Page 97 of Good Girl's Guide to Love
“Talk to me,” I say, adjusting myself so that I’m now straddling him, because I want to look him in the eye for this conversation. I usually don’t push him. I know he’s pretty closed off, and I want to respect those boundaries. But if he’s here to really check on me, then I need to know what’s going through his mind. Because I won’t be okay either until I know he is.
“I just want to know who the hell is doing this,” he says. “While I have ninety-nine percent confidence that whoever isleaking these stories is out to get me, I have to ask: Is there anyone who would want to hurt you? Another ex I don’t know about that is worse than Dipshit?”
“None that I can think of,” I say. “There was only one other person I seriously dated, and that was back in college. We haven’t spoken in years. Last I heard he lives in Cleveland with his husband and their two kids.”
It takes Linc a second to process what I just said. But what he says after shocks me a little more. “You’re meaning to tell me, that you’ve only had two serious relationships in your life? How?”
My eyes leave his, but he quickly brings them back up with a lift of my chin. “I didn’t mean that against you. In no way is that a fault of yours. I just want to know how many men over the years saw you, could be with you, and chose not to? That’s fucking insanity to me.”
“Not as many as you think,” I say. “I was focused on my studies. And I’ve always wanted forever. I never saw the appeal of dating just to date. If I was going to be with someone, I had to know it was for the long haul. For both, at the time, they were forever. Just so happens one was gay and the other was a putz.”
My choice of words makes Linc laugh. “In my opinion, they’re all putzes.”
We take in the moment of levity, before it’s my turn to ask him the hard question.
“Do you think someone is leaking these stories? That someone is out to get you?”
Katie’s the first name that comes to my mind, but I also know that sounds ridiculous, so I don’t offer it as a suggestion. I’m still convinced something isn’t right about her, but it’s also her job to keep his name out of the press. No way would she sabotage her career to ruin him.
“Believe me, I’ve been trying to figure out all of this. Who, why. The timing. Everything,” he says. “For weeks, there’s nothing. Hell, months, aside from a few random articles because of a few random pictures. That column at the beginning of the week, why was it written now? Most of that shit was written last year when I started making my name known. So why bring it back up? Why feel the need to drag you, and therefore, try to drag me too? Nothing about this makes sense.”
“I wish I knew,” I say, even though I know he was talking in rhetoricals.
“I mean, Brad Rockwell fucking hates me,” Linc continues. “He’s getting cleared after the bye week, and I know he’s going to make my life a living hell. That’s if he doesn’t get traded. But assuming he doesn’t, I wouldn’t put it past him to try to fuck my world up. Try to distract me so I’m off my game and coach gives him his starting spot back.”
“Have you talked to Coach McAvoy about this?”
He shakes his head. “I might hate Rockwell, but until I have proof, I can’t go around throwing out an accusation like that. Once something like that hits the locker room, it would be chaos.”
“Well, maybe I can?”
Linc leans me back, a very confused look on his face. “Not that I want you to, because I’m going to say this now, I don’t, but how do you think you’re going to get a hold of my coach and tell him that the other tight end is being mean to me?”
I giggle, because when he puts it like that…
“Well, I have a few ways,” I begin. “His sister, Whitley, lives in my hometown. I go there once a week to see my family, so I could conveniently run into her and maybe drop it in her ear to maybe drop it in her brother’s?”
“You know Coach McAvoy’s sister?”
“I do. Such a sweet girl,” I say. “Or, I can have my sister Maeve call him. Or maybe his wife? Which one do you think would work best?”
I’ve never dropped a man’s jaw before. But right now Linc’s is on the ground.
“And before you ask, my sister worked with Hunter to design and decorate his wife’s new office. She’s the reporter, right? Could we call her? Maybe she can investigate around?”
Linc shakes his head as he snaps out of his daze. “She is. But you won’t. Is there any other line of communication you have with my coach that I don’t know about?”
I think about it for a second. “Besides Wes? I don’t think so. But I could use him. He was always my favorite of Simon’s friends. Or! My family has a way of making things happen. I can call my sister Stella, and she could do two Google searches and figure out who’s behind this. Then Quinn would key their cars. Simon would actually sue them. And Maeve? Well, she’s coordinate the chaos. We’re pretty versatile in vigilante justice.”
For the first time since he’s walked into my apartment, Linc gives me a genuine smile. “While I appreciate it, your family doesn’t have to come to my defense.”
“They don’t have to. They’ll want to.”
My directness seems to take him by surprise. “But they don’t know me, Ainsley. Why would they want to come to my defense?”
“Because I care about you, Linc. And if I say that it’s time to rally the troops, the troops get rallied. That’s how our family works. No question about it.”
Not that I’ve ever had to say those words before. Until I met Linc Kincaid, the worst thing that I’d need my family for is to help get my car out of a ditch because driving and I have never really gotten along. But I know in my heart of hearts that if I saidthat one last Banks family shenanigan had to happen, and in the name of Linc, they wouldn’t bat an eyelash.
