Page 49 of Behind the Bench

Lincoln clearly has the same idea because he grabs the menu at exactly the same time and our fingers brush for the briefest moment. The jolt of electricity I feel at minimal contact is not normal. He snaps his hand back as if he just touched fire, and it’s clear he is just affected as I am by the simple touch.

He nods toward the menu. “You go ahead. I was last in the bar so the first round is on me.”

It’s at this moment I finally notice that Lincoln has taken his jacket off, and I think I might start drooling.

He’s wearing a Henley and it looks to be the same color as the massive eggplant Sadie brought home from the market yesterday. It’s a dark shade, and I can’t help but stare at the way the shirt hugs his phenomenal biceps. Like, how is he even that ripped? And I swear, he’s the only man on the planet who makes purple look sexy. The purple makes the green ofhis eyes even more intense, which causes me to stare like a damn idiot. It’s not even fair. This man is a damn specimen.

Sadie nudges me, breaking my trance and I quickly drop my eyes from Lincoln’s chest. There’s no way he didn’t catch me staring. Oops.

I look down to the drink menu and pray to the gods above that they have margaritas at this joint. Thankfully, they have an entire page of specialty drinks and one of their featured fall drinks is a Smoky Harvest Apple Cider Margarita.

Sign. Me. Up.

“I’ll take their apple cider margarita that’s on special. On the rocks. And could you ask if we could get a pitcher of water?”

I close the menu and reach over the table to hand it to Lincoln. He smirks before taking it from me. “Water already, huh? Too many pregame margaritas?”

Sadie steps in before I can fire back with the smartass comment on my tongue. Luckily, she has one at the ready. “You’re one to talk. Did you or did you not almost piss your pants in the apartment? Linky Boy can’t hold his booze?”

Blanching at the nickname she uses, I’m afraid Grumpy Lincoln will make an appearance. Instead, he laughs and gives credit where credit is due. “Touché, Sadie. You’re right. I almost pulled a Billy Madison and wet myself.” He laughs again before taking Sadie and Hunter’s orders and making his way to the bar.

I sure do love watching that man walk away.

Hunter and Sadie both start cracking up and I look over at them. “What the hell is your problem, you guys?”

“Us? It’s like your eyes are permanently attached to that man’s ass,” Sadie says in between cackles.

“Shut up! They are not. Besides, what’s so wrong with appreciating a work of art? Because, good lord, that ass could hang in the Louvre,” I say while fanning myself.

Hunter leans over to Sadie trying to keep his commentquiet but I still manage to hear him say, “This is going to be easier than we thought.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

I’m about to question the two troublemakers but Lincoln makes his way back to the table with our drinks before I can interrogate them. “What did I miss?” he asks while handing Sadie and me our margaritas. “I heard your cackles from across the room.”

I ignore his question and take a long sip of my margarita, which isn’t suspicious at all. Nope, not even a little bit. But damn, this margarita isgood.

Hunter saves me by chiming in. “Oh nothing, we were just talking about the giant bubble hockey debacle that happened during intermission last game. That dude wentflying!” He and Sadie start fake laughing and it’s a very pathetic attempt at a cover story.

Lincoln eyes us all suspiciously but, for whatever reason, doesn’t call us out on Hunter’s bullshit.

I’m mid-sip on my delicious margarita when Sadie’s screech scares the ever-loving bejesus out of me, causing me to choke and spit my drink back into my glass. I put my hand on my chest and try to calm my pounding heart. “What the hell, Sadie?”

I realize her eyes are fixed on the opposite end of the bar. I turn my head to see what caused her to screech like a howler monkey and that’s when I see it.

Oh, hell no.

There’s a small stage being set up with microphones and a DJ setting up shop. This is my worst nightmare.

It’s freaking karaoke night.

Ellie turns to Sadie, shaking her head vigorously. “Nope. Not happening, Sadie. Not in a million years.”

I have no idea what the hell is even going on right now.

First, Sadie screeches like a damn dying pig, and now Ellie is freaking out while Sadie begs and pleads with her for something.

“What the hell are you two going on about?” I ask while taking a pull of my beer. I could really use a three finger pour of whiskey right now, because the way Ellie has been looking at me tonight has me extremely close to pulling her into the bathroom and fucking her brains out.

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