Chapter 6
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.”
“You don’t need dickhead clients.”
Why was I moving closer to her? My chest brushed against hers.
“Well then, I guess that rules you out as a potential client?” she said, and her lips turned up in the corners as if she were proud of herself.
“Are you asking me to be your client, sweetheart?” My voice was gruff.
Her gaze searched mine. “You want to tell me your story, Lincoln Hendrix?”
“You want to know my story?”
“Not particularly,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But the world wants to hear it, so I wouldn’t mind telling it.”
“You sure you can handle it?” My tongue swiped out to wet my bottom lip because my mouth was dry from standing this close to her.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I can easily handle it.”
“If you tell it, you’ll need to shadow me while I’m here. Get the whole story. You won’t have time for clowns like Breen fucking Lockhart while you’re working with me.”
What the fuck was I doing?
“Who has the big head now?” she asked as she raised a brow.
And damn, did I want to dip down and taste her sweet mouth.
Press her against this wall and bury myself inside her.
Dip my fingers into those jeans and see how wet she was for me.
Had I ever wanted anyone more?
“I told you. There’s nothing small about me.”
Her heated gaze locked with mine.
“Coming through!” someone shouted, and we both startled. I stepped to the side, just as a woman came through the doorway leading to the kitchen, carrying a large tray loaded with plates.
She looked at me before glancing over at Brinkley and smiling. “Hey, Brinks. What’s going on out here?”
“Hi, Danielle. I was just coming to get his to-go order.”
The other woman chuckled and walked off, and Brinkley squared her shoulders.
“Is this for real, or are you messing with me because you don’t like my client?”
“If you agree to do it, you do it right. I’ll tell you everything over the next few weeks, and I’ll let you know what is on and off the record.
” I held up my hand as she started to ask about where I’d be playing next season.
“I haven’t decided where I’m going to play yet, and that’s the truth.
But I’ll agree to let you be the first to share it. ”
“Why are you suddenly doing this?” She narrowed her gaze and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I don’t have a fucking clue. Maybe it’s the small town rubbing off on me. My agent keeps nagging me to do some interviews, so this will keep him quiet and make everyone happy. And I can do it all right here in Cottonwood Cove.”
“Lucky you. And an amazing reporter just happens to live here.” She tapped her finger against her lips. “Oh, that’s right. You know that. You’re the reason she had to tuck her tail between her legs and move back home.”
Her tail wasn’t the only thing I wanted to put between her legs.
Jesus. What the fuck was going on with me?
I was not that guy.
I didn’t fuck around with women who hated me, nor did I mix business with pleasure.
Ever.
She annoyed me. She was stubborn and argumentative.
So what if I’d gotten off to thoughts of her in the shower a few times?
I wouldn’t act on it.
“If you can’t move forward, this won’t work. Maybe it was meant to be. Now you’re here, and you can have full access to my life. Who’s the lucky one now?”
“I’ll do what I have to do to build my business. Count me in.” She rolled her eyes. “Stay here. I’ll get your food.”
I pulled myself together while I waited.
I’d never wanted to open my life to the world. To open myself up that way.
I’d prided myself on keeping my life private.
Separate from football.
She came back immediately and handed me the bag. “So, how does this work?”
“Are you available tomorrow morning to start?”
“I am. I can work on Breen’s story outside of our work hours.”
I handed her my phone. “Put in your number. I’ll text you where to meet me for our run tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, I’m running with you now?”
“Do you want to see what I do? The work I put in? All of it?”
“I do.”
“I’ll text you the time. How are you getting home?”
“What?” she hissed.
“Watch your back with that guy.”
“Careful, Captain. You almost seem like you care,” she said, backing away with a cocky grin on her face.
“In your dreams, sweetheart.”
I made my way to the front of the restaurant before bumping into Lionel, who always seemed to find me every time I came to pick up my food.
“Mr. Hendrix. Um, hi. Er, hello, sir. I thought I saw you come in.”
I tried not to laugh. He was always tripping over his words. “Relax, Lionel. You can call me Lincoln. Brinkley’s brother owns this place, right?”
“Hugh? Yeah. He’s my boss.”
“Is he around, by any chance?” I asked. I didn’t know why I was so concerned about her. She wasn’t my problem. Hell, I hardly knew the woman.
Well, she was technically working for me now.
The least I could do was make sure she was okay.
“Yep. He’s in the kitchen. Do you want me to go get him?” He looked thrilled that I was asking him for something, which was somewhat humorous.
“That would be great. It’ll just take a minute.”
What the fuck was I doing? Lionel hurried off just as a teenage girl that was always standing behind the hostess stand approached me.
“You’re the football player, right? Henry Lincoln?”
“Lincoln Hendrix.”
“I’m Brandy, Lionel’s girlfriend,” she said with a wide grin on her face. “He’s a super fan, I guess. He can’t stop talking about you. So, I wanted to see if maybe you could help me out with a surprise for his birthday? It’s our senior year, so I want to make it extra special.”