Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
I just wonder why his dating life seems so hollow if he has a harem of supposed supermodels lined up. Most men with his looks and his money would barely poke their noses in the office. They’d be too busy banging and breaking hearts in one bad fling after the next.
Dakota: Well, best not to keep the people waiting. Congratulations on your fake wedding, boss.
I’m not game. That’s for sure.
Lincoln: It’s not my fake wedding. It’s Anna’s and it’s still not happening. Even if I’ll admit I can’t stop thinking about the interesting opportunities it might bring...
Dakota: So why are you texting me about it? Does Anna scare you that much?
Lincoln: No. He sends a red-faced emoji with smoke coming out of its ears.
I laugh.
Ten minutes later, Barista Boy calls my name and gently places a box on the counter. I grab it and head back to the car.
“Are we going to the park now?” Louis asks once I’m back in my seat.
“Are we?” Would I really be taking a leg and cinnamon rolls to the park? “Lincoln texted me the address. Hang on, I’ll get it for you.”
I pull out my phone, find the address, and read it off to him.
He pulls back on the road, goes up a couple of blocks, and takes a left turn. Sure enough, before I can blink, we’re back at the encampment in the park, not far from Sweeter Grind.
Nothing about this makes sense.
“Are you sure we’re at the right place?” I ask again, uncertain.
“Once again, this is the address, Miss Poe,” he says.
“Maybe I got it wrong?” I pick up my phone to call Lincoln so I can confirm the address.
But before I do, I see Louis’ dark eyes in the rearview mirror looking back at me.
“I doubt it. He comes here a lot after picking up his rolls. There he is now!” He gestures at the passenger window.
My eyes follow in the direction he’s pointing.
You can’t miss him.
Like a gleaming diamond in the velvet night, the ivory Adonis stands in front of a ragged tent, crisp and cool in a three-piece suit. There’s my modern Gothic.
It’s oddly beautiful, even if it’s also just weird.
But not that weird, is it? I think back to the time I saw him when I was in the park with Eliza weeks ago. This was definitely the spot where I saw him talking to that homeless dude and hinting at a million secrets.
What will Lincoln Burns show me tonight?
I wonder.
With excitement burning through me, I grab the cargo and climb out of the car, stepping into the moonlight that rolls out like a bone-white carpet, leading to the answers I crave.
12
Engaged In Guessing (Lincoln)
I can’t believe I let her in on this.
Hopefully, Wyatt doesn’t rip my head off in the process.
The town car pulls up as I walk toward her, an added quickness in my step.
I don’t want her alone in the dark here, even with Louis looking after her.
Most of the people aren’t dangerous. They’ve been dealt a shit hand by life, but chaos always draws bad actors. Drugs and alcohol also run rampant here, creating a volatile environment where anything can happen in the blink of an eye.
As soon as the car stops, she steps out, balancing the medical supply box and the Sweeter Grind rolls. I move in, holding my arms out as I catch up.
“Give me the heavier box,” I say.
“You’ll have to get it. If I try to toss it over, I’m going to drop everything.”
Placing my hand under the large box on the bottom of her stack, I slide it out.
“Stay close,” I warn her, casting a wary glance through the dimly lit tents and squaring my shoulders.
“What if I don’t want to?” she whispers.
“Do it anyway. This isn’t always the safest place.”
From the corner of my eye, she grins like the wicked little angel she is.
“Mr. Burns, are you worried about me?”
Damn her, I am.
I also hate to admit I’m having second thoughts. I shouldn’t have brought her. Part of me wants to stuff her back in the car with Louis and tell him to take her straight home.
What was I thinking? If it wasn’t for that meeting across town—but even I need a little honest help sometimes.
“I’m worried about getting smacked in the face with a lawsuit,” I lie, glowering at her.
She laughs like the spoiled brat she is.
“Okay. Whatever you say, bossman. I’ll try not to make you five million bucks poorer if I get stabbed.”
No fucking comment.
I lead her to Wyatt’s tent. It’s only a short distance, thankfully, and I move with her like I’m back in the service. I only escorted VIPs a few times at an airfield, but I know enough to make an effective bodyguard.
Even when I’m the dolt who put her in a place where she needs protecting.