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228 pages, ebook
First published December 6, 2016
If I did it, Wallflower, if I felt that way again, it would be about someone like you.”
And tell me, Daisy Sinclair,” he said, “why is it that you've been dubbed off-limits?”
She batten her eyelashes, looking every bit the Southern belle she sounded like. “Isn't it obvious? Divorced, damaged, and ever so fragile. You? Why is it that you're to be avoided?”
He leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice.“Consummate playboy, intriguingly unattainable, with just a dash of dangerous secrets.”
Lincoln couldn't explain how he knew it, but he and Daisy Sinclair got each other. Their respective walls had been acknowledged, a silent agreement passed that neither would try to scale the other's.
We're all a little cracked, honey.”
“You ever wonder?”
“Wonder what?”
“What will fill your cracks? How to get better.”
“All the damn time.”
...I have nothing to give back, Daisy. Oh, I'd give you pleasure. We'd give each other that. But I'd take absolutely everything- I'd fucking consume you. You'd want something in return, and I'd have nothing. I'm hollow inside, and you deserve so much more.”
“I don’t. They come to me. I’m like the stamen.”
Emma stared at him with her wide, slightly accusatory brown eyes. “The what?”
“The stamen. The pollen-producing part of a flower, Sinclair. Don’t you watch the Discovery Channel? Animal Planet? I just saw a very compelling documentary on bees. See, when the bees land on a flower, their little feet pick up pollen from the stamen…”
“Mathis. Are you talking to my fiancé about semen?” Alex Cassidy asked, coming up beside Emma and setting a possessive hand on her waist.
“I have nothing to give back, Daisy. Oh, I’d give you pleasure. We’d give each other that. But I’d take absolutely everything – I’d fucking consume you. You’d want something in return, and I’d have nothing. I’m hollow inside, and you deserve so much more.”
“You must be Lincoln Mathis, The Manwhore of Whom I Should Beware?”
“Which would make you Daisy Sinclair, Delicate Flower to Whom I’m Not to Speak.”
“I happen to like our story… Especially now that it’s taken a turn for the naked.”
In response, Cole ambled over to the counter, picked up the eggroll, took an enormous bite, and knelt to offer the rest to Kiwi, who wagged happily. “There you go, baby. Who’s your favorite uncle now?” “It should be me,” Mitchell grumbled as he helped himself to a beer from Lincoln’s fridge. “I’m the one that took her to do her business. Lincoln, you know they make crap bags in colors other than pink and purple.”
Daisy put a hand over her heart. “You wound me. Say Anything. I’m due for a rewatch. You could come.”
Emma made a gagging motion. “Pass.”
“Oh come on. I don’t know how twenty-two-year-old John Cusack didn’t steal your heart in that scene.”
“Um, no. Nothing against the actor, but any guy holding a boom box outside my bedroom at dawn is going to get a swift kick to the balls. And I don’t know how you can possibly find it romantic. You’re the least morning person I know.”
“This is where you’re supposed to tell me I’m not broken,” she said, nudging his arm with hers.
He took a sip of beer. “Well, shit. I’m not sure I’m the person to know what’s broken and what’s not. I’ll tell you this though . . . nothing wrong with being confused.”
Then he saw something else. Something familiar, because he’d done it a thousand times himself. She squared her shoulders, and he watched as a mask slid into place. He knew even before she approached that Daisy was exactly like him— good at being around people only because she chose to be. Knew that perhaps once it had been second nature, and now it was nothing but a deliberate attempt to make sure everyone thought she was okay.
“I know you well enough to know that brunette you were dancing with was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and yet you didn’t seem remotely interested.”
Lincoln was about to open the door to the bar, but stilled at her words, turning to face her. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Meaning?”
She took a tiny step closer, her gaze more level and challenging than it was flirtatious.
“Meaning, I think your womanizing reputation is all smoke and mirrors, and I think you like it that way.”
“You know nothing about it,” he muttered, turning away.
She touched his arm. “I know that everyone’s in awe of your ability to keep things friendly with the women you sleep with, even after you supposedly discard them.”
“Supposedly? You think I actually keep stringing them all along, sleeping with them all, whenever I want?”
“Don’t be silly,” she said with a cluck of her tongue as she reached for the door. “I don’t think you sleep with them at all.”
“He’s not worth it,” she said quietly.
“No, but you are,” he said, meeting her eyes.
"For a moment they both froze, and there was something strangely electric about the moment, as though they were both poised on the precipice of something both epic and wonderful.
And then it passed, and they were just Daisy and Lincoln."
“So where are we headed?” she asked as they began walking down the sidewalk. “Empire State Building? Statue of Liberty? Brooklyn Bridge?”
“Not tonight, love, I don’t have my fanny pack or selfie stick.”
“Then where to?”
“Dive bar.”
“Um, you’re in a tux and this dress is silk.”
“So we’ll skip the beer pong. Live a little.”
“She is hot,” Lincoln said casually, as he set a stack of plates on the counter. “But I’m not interested.”
“Since when?” Jake said around a bite of eggroll, apparently having reversed his decision on gnawing on them like a frat boy.
“Since now,” Lincoln snapped a little irritably. “Seriously, are we here to eat Chinese and play poker, or should I turn on Adele and pour us some rosé?”
“You say that like it’s not a regular thing for you,” Jake said.