Main Street in Pinecrest, but it was just as picturesque as I remembered. Nearly every shop was locally owned, except the Dairy Queen on the edge of town.
Our family came to spend a few weeks during school breaks when I was little. Between Dad’s training schedule and the packed calendars of three teenage girls, our vacations were few and far between. It was a nice change of pace to come back and experience it with someone who knew the best spots in town.
From the moment Lincoln and I left Frank’s bar, we’d been glued at the hip. We counted the passing hours with languid kisses and mind-blowing orgasms. When we’d gotten back to his house, I sent a single text to my sister telling her not to worry about me—I was okay and would be home in a week or two—before turning my phone off.
And I’d never felt freer.
I’d checked on my cabin this morning while Lincoln ran inventory at the bar. Apparently, his boss had called and told him to get his ass back to work before he got fired. It was almost enough to make me feel bad about monopolizing his time. When I tried to apologize, he’d placed his hand over my mouth and forced me to ride his fingers until I saw stars.
Needless to say, I wasn’t really sorry after that.
My cabin still sat empty, untouched by the world. It’d been freshly cleaned, smelling of Windex and fabric softener. My sister, Cleo, had likely called ahead to the cleaning service when I tore out of Texas. My dad had friends in the area from his rodeo days, and they came every few months to ensure everything was in working order.
Sitting in the drive, I considered staying here like I was supposed to. This whole trip was supposed to be my opportunity to get my head right. It didn’t look like it was going to happen, though. Nothing was appealing about staying in that cold house alone when I could drive a few miles down the mountain and be back in Lincoln’s arms.
That's precisely how I ended up sitting shotgun in his truck, licking up melting ice cream while he laughed at the mess I was making.
Lincoln was so easygoing. Nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers or get under his skin. It was one of the things I found so attractive about him. Most of the guys I’d dated had a short fuse and an even shorter attention span. I was no stranger to being chastised, especially regarding my inability to make quick decisions.
Lincoln hadn’t batted an eye when I’d taken fifteen minutes to decide on an ice cream flavor. When anxiety had begun prickling my skin, I’d tried to cancel my order. I’d much rather walk out empty-handed than cause a scene. But he hadn’t let me. He stepped to my side and touched my back to steady my nerves without me saying a word.
How was it possible we’d only known each other for a handful of days? I didn’t put much stock into things like fate, but I could’ve sworn there’d been some weird magnetic pull that led me to pull into that damn bar. There hadn’t been a moment of awkwardness that had me second-guessing my place by his side—no red flags that’d sent me running for the hills.
Everything was natural between us, like picking up on something we’d already started rather than discovering something new.
“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Lincoln asked over the roar of the engine. He leaned over and turned the radio down.
I chewed on my lip, turning in my seat to face him. He wore a faded t-shirt with Frank’s logo and a backward-facing cap. Dark aviators slipped down his strong nose as he glanced over.
“All of this is kind of crazy, don’t you think?” I asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I mean, I don’t know you—not really. You could be an axe murderer playing the long game, and I’m just your unsuspecting victim who fell for your gruff cowboy charm.”
His laugh was deep and rich, like the smell of molasses in the air. “Gruff cowboy charm? Do you think I could quote you on that? I think that’d make a great tagline to use when they talk about all my murders.”
“You know what I’m saying?—”
“What if you’re the murderer?” he cut in, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “I’ve just welcomed you into my home—my bed, no less. It’d be nothing for you to off me in the middle of the night.”
I covered my face with my hands, groaning. “Never mind, forget I said anything.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Lincoln said, steering the truck off the road and putting it in park.
“What’re you doing?” I asked, watching the cars zoom past us on the highway.
Lincoln reached over, unbuckling my seatbelt and setting me onto his lap. My protests quickly turned into nervous laughter as his hands found my hips. My body was trapped between the steering wheel and his own. “Alright, talk to me, darlin’. What’s going on?”
My anxiety had reached the point of no return—where all rational thinking had left the station, and I was on a one-way train to nowhere good. My chest tightened, constricting against my frantically beating heart.
This was where I’d ruin it—this thing I was already terrified to lose. The man who’d been so gentle to a woman who’d been running from bad decisions. Why’d I have to open my big, fat mouth? I should’ve shoved those fears down and capped them like I’d done so many times before.
I tried to laugh, but it was hollow. “Nothing. I’m just… I don’t kn ow. I’m just being silly?—”
Lincoln shook his head. “Now, why don’t you try again. I know you’re lying.”
I leaned back against the wheel, frustration lacing every word. “Okay, but that’s my point! How do you know I’m lying? Don’t you think that’s weird?”
“Nope,” he said without hesitation. “Why would it be?”
“Because I’m just some girl you fucked on a pool table after a four-hour conversation.”
Lincoln gnawed on the inside of his cheek, letting out a huff of breath. “That really what you think, darlin’? That you’re some fuck to me? Hell, if that’s all this was, don’t you think I’d have turned you loose by now? I sure wouldn’t be taking off work and buying you ice cream, would I?”
His hand came up, cupping my jaw. “Truth be told, I don’t have all the answers, Josie. I wish I could give you what you’re looking for. All I know is that I don’t plan to let those thoughts in your head ruin whatever this could be. We could burn out by morning. If that’s the case, so be it. But why don’t we just keep doing what we’re doing and see where it goes?”
I threw my arms around Lincoln’s neck, kissing him with all the need I struggled to put into words. He nipped at my lips and matched my fervor. The rising panic I’d felt moments ago was chased away by each pass of his lips. I rolled my neck as he trailed kisses toward my pulse.
I could feel him hardening beneath me, bucking up into my center like a man possessed. “God, Lincoln?—”
The horn blared as he pushed my back into the steering wheel. “Shit,” he said, laughing as he pulled me tight against his chest. “Well, if that friendly couple over there didn’t know what we were doing before, they sure as shit do now.”
“What?” I said, scrambling off him. I looked out of the front window, watching as a man and woman stared at us in horror from the lot across the street. “Oh, God.” I sunk deeper into the seat, tucking my head into my shirt as Lincoln laughed
“Doin’ that won’t change a thing, darlin’.”
I peeked out. “How long were they there?”
“Oh, I clocked them the moment we pulled over. Would’ve moved along somewhere new if you hadn’t started talking nonsense.” His lips ticked up, warming me all over. His head rolled against the seat, chocolate eyes taking me in. “But there were more important things on my mind.”
“Is that right, cowboy?” I asked, biting my lip.
“That’s right, darlin’. Now, how about I show you my favorite spot in the mountains. There’s a real pretty view, and no one around for miles.”
Lincoln stood behind the bar, laughing at something Frank said as he wiped the top with an old rag. I watched their interaction with a smile from my seat beside the old man. It had quickly become one of my favorite things.
It’d been five days since I drove across the Tennessee state line.
Five days of absolute bliss at Lincoln’s side, getting lost on mountain back roads and visiting his favorite spots in town.
Five days of avoiding my family’s cabin, choosing instead to sleep in a stranger’s bed and have the best sex of my life.
Five days of knowing all of this had an expiration date I refused to acknowledge.
We spent our days driving up and down mountain roads with the windows down in Lincoln’s old Ford. He showed me the little house where he’d grown up and took me to his favorite restaurants. The rest of the time we’d spent in his bed, unable to keep our hands off one another. We talked in the quiet moments after sex. I’d learned the way he took his coffee, how he preferred chicken to steak, and the scent of his favorite candle.
This familiarity was something I’d never experienced before. If Lincoln’s long, lingering touches were anything to go by, he hadn’t either. We were like two magnets, our force too strong to ignore.
The night after my momentary freak out on the highway, Lincoln hadn’t let me out of his sight. I’d come to work with him every night, watching him talk to strangers and friends alike. I’d tried to stay out the way of paying customers, but Frank and Lincoln were having none of that. The old bar owner welcomed me with open arms. I liked him. He was the type of gruff old bastard who didn’t take any shit. Best of all, he had more dirt on Lincoln than I ever imagined possible.
Honestly, Frank reminded me a bit of my dad. He’d told me about his years spent as a bull rider. By my calculations, his time likely overlapped with Dad’s. I’d almost asked him about it a time or two, but I decided against it. Family was the one line Lincoln and I hadn’t crossed.
“Last call! Get your beers, pay your tabs, and then get on home.” Lincoln’s voice boomed out over the low buzz of conversation. Groups began gathering their belongings, meandering toward the door with glazed eyes and high spirits. I downed the rest of my beer and grabbed an empty grey tub to pick up half-drunk glasses.
As the last customer walked out, Lincoln flipped off the flashing neon ‘open’ sign and locked the door.
“You look good in neon, darlin’,” he said, stealing a kiss and the tub of dishes. “Grab the broom for me?”
This had become our nightly routine. He always washed the dishes while I swept and mopped. Sometimes, just like the first night, he wandered over to the jukebox and picked a song. Then he’d sing into the worn brown handle, putting on a concert meant just for me .
It was my favorite time of day.
Each time, it made me want to dance along with him. I favored the slow tunes, the ones he’d croon softly as he wiped down the bar. I wanted to hear him whisper them into my ear as he swayed to the beat of the familiar song.
I’d just grabbed a hold of the broom when Frank’s voice made me pause.
“You got a great girl there, Linc,” he said, tapping his fingers on the bar top.
“Yeah, I do,” Lincoln said, a smile in his voice.
“When’s she going back?”
My grip on the handle grew tighter. I peeked around the corner, watching them even though I knew better.
I learned from an early age what eavesdropping would get you. That was how I found out dogs didn’t just go to a different farm to live out the rest of their days.
“Dunno,” Lincoln said. “I haven’t asked her.”
A pause. “Don’t you think that might be a good idea?”
Lincoln shook his head as he closed the lid to the dishwasher. He braced his hands on either side of the sink, letting his head drop between his shoulders. “Probably, but I don’t want to. Not yet. Besides, what if she decides to stay? She said she was looking for an escape, a place to clear her head… What if this is that?”
I closed my eyes and let my head fall against the handle. This had gone too far. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t stay. The thought had crossed my mind a million times since I’d walked through the front door of this bar and into Lincoln’s arms. I had a life back in Texas—my family, the ranch, and a job I didn’t completely hate. Dad wanted to bring me on full time at the ranch to alleviate his stress, and I was excited about the prospect of doing something worthwhile.
God, why hadn’t I left earlier? There’d be no way to leave without hurting one or both of us. There’d been so many signs to go. It’d felt too good. And what was that saying about things being too good to be true?
For five days, I’d felt blissfully free from all responsibilities and burdens, letting myself be blissfully happy. But things were changing. Getting too serious too fast. I would’ve been a damn liar if I said I hadn’t thought about staying in this state.
In this bar.
In Lincoln’s arms.
But I couldn’t linger any longer. I pushed open the door leading back into the bar as Frank began to speak, but he saw me and stopped. I looked toward Lincoln, who gave me a soft, tender smile that broke my heart into a million pieces.
I needed to leave Tennessee, and not look back.
Tonight.
“Yes, yes, yes ,” I chanted, pulling on Lincoln’s hair as he stared up at me from between my legs. I closed my eyes, giving myself over to the building pressure low in my stomach as I ground against his mouth.
“I want you to come, baby. Let that pretty cunt soak my face.” His words were a deep rumble, promising pleasure as his tongue parted my lips, and he clamped down on my clit.
Oh God , I was done for. The force of my orgasm had me doubling over, grasping his headboard in a white-knuckled grip. I tried to raise up, but he held onto my thighs and forced me to stay right where I was as aftershocks wracked my body.
I sagged against the iron railing as he slipped from underneath me. I felt his presence at my back, lips skating along my shoulders and neck as he whispered praises in my ear. “You did so good, Josie, but can you give me another? I can’t get enough of you.”
If it’d been anyone else, I likely would’ve said no. Then again, if it’d been anyone else, I would’ve been faking my way through another round of subpar sex.
The clock on Lincoln’s nightstand read 3:00 AM. We’d spent the last few hours tangled in his sheets after coming home from the bar. I’d lost count of the number of times he’d taken me, though the number of condom wrappers scattered around the room said enough.
I guess we were going to add one more to the pile.
I’d vowed to talk to Lincoln once we walked through his cabin door. To tell him that no matter what we felt, there was no future for us that didn’t end in heartbreak, but the words died on my lips the moment he smiled and pulled me in for a kiss.
How was I supposed to leave this man? This perfect, wonderful man.
I cursed myself for stopping at Frank’s. If I’d just driven through, I’d never have met Lincoln. I would’ve spent the past few days stitching my pride back together before returning to Texas.
Not falling in love with a beautiful man from Tennessee in five days.
The thought was terrifying because it shouldn’t have been possible. How can you love someone in such a short time?
No, this was infatuation at best. Once I was home and the immediate ache of leaving Tennessee had passed, so would this feeling.
Right?
I should get up right now and go, but that need diminished as Lincoln turned my limp body around to face him and pressed a kiss to my forehead. He laid me down on my back, letting his heady scent envelop me.
I’d never think of pine and leather the same way.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Lincoln whispered, rolling a condom on. He stared down at me, fisting his cock before notching it at my entrance. My response came as a whimper as he slowly sank inside of me, running his hands along my back. His low groan sent goosebumps skittering across my skin.
He drew my arms up, wrapping them around his neck until we shared breaths. His body began to move with slow, skillful precision. Each thrust was met with a languid kiss, drawing me tighter until I was begging him to move faster.
This felt different than all the other times. It was slower and full of an emotion I didn’t want to think about. If I did, I knew tears would follow, and I was determined not to shed a single one until I crossed the state line.
But as Lincoln coaxed the orgasm from my body before following with his own, I couldn’t deny that he’d just made love to me when I was planning on breaking his heart.