Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
WILLA
I woke up like I always did—body sore, mind racing, and already feeling like I was five hours behind on things that needed to be done.
But something was off.
This bed was too soft, the air smelled like bacon and coffee, when no one had made me either in years, and there was a low hum of music coming from somewhere outside my pounding skull.
I opened one eye to take in my surroundings. Then immediately wished I hadn’t. In that brief moment, an ice pick had tried to stab its way through my temple, and I’d realized I was definitely not in my bed.
Or my home, for that matter.
A hoodie I—unfortunately—recognized hung over a definitely-not-my chair in the corner, where a pair of scuffed boots had been kicked off.
A beat-up acoustic guitar leaned against the wall beside a record player and a stack of vinyl half buried under three coffee mugs.
And then there was the low rumble of a deeply masculine laugh coming from somewhere nearby.
A laugh I’d recognize even if I had a full-blown concussion.
Perfect. This was just fucking perfect.
The one time I’d decided to drown my problems in a bottle, I somehow ended up spending the night in Lincoln fucking Steele’s apartment.
Because, apparently, my life could get worse.
Lifting the covers, I took quick stock of the situation—my boots were off, but my clothes were still in place. Well, at least I hadn’t completely lost my damn mind.
Unfortunately, that did exactly nothing to calm the screaming spiral of humiliation rising in my chest. I didn’t remember much about last night. Just an overwhelming sense of dread, hence the need for alcohol and lots of it.
But how the hell did I end up here?
I flopped back onto the pillow and groaned toward the ceiling, certain that however I’d landed here, mortification had been on the menu.
Lincoln chose that moment to stroll toward me from the kitchenette. He had a spatula in one hand, his abs on full display, and a grin aimed at me from that stupidly handsome face. Like the man hadn’t spent the night babysitting my drunk self. The jackass.
If I was dead, this was a very specific version of purgatory. All it needed now was for him to say something mildly goading just to irritate me.
“Before you ask, yes, you can absolutely pledge your undying love to me for saving you from performing a live reading of Bred by the Moonlight last night.”
Annnnd, there it was. Fuck me, this was hell, wasn’t it?
I wanted to snap back at him with one of a hundred retorts like I usually did, but all I could manage was lifting a certain finger in his direction.
He chuckled lowly, his bright blue eyes dancing as he stared down at me. “There’s that biting spirit I missed so much last night.”
I didn’t know what the hell that meant. Wasn’t sure I even wanted to. Because if there was some realm of reality where I didn’t bite Lincoln’s head off every chance I got, well… I didn’t want to hear anything about it.
He gave me a quick once-over, that smile slipping just the slightest, before he met my gaze again. “I made breakfast.”
I side-eyed him. “What about coffee?”
“That too.” With a grin deep enough for his dimples to say hello, he walked backward toward the kitchenette. “C’mon, hellcat. I can’t wait to talk about last night.”
Groaning, I forced myself upright and grabbed the bottle of water from the nightstand. After downing a couple ibuprofen, I shuffled toward him like a zombie. Wishing I felt dead inside.
Lincoln stood in front of the stove, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants and a smirk. His thick, dark hair was a tousled mess. His abs, that perfectly stubbled jawline, and those ridiculous dimples were not.
All the more reasons to hate him. I’d been stockpiling them like gold for years.
“Sleep well, sunshine?” he asked brightly, shooting me a grin.
“Why are you like this?” I mumbled, falling into a chair at the small, round table and dropping my head onto my folded arms.
“Perfectly pleasant? Dunno. I’ve heard it just comes naturally to the most gifted among us.” He set down a coffee cup on the table, nudging my elbow with it, before turning back to the stove.
I lifted my head and stared at the mug suspiciously, because one could never be too careful while ingesting things given by a nemesis. It looked fine. Actually, it looked more than fine… It looked like the perfect shade of caramel and exactly how I usually took my coffee.
But poison was colorless, and looks could be deceiving.
“If I wanted to kill you this morning, I could’ve already done it. And it would’ve been more creative than poison,” he said, eyes locked on mine as he drank from my coffee cup like a smug little asshole.
“That’s not what I was thinking.”
“Liar.”
I grabbed the mug from him, not even dignifying him with a response. Instead, I brought it to my lips and sipped hesitantly, face already scrunched in a grimace as I readied myself for shittily prepared coffee.
But as soon as the perfectly made elixir hit my tongue, the expression cleared. I couldn’t stop the contented sigh that left my lips as I took another sip, larger this time.
When I felt halfway human, I slid my gaze to Lincoln in all his insufferable, shirtless glory. “Should I file a restraining order with Sheriff McKenzie since you’ve clearly been stalking me?”
“If I were stalking you, hellcat, I’d have found you before you showed up at the bar at ten thirty on a Wednesday night.” He slid me a glance. “Already smashed.”
Embarrassment washed over me, heat blooming in my cheeks as snippets of last night filtered in.
But that was fine. Totally, completely fine.
Especially when I was just going to go ahead and ignore that and pretend it had never happened.
“What other explanation is there for you knowing exactly how I take my coffee?” I asked, skating right over his statement.
He raised a brow in my direction. “Because you’re a creature of habit, and you’ve taken your coffee like this since you were fourteen and sneaking it from my house before school.”
Without allowing me to process that little history lesson, he dished up scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast onto two plates.
After placing them on the table, he took the seat across from me and tapped my plate with his fork. “Eat. It’ll soak up the shame.”
“There’s not enough food in the world to soak up last night,” I mumbled.
I stabbed a bite of eggs, chewed slowly, and tried not to let my eyes roll back in my head.
Goddammit. Sonofabitch. Motherfuck.
The eggs were fluffy and light and perfectly seasoned with just the right amount of cheese. Because of course they were.
“Good?” he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice. Sure enough, when I lifted my gaze to his, he was grinning at me. The little bastard.
“They’re fine.”
“Oh, come on. They’re better than fine. With the way you’re biting back a moan, some might even say they’re…mind-blowing.” He paused, letting those words land. And then, “Kind of like chapter fourteen in Bred by the Moonlight, am I right?”
I choked on the bite I’d just taken. Coughing, sputtering, almost dying, thanks to a piece of perfectly crisp bacon and Lincoln Steele’s unfiltered mouth.
He very calmly reached over and thumped me twice on the back, his full lips turned up in an amused smirk. “You good?”
“Fine,” I bit out, eyes narrowed on him because I knew that look. And that look said he was just getting started.
“Quite the interesting reading material you have there. I wasn’t going to read the whole thing, but when I saw the page you had earmarked, I couldn’t help myself. Those are some kinks you’re into, hellcat. The one that surprised me the most was when Silas said he wanted to breed—”
With a glare, I reached over and slapped my hand over his mouth. “You are the actual worst. Do you know that?”
He stared at me, his eyes sparkling before I dropped my hand and clutched my fork like a weapon instead.
“You’ve told me once or twice.” He took a sip of his coffee, his gaze intent on me in a way that made me shift in my seat.
Lincoln was always like this—teasing, annoying, and deeply allergic to taking anything too seriously. But right now, I saw something else just beneath the surface.
Something that looked an awful lot like determination.
“So,” he said, all faux casualness. “About last night’s shame…”
I exhaled a heavy sigh and rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “Thought this breakfast was supposed to soak it all up.”
“Yeah, how’s that working for you?”
I didn’t answer him, just took another bite to buy myself some time.
“You wanna fill me in on what’s going on, or should I start digging to figure it out myself?”
And there it was—that determination that I didn’t see often from him. In middle school, when he’d refused to give up on his bedraggled science fair robot. During senior year, when he’d rebuilt an engine just to win a bet. And now, apparently, with my life.
I didn’t want to tell him what was going on. Didn’t want to tell anyone, actually. And I definitely didn’t want Lincoln calling my twin brother to ask questions he wouldn’t have the answers to anyway.
But the look in his eyes said he wasn’t going to drop this, no matter how much I attempted to avoid it.
Maybe I could placate him with just enough information to get him off my back but not enough to spill just how much trouble I was in…
“I didn’t mean to get that drunk. It was a rough day.”
“Yeah, I got that much.” He braced his forearms on the table and leaned toward me, a hard glint in his eyes I wasn’t used to seeing. “Now, who’s Grant, and where can I find the motherfucker?”
I froze. Blinked. Blinked some more. Shook my head to try to make sense of his words, because what?
“I don’t—”
“Last night, when I asked you what this was all about, you said Grant. And I want to know who the asshole is before I get his DNA on my knuckles.”
“Okay, first of all, settle down, Rocky. Second of all, you think if a guy was bothering me, I wouldn’t be able to hand him his nuts?”
“I know you can. Beau and I made sure of that. But I still want to know who the hell Grant is so I can pay him a visit.”
“Not a who. A what.”
“I’m not following.”
I exhaled a deep sigh and sank back in my chair, knowing he wouldn’t stop until I’d spilled it all. “I’m fucking up everything.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“It’s true. Everything’s breaking—the farm, my back, our bank account. I’m drowning.”
“I know.” Lincoln leaned forward, his gaze intent on me, and I didn’t dare look away. “You about ready to let someone else help?”
I would’ve laughed if I weren’t close to tears. No, I wasn’t. Even with everything that was happening, I wasn’t about to ask for assistance. I could do this on my own.
“Not someone, but I thought I found something that could help. A grant, specifically for small farms.”
His brows lifted. “That sounds perfect. What can I do? Fill out forms? Make copies? Mail some shit?”
I breathed out a humorless laugh and shook my head. “There’s nothing you can do unless you can rewrite my entire life.”
“That sounds a hell of a lot more dismal than what you just said. Spell it out for me.”
“I read the fine print last night, which led to me drinking my weight in tequila. Turns out the grant isn’t available to solo applicants. They want to invest in family farms run by families. Couples, at the very least. And since Dad died and Mom left, I don’t have anyone.”
“Your brother would be pretty pissed to hear that.”
I rolled my eyes. “My brother is halfway around the world playing hero with vaccines and IV drips. Besides, I’m pretty sure they mean a spouse or children. And I’ve got neither.”
Lincoln leaned back in his chair, scratching his bare abs, and shrugged…the picture of ease. “So, we get married.”
This time, I choked on a sip of coffee, my eyes wide and watering as I stared at him.
“Excuse me?” I managed to croak out.
“Married,” he enunciated. “You need a family? I’m a family. One whole legally eligible husband, right here.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“Why not? We get hitched, you qualify for the grant, and I get the insider hookup on your fucking delicious jam. Sounds like a win to me.”
“Sounds like insanity to me.”
“I prefer to call it resourcefulness. You need help. I have a Ring Pop and no commitments.” He leaned forward, his brow quirked. “Unless you’d rather go about it another way…”
“You mean, not at all?”
He grinned, wide and teasing and completely unrepentant. “I mean, getting married isn’t the only way to make you a family. I could also do what your latest book boyfriend excelled at and breed you…”
My mouth dropped open on an incredulous breath. “You did not just say that to me.”
“Oh, I absolutely did. And I’m ready to put my mouth—and my swimmers—where my money is.”
“You’re an idiot and a jackass.”
“I don’t know, hellcat.” He tipped his chair back onto two legs and took a sip of coffee, like he hadn’t just offered to get me pregnant for a grant. “Seems like this idiot jackass just came up with two solutions to your current predicament.”
With a huff, I stood and strode straight toward the front door, grabbing my bag along the way. As I slipped on my boots, I said, “If I stay here another second, I’ll stab you with that fork.”
“Ohhh…forkplay. I didn’t read about that in Bred by the Moonlight, but I’m up for trying anything with you.”
I shot him a scowl—and the finger—before storming out of his apartment and slamming the door behind me.
Hell would have to freeze over before I even thought about marrying Lincoln Steele.