Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
The throbbing in my leg and the soreness in my armpits intensifies as the night goes on but after beer pong, I’m pleasantly numb enough to stop caring.
Linden has been careful not to drink too much.
Or at least that’s what it looks like to me.
He also keeps scanning the room when he thinks no one is watching.
What is he looking for? Is he hoping to cozy up to someone tonight? And how does that fit with him being my fake date for Dad’s retirement party?
If you’re a good girl I’ll pretend kiss you in front of your ex.
Imagining that kiss should not make my face buzz.
“So where do you fly?” the firefighter with the mustache asks me as our foursome leaves the game room. He told me his name but I’ve already forgotten it. Grant? Gary?
“Most of the time, Alaska,” I half-shout over the noise. “But Mexico sometimes. About twice a year, Asia.”
“Where’s your favorite destination?”
I reel back in mock disbelief. “That’s like asking if I have a favorite kid. ”
His eyes tense. “You have kids?”
“No.” I focus on my three-point turn to get around the corner—it’s trickier than it looks. Especially when tipsy. “Do you?” I ask Grant/Gary.
“Nah,” he replies over the loud music and conversations.
Back at the keg, while Linden fills my cup, I’m scanning the kitchen for a stool or some place to sit down for a minute when the back door opens, bringing in a gust of cool air and two brawny-looking guys laughing about something.
Next to me, Linden stiffens.
One of the guys locks eyes with Linden, then he turns away with his friend and disappears down the hall.
Linden hands me my beer.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods.
“We can go.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Are you having a good time?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s stay.”
Annaleise thankfully finds me a stool and parks it near the food table, then introduces me to more of her friends, plus Charlotte and Morgan Hannah from Boxcar Doves, here to play a set later.
I tell the rattlesnake story a few more times.
Linden is never more than five feet away from me.
He seems to know a lot of people here—but I guess that makes sense since he grew up in Finn River.
Plus he’s a firefighter, which in a small town like this probably gives him minor celebrity status.
So why do they all act surprised to see him tonight?
A little later when Annaleise and I take a trip to the bathroom, I realize my fun tickets are running out.
My armpits ache, my leg is angry, and the noise level is starting to feel oppressive instead of inviting.
It’s been a fun night and I’m glad I came, but it’s time for a victory lap and a trip to the door.
Inside the bathroom, with the noise muted, I lean back against the counter and release a deep sigh.
“Worn out yet?” Annaleise asks on her way to the toilet.
“Getting there,” I say while she pees.
“How much longer are you staying at Linden’s?”
“He’s back on shift tomorrow, so I was going to go back tonight.” Though we didn’t move back any of my things. Linden went for a run and I had a nap, and then he made me dinner. Again. Tonight it was barbecued ribs, homemade coleslaw, and skillet cornbread.
I’ll add tongue. I don’t know how to reconcile what I know about Linden with this version of him.
Have these past months of Feuding Neighbors been some kind of foreplay?
Have I been so busy throwing my anger at him that I missed how hot he looks in a pair of Levi’s or the sincerity in his intelligent eyes when he smiles?
Annaleise flushes, and we swap places. “Need help?”
I shake my head. After a couple days on crutches, I’ve got it wired. “Who was that guy that came in when we went back to the keg?”
Annaleise glances up from the sink where she’s washing her hands. “What guy?”
“The one who locked eyes with Linden.” I describe what I remember. Tall, blue eyes, with a scar on his cheek.
She dries her hands on a towel. “A firefighter, I think? I don’t know him.”
I flush and brace off the seat to stand then gather my crutches.
“Linden’s never come to this party before,” she says while I swing to the sink.
“He sleeps outside,” I blurt .
Annaleise gives me a curious frown. “Why?”
“He says it’s to watch the stars.”
Her eyes narrow. “Is that the only reason?”
I turn off the tap and Annaleise hands me the towel. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe it’s to keep from wandering into a certain guest room.”
I scoff. “It’s not?—”
“—like that?” She crosses her arms. “Yeah, you said that already.”
“Quinn thinks I should?—”
“Quinn doesn’t have ground-level intel.” Her steely gaze softens. “Go ahead and get some play if that’s what you’re after, just know that’s all he’s good for.”
My pulse taps low and heavy into my belly. “He’s a player?”
She squints one eye shut, thinking. “More like emotionally unavailable.”
“Oh.” That doesn’t sound too terrible. “So am I though.” At least right now.
We’re talking about rebound sex here , Quinn pointed out.
Tonight, I’m just buzzed enough to ignore my insecurities and the fact that just a week ago I was convinced Linden was a jackass.
What would rebound sex with Linden be like?
Freeing? Fun? Would I hate myself in the morning?
Annaleise tucks a stray curl behind my ear. “Just be careful, okay?”
I give her a brave smile. “I’ve got this.”
Do I?
When we return, Linden is in a group by the food table, one hand wrapped around the cup he’s been nursing all night and the other in his back pocket. The instant I step into the light of the room, his gaze lifts to mine.
My belly flips.
I swallow hard and paste on a confident smile— the one that soothes stressed passengers or reassures them during bouts of unexpected turbulence.
“You are welcome to stay here,” Annaleise says in a low tone. “The party will probably wind down in a few hours.”
“I think we’ll head home pretty soon,” I tell her as I follow her into the kitchen.
With a nod, Annaleise slips into the throng while I swing over to the sink. A drink of water before the trip home sounds like a solid plan.
“Looks like you could use some help.”
I glance up. It’s the guy who had a staring contest with Linden earlier. His friend is standing next to him laughing with two women who look familiar, though I can’t place them.
“Sure, thanks.”
The guy fills a cup of water and hands it to me. I lean my butt against the counter so I can guzzle it.
“What’s your name, doll?” he asks when I pause for a breath.
The tiny hairs on the backs of my arms wake up. Doll?
Linden appears out of nowhere. It’s so loud and crowded in the kitchen I didn’t even see him coming.
Though he doesn’t touch me, I feel the charge in the space that separates us.
And coupled with the sudden chill in the air, I’m not sure if I should lean closer to him or take a giant, self-preserving step back.
Linden says nothing, but the guy’s smile turns hard. “That new therapy you’ve been trying must be working cuz wow, you made it out of the house. Or did they change your meds?”
Uh oh.
“Didn’t you hear?” Linden says. “I started sacrificing assholes during the full moon. It’s worked wonders.”
With a fake laugh, the guy swings his hand up, like he’s going to grab Linden’s shoulder. “Too bad it causes erectile dysfu?—”
Linden locks onto the guy’s wrist with one hand and braces the other off his bicep, putting his arm in what looks like a potentially bone-breaking position in less time than it took me to blink.
“Don’t,” Linden warns. His eyes aren’t angry, but they’re intense and serious, his forearm muscles flexed. Ready.
I don’t know what’s going on here but it’s clear if these two don’t untangle their horns, one or both of them is going to get hurt. It’ll start with Linden breaking this guy’s arm and I don’t think it will stop there.
The other guy shakes off Linden’s hold and brushes past us.
When he’s out of sight, only then does Linden turn to me with a grimace. “Sorry.”
“You okay?” I tuck my crutches into place and push off the counter.
“Are you ready to go?” There’s a note of pleading in his tone that makes my heart turn rubbery inside my chest.
I let my unanswered question go for now. “Yeah.”
We start moving toward the door. It’s less crowded now but the music is louder. Or maybe I’m just craving the soft caress of lake waves against the sandy shore or the stillness of the morning.
Linden touches my low back. It’s only the tip of his fingers against my bare skin, but the shiver that climbs up my spine makes my breath hitch in my throat and a needy ache thrum deep in my core.
That old Fleetwood Mac song rings through my mind. About players who only love when they’re playing, and a heartbeat that drives you mad.
Outside, the cool air wraps around me, sending an electric pulse skipping over my skin.
“You want me to bring the truck?” Linden asks, his brows knitting together.
“I’m okay.” We clear the driveway and turn down the sidewalk. “Who was that?”
He gives me a sideways glance. “Vance Neely. ”
“I take it you two have a history?”
He inhales a full breath and lets it out, puffing his cheeks. “It’s good we left.”
So we’re back to him sidestepping my questions. I release a frustrated sigh.
My dad was a football coach. I’ve seen my share of testosterone in action. But what I just witnessed wasn’t some pissing contest. The strain between Linden and Vance Neely has deep roots.
At the truck, Linden unlocks my door and opens it. In a move we have practiced, he sets my crutches aside then grabs me around the waist to lift me in. His warm hands on my waist and his closeness send a delicious hum through my core.
But it’s like he’s on autopilot, or maybe he’s still processing whatever just happened, because he pulls back and shuts my door. Once he’s behind the wheel, we sit in the darkness.
The entire left side of my body feels heavy and my kneecap aches. My left toes are cold, which the doctors said to expect for a while.
“Did I do something?” I want to reach for his hand but I don’t feel like he’d welcome my touch. It’s confusing. One minute, he’s got his hands on me. The next, he’s erected an invisible force field to keep me away.
He glances at me, surprised. “Why would you think that?”
Because give a girl a void and she’ll fill it with self-blame. “You didn’t have to come tonight.”
“I wanted to.”
“Why?”
He flashes me a stern glance. “Because I told you I’d take care of you.”
“I wouldn’t have gone home with him.” The words are all wrong but it’s too late to take them back.
Linden’s body goes stone-still and all emotion drains from his eyes. It’s like looking down, down, into an abyss. Then he slides his key into the ignition. The truck rumbles to life, then he checks the road and pulls onto the street.
I sigh out my open window and let the summer night air cool my cheeks.