Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
WILLA
Beau:
Apparently newlywed life is busy as shit, but maybe text your twin once in a while? And answer your goddamn phone.
After a night for the record books, I’d spent the past several days avoiding everything. The twinge in my back, the texts from my brother…my feelings.
But fuck, this was not supposed to happen.
I wasn’t supposed to get all gooey for Lincoln Steele. Wasn’t supposed to crave him so much it scared the hell out of me.
So, yeah. I’d avoided him. And Chloe. And Sutton.
Because I knew their little girls’ date ambush was imminent, and I had no idea how I was going to handle that. What was I going to say?
Lincoln and I are married, but we’re not really married. Except he fucked me like we are, made me feel things I didn’t think were possible, and now I think I might be, maybe, slightly, the tiniest bit falling in love with my husband…
I was sure that would go over amazingly well.
Unfortunately, since Laurel had been helping at the farm, Sutton had the inside track on my schedule. Which was how she caught me before I could escape to the library where I’d been hiding just to get some damn breathing room from my too-hot-for-my-sanity husband.
“Girls’ night. No arguments,” she said from the front porch. “You’ve been dodging us. It’s annoying.”
“I’ve been busy,” I lied.
She raised a single brow, a silent invitation to try her. “You haven’t replied to the group chat in three days, and Chloe made me help her with some spell to get you to stop avoiding us. You’re coming.”
Since I was not, in fact, willing to try the woman who’d been a single mom to a sarcastic porcupine of a teenager for the past seventeen years, I allowed Sutton to usher me into her car and drive us into town.
And straight to One Night Stan’s.
Because of course that was where we’d go. It was the best—and only—bar in town. And it wasn’t like I could admit I’d been avoiding my own husband—my stupidly hot, infuriatingly attentive, somehow-also-soft-where-it-mattered fake husband.
The second Sutton and I walked in, Chloe looked up from behind the bar and beamed at us.
“Finally,” she said. “I was about to file a missing person’s report.”
I kept my gaze locked on her because I didn’t dare look around. Of course the girls would pick tonight to go out—one of only two nights this week Lincoln was working late. And there was no doubt he was here. I could feel that constant buzz beneath my skin that hummed whenever he was near.
“I think you’re being a little dramatic,” I said. “It’s been three days.”
“Have you met me? Xander bought me a coffee cup that says I am the drama.”
“Most accurate mug I’ve ever seen,” Sutton said, grabbing two of the margarita glasses Chloe passed over.
“Time for drinking and secret-spilling, ladies.” Chloe grabbed the remaining glass and stepped out from behind the bar, leading the way to a booth in the back.
I started to follow them, but before I could take a single step, a finger hooked into my belt loop and yanked me back against a hard chest. My breath caught in my throat as I turned, already expecting who I’d find. Already bracing myself for it.
And sure enough, Lincoln stood there, close enough that the scent of him hit me right along with the warmth of his body seeping into my back. And then there was the grin he sent my way, all playful and amused.
“Where do you think you’re going, wife?” He tilted his head, studying me like he could see straight through me. “You’ve been hiding from me, so I’m sure as hell gonna get my fill now.”
I opened my mouth to respond—with deflection or snark, I wasn’t sure. But before I could say a word, Lincoln was there, his hand cupping the back of my neck and his lips pressed to mine.
The kiss wasn’t indecent. Technically. Just the barest brush of his tongue against mine, his soft hum of satisfaction vibrating against my lips. But the shock wave it sent through me was enough to leave me reeling.
He pulled back and grinned down at me, obnoxiously pleased with himself as he darted his gaze over my face. “Time to have fun with your girls. But I’ll be seeing you at home tonight, wife.”
Then he swatted my ass before stepping behind the bar like he hadn’t just activated every sleeper cell in my body.
I stared at him for a second too long, then shook my head to clear it before glaring at him over my shoulder. Smug jackass knew exactly what he was doing. Sure enough, he caught my scowl, but instead of being chastened, he just winked at me before getting back to work.
I hated his stupid face. And I really, really hated how much I didn’t actually hate him.
I slid into the booth across from Sutton and Chloe and downed half my margarita in one go. If I had any hope of making it through the night, I needed to calm my nerves. Along with this ever-present hum in my body, reminding me my husband was far too close for my sanity.
The girls’ night dishing session started off easy.
Chloe talked about Mabel’s latest promotion at Wicked Little Things—buy a vibe, get a cookie—and how Emma was in a kitten-only language phase.
Sutton gave us the inside scoop on how much Laurel was enjoying working with me at the farm and the blooming crush she had on a girl at school.
This was fine. I could handle this kind of gossip since it wasn’t centered anywhere near me. When they started talking about the weird, invisible tension between Penelope and Declan, I started to relax.
Rookie mistake.
Sutton reached for a chip, dipped it in some guac, and then, as casual as ever, said, “Okay, we’re not grilling you…”
Chloe cut in, her smile bright. “She’s lying. We’re definitely grilling you.”
My stomach flipped, my heart sinking, knowing that grilling me meant digging deep into my very much fake relationship with Lincoln. How the hell was I going to pass this test?
“What’s there to grill me about?” I asked, attempting to keep my voice level.
Sutton lifted a single brow and brought her margarita to her lips. “Oh, I don’t know… Maybe the fact that half the time I’ve seen you and Lincoln together, you’ve looked like you were about to claw each other’s eyes out? And now you’re married?”
Chloe nodded. “I’m with Sutton—I was just as skeptical.”
Oh god. This was it. They were going to call me out on Lincoln’s and my lie.
Then everyone would know about our sham marriage, and Lincoln and I would be done.
No more cohabitating. No more sharing one bed.
No more late-night reading companion or daily verbal sparring partner or grocery store co-shopper.
No more surprise deliveries of my favorite coffee or Danish, no more tickles when I had a back spasm, and no more practice make-out sessions.
And, of course, the grant would no longer be an option. The grant was the biggest deal here. Obviously.
A flush had worked its way up my chest, pooling in my cheeks, as I tried to get my story straight. Trying to figure out what the hell I was going to tell them.
Then a grin cracked Sutton’s stony expression, and she winked. “Turns out, the only thing you wanted to claw was the clothes off his body. Honestly, been there.”
Chloe nodded solemnly. “Who hasn’t?”
Jesusfuck.
As covertly as possible, I exhaled an unsteady breath, too busy trying to regulate my galloping heart to respond with anything coherent. So instead, I took another deep breath and brought my drink to my mouth with a shaky hand just to buy myself some time.
Sutton leaned in. “Seriously, we don’t even need to grill you. The way you look at each other? It’s obvious.”
“What is?” I asked.
“Like you don’t know, Mrs. Steele.” Chloe’s eyes twinkled as she looked at me before glancing to her right, straight toward the bar.
“You should see Lincoln right now. You’ve been pretending not to look at him, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you walked in.
It’s so fucking adorable, it makes me wanna puke. ”
I huffed out a relieved laugh that probably sounded half hysterical. “You have no idea what happens behind closed doors.”
“Oh, babe.” Sutton smirked at me and patted my hand. “We don’t need to.”
“She’s not wrong.” Chloe shot me a sly grin. “What we see in plain sight is enough to slap an NC-17 rating on the two of you.”
“You act like a couple who’s been circling each other for years, just waiting for your chance.” Sutton took another sip of her margarita, eyes dancing. “And he watches you like he wants to devour you.”
“And don’t even try to act like you don’t like it.” Chloe swirled a finger in my direction. “You’re glowing like someone getting the good D on the regular—dick and devotion.”
Sutton snorted, and the two of them shared a laugh while I smiled and didn’t say a word. What could I say? They weren’t wrong.
And that was the problem.
The three of us talked too much and laughed too loud, and I downed my drinks like they could burn the unwelcome feelings for Lincoln straight out of my chest. Like tequila could cauterize longing.
Unfortunately, they didn’t.
They only made me feel warmer. Looser. A little more like myself and a lot more like the woman I was afraid of becoming. The one who counted on someone else. Who let herself believe in things like quiet moments in the dark and a man sending his mom my favorite Danish and coffee order just because.
And that, more than anything, terrified me.
Because who would I be when this was all over and I was on my own…again?
When our glasses were empty and we were about to flag down Lisa for refills, Lincoln stepped up to our table with a smirk and a tray of three lowball glasses. “Thought you ladies could use another round.”
“Ohhh…what are these?” Chloe rubbed her hands together and bounced in her seat.
“Black Cat,” he said, setting the other two on the table and sliding mine in front of me. His gaze dipped to my lips, and my body lit up like a firework. “Brand new recipe. Bourbon, bitters, my wife’s blackberry syrup I stole from the pantry. And a lemon twist.”
He braced one hand on the table and leaned in until I could feel his breath across my lips. “Tastes like you,” he murmured. “All bite at first, but it finishes sweet.”
There was no doubt in my mind he was referencing our night together. When I’d attacked him in the kitchen then came all over his cock—twice—like I’d been born to do it.
He pressed a quick kiss on my lips before standing to his full height. “You ladies let me know if you need another one.”
And then he walked away, and I stared after him, my cheeks flaming and my body flushed all over.
“Oh my god,” Chloe hissed. “Did he name a drink after you?”
“That’s what it sounded like to me,” Sutton said, her tone laced with I told you so.
Chloe smirked, her expression positively gleeful. “Black Cat, huh? All sass, no snuggles—at least until he makes you purrrrr?”
“I hate you both,” I grumbled.
“You don’t,” Sutton said. “You love us.”
“No one can hate anything when they’re getting the D like I just know he’s delivering.” Chloe took a sip of her drink and shook her head. “The Steele men have a certain way about them…”
Sutton nodded. “That they do. And I’m not sure NC-17 is a high enough rating for that sex-with-your-clothes-on we just witnessed between you two.”
“It was not—”
“Tell me about it,” Chloe interrupted, her head bent toward her phone, her thumbs flying over the screen. “I’m telling Xander to drop Emma at his mom’s and get his ass over here. Might need to sneak off to the bathroom for a little grown-up time.”
“I already texted Atlas.” Sutton slipped her phone into her purse. “I give it three minutes before he comes storming through the door.”
“Then it’s time for a toast before they descend!” Chloe raised her glass. “To our favorite black cat and the golden retriever who finally chased her down.”
“Welcome to the family, Willa.” Sutton clinked her glass with mine. “The Steele men can be a real pain in the ass…”
Chloe leaned in, her voice dropping to a not-quite whisper. “But those dicks, am I right?”
I choked on a laugh and shook my head, cheeks burning hotter than the bourbon. But they weren’t wrong.
“You two are the worst,” I muttered, but the words came out softer than I meant them to.
That was just the booze talking, not anything else. Not the warmth or the laughter or the ridiculous toast or feeling like I actually belonged to something…someone.
Like I was finally part of a we.
I blinked hard, trying to shove the feeling away. Push it back down where it belonged—out of sight and out of mind. But it stayed right there, lodged in my heart like a splinter I couldn’t dig out. Small but sharp and impossible to ignore.
When I glanced over at the bar, Lincoln was laughing at something Declan said, his grin wide and carefree.
He looked so damn good, all confidence and charisma.
He turned in my direction then, like I was a magnet drawing his gaze.
And when he caught me looking before I could pretend I wasn’t, he smiled just for me.
Slow and lazy and as smug as sin. Like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
Then he picked up a lowball glass filled with amber liquid, a lemon peel on the rim—a Black Cat. He raised it in my direction with a smirk on his lips that said he was toasting a secret only the two of us knew.
The trouble was, I didn’t know which secret he was referring to because we shared so many.
And no matter how many times I told myself this thing between us was fake, that look on his face—the one that said mine without saying a damn word—was starting to feel all too real.