Chapter 45
JULES
“You weren’t kidding about not being found…” I gaze through the window of our room here at the Kingston Family Inn in Crescent Harbor.
Everything about this rustic, off-the-grid bed and breakfast that Lincoln selected for us fascinates me.
The hand-painted direction signs posted in the gravel driveway.
The claw-foot tub in the ensuite bathroom.
The cows mooing outside our stained glass window.
The miles and miles of farm fields spanning in almost every direction.
I know this charming little place is a far cry from the fancy hotels where Lincoln normally stays when he travels for work.
Easton and Alba recommended this place after spending their honeymoon here.
So far, I give it two thumbs up. Especially since there’s not a fully-equipped co-working space or a five-star convention center in sight.
The cell service out here in the middle of nowhere is practically non-existent. We had to give Lincoln’s mom the inn’s landline number just in case Cameron needs to reach us.
“Do you like it?” he asks, handing me a tall, bubbly glass of the breakfast mimosa we ordered from room service.
I take a sip. “I’m impressed…and maybe a little terrified.”
He lifts a brow in question.
“If my still-new husband was looking for an easy insurance payout, this would be an excellent place to hide my body,” I accuse.
He rolls his eyes, pinching my butt.
I yelp. “Jeez. Kidding.” I set my drink on a nearby table and run my palms down his chest. “I love it. It’s very romantic. Thank you.”
In fact, this is hands-down the most romantic thing any man has ever done for me. My brain is struggling to process it.
Even my guardian angel is highly confused, because this whole relationship was supposed to be fake, an exposition for the world to see.
Yet, here I am with Lincoln, alone in the middle of nowhere, with no crowd to convince, no business partners to impress.
Just champagne and candlelight and long, slow kisses.
And I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what’s going through Lincoln’s mind.
I do know what I want. I want this marriage to be real. I want Lincoln to fall for me, the way I’ve fallen for him. But that was never a part of this deal.
Just as I’m sinking deeper into our kiss, Lincoln suddenly smacks my ass and pulls out of my arms. “Okay. Let’s go. Our first adventure awaits us.”
“Squee! I’m so excited,” I chirp as he grabs my hand and leads me to the door.
We got into town after dark last night, so we went straight to bed—ahem!—and got up early this morning. After spreading a dozen brochures and flyers out across the flowery quilt, Lincoln asked me to choose an outing to start our day.
That’s how we ended up here at an adorable farmer’s market. The town of Crescent Harbor is no bigger than Fairy Bush, and it’s equally as charming. We walk hand in hand, browsing the local vendors who go on and on about how good their coffee beans are.
“Oh, these look so good,” I moan over some artisanal cheese and bread baskets. There are some amazing-looking pastry baskets, too. They’re unlike anything I’ve seen back home.
“We’ll take two,” Lincoln steps up to the vendor and holds out his corporate credit card.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. Cash only,” the eighty-year-old baker says, pointing to the sign Lincoln missed.
“Ah…um…” my husband fumbles through his wallet and pockets, only finding a few stray dollars. “I don’t…”
Struggling to fight back my laughter , I swoop in and hand the old man a couple twenty dollar bills. As we walk away, Lincoln turns red, promising to pay me back, but I just shake my head.
“I see you weren’t prepared to really rough it out here in the backwoods,” I tease.
He grumbles out a poor excuse. “I just…I never carry cash on me.”
“You’ve been a city boy for too long. It’s time we bring that country boy back out,” I joke, swatting him on his ass as he carries both baskets.“I do like those jeans on you, though. That’s a good look, Mr. Button-Up.” My eyes travel up and down the polo and denim he’s wearing today.
He gives a dramatic little huff, but his smile never leaves his face.
On the way back to the inn, we happen to stroll past an outlet of Renewed Gowns, the shop I bought my wedding dress from. To me, that feels like a good omen.
We make one more stop to share a scoop of homemade ice cream at a tiny parlor on The Promenade Street.
Lincoln laughs at me when I again drip some onto my clothes. “I can't take you anywhere,” he teases, as he dips his napkin into a cup of water and gently tries to scrub out the stain for me.
I shiver when his knuckles graze the curve of my breast. My nipples go erect under my thin T-shirt and I grin, arching my back. “Truly. You can’t take me anywhere,” I tease. “You should probably get me back to our room right now and have your way with me.”
His eyes hook on my chest and he groans in his throat. “There you go, threatening me with a good time, my wife.”
We hurry back to the inn, get in a hot quickie in the shower and change into better shoes. Then we hike down to the creek that’s at the edge of the property. We have to use this paper map that Mr. Kingston gave us to find our way off the trail and through the trees.
Crunching through the leaves and brush, we only make a few wrong turns—all Lincoln’s ideas—before we hear the trickling water up ahead.
We end the afternoon at the creek. It’s far too cold to get in, but we explore the bank, we skip stones, and we kiss. We kiss a lot.
We spread out a thread-bare blanket over the rigid ground, and then we share a simple picnic, snacking on the fresh cheese and bread from the market.
Lincoln reclines on the blanket, stretching out with an easy smile on his face. I pop a bite of bread in my mouth before feeding him bite by bite. While his eyes are on the passing clouds above, mine are on him.
He’s different out here.
I didn’t realize how stressed he was over that business deal until he closed it. Without his phone buzzing every ten seconds, Lincoln is actually able to relax. He seems happier. Present. More in the moment with me.
“We should come back here when it’s warmer,” Lincoln says suddenly.
“Yeah…?” I blink in surprise.
He nods casually. “So we can skinny dip and swim in the creek together.”
I ignore the way my stomach flutters when he mentions plans for us. Is he thinking about a future together, or did that just slip out?
Lately it’s becoming harder and harder to remember what we’re doing here. Harder and harder to figure out where these blurry lines are drawn.
At some point in the past week or so, I decided to just go with it. To just enjoy each and every moment I’m in. Life’s too short to make it all work and no play.
Even if that means I might be setting myself up for a world of hurt later.
Dinner is entertaining, to say the least. We eat in the inn’s dining room with the other guests. We’re by far the youngest here, surrounded by sweet, elderly patrons.
The best part is that Lincoln and I can just be ourselves. No one bombards us with a hundred questions. We just get to relax, get to know each other some more, all while eavesdropping on the silly conversations happening around us, and struggling not to laugh.
Somehow, by the end of the meal, Lincoln has stolen the heart of the old lady at the table next to ours. And I’m half worried that Mrs. Byron from Williamsburg, Virginia, is going to invite him up to her and her husband’s room for something inappropriate later.
Looking freaked out, Lincoln leans across the table and whispers. “Let’s skip out on dessert.”
“I like the sound of that,” I reply, ready for a moment to ourselves.
“Wait. Where are you going?” Mrs. Byron asks, waving us down as Lincoln helps me into my jacket.
“Taking my wife on an evening stroll,” he says, offering our dinner mates a polite salute. “See you all at breakfast?”
Mrs. Byron keeps waving her arms. “Wait. I need you to come up to my room and, um, help me get, um, my favorite keepsake down from the top shelf.”
“What keepsake?” her jealous husband asks grumpily. “I don’t know of any keepsake!”
Lincoln’s eyes discreetly roll to the ceiling, but he keeps his composed tone. “No worries, Mrs. Byron. I’ll have the front desk send someone to help you out. Good night now.”
I bury my face against his shoulder to hide my laughter as we saunter out of the inn.
“Jeez. I’m glad we got out of there.” I grin up at him. “I did not come all the way to Crescent Harbor to have my husband stolen away by some feisty old lady.”
Lincoln zips my leather jacket up to my chin. He drops a kiss on my nose and scoffs. “Never. No one’s stealing me away. I’m all yours.”
And I know that he’s only joking, but—gosh—I wish so much that this were true. That I were his. For real. For the long haul.
But I can’t bring myself to admit it, so I turn, pulling him along, our feet crunching along the gravel path.
The stars are so bright out here in the middle of nowhere. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been able to see the constellations so clearly. As Lincoln wraps his warm hand around mine, I can’t help but think of how perfect this weekend has been.
When my teeth start chattering, Lincoln guides me toward a big, dark barn at the end of a long driveway. We sneak inside, grateful for a shield from the cold breeze.
Smack dab in the middle is a ginormous parked tractor. Shooting a playful smile over my shoulder at Lincoln, I dart over to the vehicle. I use the nearby hay bale to hoist myself up, and then I climb up onto the tractor bench behind the steering wheel.
“Wanna plow the fields with me, Mr. Button-Up?” I ask, waggling my brows.
“How did you know I had a thing for farmer chicks?” He quickly scrambles up onto the seat next to me, with far more grace and athleticism than I ever could.
“I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said I liked your ass in blue jeans.”
He leans in, his lips hovering close to mine. “I thought you liked my ass in business suits,” he teases before stealing a kiss.
When he tries to ease backward, I hold him close, letting my fingers go tight in his hair. “I like you as a sexy corporate business man.”
Kiss.
“And I like you as a hot cowboy.”
Kiss.
“And I like you as a naked porn star.”
Kiss.
I’m kind of digging all his sides. I want to explore every single one of them.
Lincoln grins. “All I’m hearing is you like me. I didn’t hear anything else.”
I laugh and we fall into another kiss.
I do like you, Lincoln Raines. Far more than I’m supposed to.
Moonlight streams through the barn doors, casting shadows around us. Lincoln wraps his big hand around the both of mine, and I relish his warmth. Even though we’re out of the wind, it’s still quite chilly in here.
“It’s nice here,” I whisper, changing the subject, as we sit side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the quiet darkness.
“You’re nice,” he murmurs back.
A laugh bursts from my chest. “You’re nuts. I am the least nice person you know.”
Lincoln shrugs. “You’re sassy and you don’t take shit from anyone. But underneath that prickly layer of defenses, you are inherently good.”
I grumble a protest.
“You are, Jules. You’re not fooling me anymore. I know how big your heart is.”
My chest squeezes. I feel so exposed when Lincoln looks at me like that. I feel vulnerable in a way I’m not used to.
“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” I half-joke.
Lincoln winks at me. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Good. Then I won’t tell anyone that the uptight, grumpy stick-in-the-mud thing is just your sexy way of protecting your son and all the people you love.
I always thought the responsible thing was an act.
But I was wrong. You’ve spent your whole life looking after your brothers and your mom and your family.
It’s who you are. You’re a really good dad, Lincoln. A really good person.”
“And you’re a pretty good step-mom,” he says.
My tummy does a flip at the title. “Cameron is the coolest step-son ever.” I can’t help but wish I could be a real, lasting presence in his life.
These feelings—these surprisingly strong and warm feelings in my chest—are so completely unexpected. I don’t know how I’ll ever recover from them.
Lincoln clears his throat and gazes out at the moonlight. Then he tackles the elephant in the room. “I know the time limit is almost up on our arrangement, Jules. But I need to say this…I didn’t think I’d have as much fun as I did being married to you."
“I’ve had fun, too…” My voice cracks as those emotions rear their heads again. “More than fun, actually.”
He shakes his head slowly. “You don’t understand.
I spent years being a calculated asshole.
Putting up walls. Avoiding a social life because my priorities were Cameron and work and repeat.
But somehow, in just a few months, you’ve taught me new ways of being.
You showed me that life isn’t always as cold as I used to think.
You taught me that it’s okay to laugh at myself…
even when I nearly drown skipping rocks. ”
I chuckle softly.
I love you…My lips move but no sound comes out. My throat closes over the words I want to say.
Instead, I swallow over the lump and rest my head on Lincoln’s shoulder until I trust my voice to work again.
I want to tell Lincoln that he makes me feel like I can take a deep breath without my world imploding. That my mess of a life feels meaningful when he’s around. That because he has my back, I don’t feel like I’m on my own in this cold, scary world. That I feel stronger when he’s in my corner.
“You’ve made me feel like a princess,” I whisper.
Lincoln squeezes my hand. “You are. You’re the best kind of princess,” he whispers into my hair. “Leather and biker boots and all.”
This is as close as I’ll ever get to a fairytale. And I’m fine with that.
Only, I’m not sure what comes next, when the clock strikes midnight. Because I’ve fallen completely in love with my grumpy, button-up prince.