Lincoln Shaw: a book in the Cotton Creek Saga (Heartbreakers & Heroes 8)

by Ciana Stone

  Lincoln had always thought there wasn't a jealous bone in his body. Until he saw the way the men at the gym watched Lula as she taught the class on the silks, or the way guys looked at her when they went to the Honky Tonk or out anywhere. Men looked at her. Wanted her.

  Hell, he understood it. She was sexy and seductive without even trying. Combine that with her exotic looks and killer body and she was a walking turn-on. So naturally, men looked at her with desire.

  It was downright disconcerting to discover that those things didn't just annoy him, they plucked a string he didn't know was inside him. Jealousy was a nasty business, and he'd learned to deal with it in time, but wasn't about to put himself in a position where he had to watch her laugh it up with some other man.

  It took longer than he anticipated to find a parking place, and by the time he asked someone where the dunking booth was, it as a quarter after the hour. He hated being late but felt sure she'd overlook it. Lula was a pretty remarkable woman.

  Hell, she was phenomenal, and he was crazier about her every day. So mad about her that he'd made up his mind to see what she thought about them moving in together. As he headed in the direction given to him to find the dunking booth, his mind turned to how to ask her and what exactly he wanted to say.

  *****

  "Come on, do it, Coach." Lula egged Dillon on, along with a dozen members of the football team who were trying to get him to take a turn in the booth.

  "I'm not letting you lunatics dunk me," he argued good-naturedly.

  "Then let her throw the ball," one of the players said and pointed to Lula.

  "Yeah, let me throw."

  Dillon rolled his eyes, looked from her to the players and back to her. "Fine. Three balls and we're done."

  "Ok," she agreed.

  "And," he added. "If you miss all three times, you take a seat, and I get a turn."

  "Deal." She offered him a fist bump.

  Dillon climbed into the booth, and Lula picked up the first ball. He knew she was a gymnast in school, but not that she'd played baseball as a child. She was one of two girls in her county to play on a boys team. She'd pitched and played catcher. She could nail a throw to second from behind the plate like a champ.

  To make things more interesting and string things out, she threw the first ball wide, not even getting close to the arm that would release the seat and dump Dillon. Everyone laughed, and he called out. "Good throw. For a girl."

  "Yeah, yeah, I'm just getting warmed up."

  She threw again and this time missed hitting the mechanism by just a few inches. Some people groaned, some cheered and Dillon taunted. "You're getting wet tonight, girl."

  "And so are you." With a grin, she wound up and hurled the ball. It smacked right into the center of the mechanism. She saw the look of shock on Dillon's face a split second before the seat beneath him collapsed and into the water he went.

  There was a lot of laughter and cheers. Lula grabbed a couple of towels from a stack they had for the volunteers and jogged over to where Dillon was standing in the booth. She climbed up the steps and offered a hand.

  He took it, but instead of her giving him a hand up, he pulled her into the booth. She landed on top of him, and they both went down. Lula came up sputtering and laughing, as did he. "Oh, you play dirty." She said as she put her hands on his shoulders and jumped up to shove him back down.

  It didn't quite work but did inspire a good water tussle that had the crowd cheering. When they finally stopped, they were both breathing hard and grinning. Lula couldn't have been more shocked when he suddenly snaked one arm around her waist, reeled her in and kissed her.

  Talk about a crowd going wild. She went rigid in surprise, her hands went to his chest and pushed against him. After a moment he released her, and she backed away. "What the hell, Dillon?"

  "I—I—damn, Lula, I don't know—I didn't. I'm sorry."

  "Forget it. No harm no foul. But you know there's going to be talk."

  "If you're worried about your job—"

  "I'm not. That's not it at all. I'm—" She couldn't even get the rest of the words out, because she looked out at the crowd and there stood Lincoln. Watching. And his expression was not cheerful in the least. He looked furious.

  In fact, the moment their gazes met, his eyes narrowed, then he turned on his heel and marched away.

  "Shit."

  "What?" Dillon looked out at the crowd.

  "The man I'm seeing. I think he saw that."

  "Well, let's go talk to him and I'll—"

  "No. No. I'll deal with it."

  "Are you sure. I don't—"

  "I'm sure, Dillon. Let's just get dried up and I'll go find him. It'll be fine."

  "If you're sure."

  "I am."

  They climbed out, grabbed towels and got as dry as possible. "You sure you don't want me to go with you to find him?" Dillon asked.

  "No, I think it's best if I go alone. See you on Monday." She started to walk away then turned and leaned in to whisper. "And by the way, I had wondered what it would be like."

  "And?"

  "I bet if I hadn't been shocked senseless it would have been amazing."

  With that, she turned and left. For the next hour, she searched the school and the parking lot. There was no sign of Lincoln. Finally, she went to her office, changed clothes and called him. The call went to voicemail.

  "Hey, it's me. Can we talk?"

  She gathered up her things and headed for her car. When he hadn't called back by the time she was in the car, she texted. Call me, please.

  He didn't. Not that night, the next day or the next. When Monday morning rolled around, she tried once more before she left for work. Still no answer. Lula couldn't believe that he would be that mad over what he'd seen, that he wouldn't even give her a chance to explain.

  But she supposed that proved that she didn't know Lincoln near as well as she'd imagined. Disappointed and hoping she wasn't about to experience true heartbreak, she headed for work.

  *****

  If her upset over Lincoln wasn't enough, Lula had just finished her last class before lunch when her phone rang. She checked the caller id and quickly texted. Will call you back as soon as I reach my office where it's private.

  The Senator's head of security didn't call unless there was a reason. She hurried to her office, closed the door and returned the call. "What's up?"

  "Nothing concrete but he said to give you the heads up. There was a threat. Back down or someone would pay. Someone close to him. We're upping security, and he said it's time for you to get closer."

  "That's easier said than done, Wayne. My office is a little four by four beside the gym, and he's in the football complex. Our worlds don't exactly run parallel or intersect, and I can't make them unless I start acting like a stalker."

  "Or a girlfriend."

  "Pardon?"

  "You heard me. We spoke with his father, and he gave the green light. He said he was going to speak with his son and explain the necessity."

  "No. No. Huh uh. Do you have any idea the shit storm that could start here? Not to mention what it'd do to my personal relationship?"

  "We can deal with the school. And you'll have to deal with your relationship."

  "Really? How? Can I be honest?"

  "I can't give permission for that."

  "Then you better get it, or the answer is no."

  "No? You want me to tell the Senator you said no?"

  That was the last thing she wanted. Lula knew she was beaten and suspected Wayne did as well because the one thing she'd never said to the Senator was no.

  "Fine. Tell him I need this. Can you do that?"

  "I will. Now get with it."

  "Fine. Goodbye."

  Lula ended the call and flopped into her desk chair. This was a red hot mess. She had to find Lincoln and tell him the truth. She couldn't let him think she was actually interested in Dillon. He had to know that this was just part of the job.

  A job
he didn't know she had. Secrets she'd deliberately kept from him. Damn, damn, damn. No matter how she phrased it, she was going to come across as a liar and maybe a cheat. She'd kept the real reason for her being here a secret, so why wouldn't she keep a fling with the coach s secret as well.

  It's just a job. That was the truth. How else could she say it?

  And was it part of the job on Friday? Lula grimaced at her own question. She could let Lincoln think her orders to pretend to be involved with Dillon had come in sooner. That might make it easier to broker for peace. But that was a lie, and while she wasn't an expert in relationships, one thing she knew was that lies didn't help build good ones.

  Besides, it dawned on her that Lincoln had not even been fair-minded enough to give her a chance to explain. He'd just walked away and refused to even speak to her. What did that say? About him and about them? Was it so easy for him to think that she'd take up with Dillon? And in such a public way? That she was devoid of loyalty to what they had?

  Or was this merely an excuse for him to walk away because he couldn't go the distance? Was this his shortcoming or hers?

  Suddenly, she really needed someone to talk to. She placed a call. Naomie answered on the second ring. "Hey girl, what's up?"

  "I need a friend."

  "Tell me when and where?"

  "Where are you now?"

  "At Mercy's."

  "Is she there?"

  "No. She, Netta and Nellie Mae are out for the day."

  "Can I come over after class? I'm done at two and can cancel cheer practice for today."

  "Then come on."

  "Okay, thanks."

  "No thanks needed. See you soon."

  Lula slid her phone into the pocket of her shorts, left her office and headed for the football complex. The coaches were in the coaches lounge, and every one of them went silent when she entered. She looked at Dillon. "Can we talk, babe?"

  The look of astonishment on his face didn't go unnoticed, but to his credit, he got to his feet. "Sure, let's go into my office."

  She noticed he closed the door, and didn't take a seat but stood there facing her. She didn't give him a chance to say anything. "Did you speak with your father?"

  "I did."

  "And he explained things to you?"

  "He did."

  "And?"

  "You're a bodyguard?"

  "Hold on. He explained things to you, and that's all you have to say?"

  "Yes."

  "Fine. Yes, at present I am. I was hired by your uncle. Before that, I was with the Secret Service."

  "You-you were Secret Service?"

  "Is that so hard to believe? There are quite a few female agents."

  "I guess so. Okay, fine. I just never imagined Secret Service agents looking like you. So you're my bodyguard, and now the threat is more real, and you need to be able to keep a closer eye on me?"

  "Yes."

  "And we do that how?"

  "Kiss me."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Kiss me."

  "You realize my coaches are out there watching?"

  "I do. We need them to see."

  "Why's that?"

  "Because they'll talk and before long everyone will think we're an item and then no one will find it odd that we're together a lot and I can do what I was hired to do and keep you safe."

  "Do you really think I need a woman to keep me safe?"

  "Do you have eyes in the back of your head? Do you even know how to go about spotting someone who doesn't belong, or a glint of light from a window that shouldn't be there? Are you an expert marksman or trained in hand-to-hand combat? Have you ever killed someone?"

  He glared at her for a moment then grabbed her and kissed her. Hard and long. When he released her, they both glared at one another. She wondered if he was trying as hard as she to pretend that kiss didn't pack a punch.

  "The answer is no," he said. "But it still rankles."

  "I know, Dillon and I'm sorry, but this is what I do, and you're the one I've been hired to protect, and I'll die doing it if that's what it takes, so please don't make it any more difficult than it has to be."

  "And what about that guy you're involved with?"

  "Sadly, I'm not sure I am anymore. He hasn't taken my calls since Friday, so I'm guessing we're done."

  "I'm sorry." This time his touch was gentle when he put his hand on her shoulder, and she appreciated the kindness.

  "Thanks, Dillon. For that and your cooperation."

  He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. "Well, hell, Lula. If I have to have a bodyguard, I guess I'll color myself lucky to get one who looks like you."

  She smiled and stayed in his embrace for a moment longer, then pulled back and kissed him quickly. "Call your uncle or dad, I don't care which, but tell them I need an office here close to you and I need it now. I can go back and forth only so much, and I can't shirk my responsibilities, or I'll lose the job, and we'll both be screwed."

  "I'll take care of it."

  "Can I count on that?"

  "You have my word."

  "Okay. I'm leaving at two, but I know you're covered during practice and at home, so I'll see you in the morning."

  "What do you mean I'm covered at practice and at home?"

  "Ask your father. And make sure to talk to him about new arrangements here."

  "Oh, I'll talk to him. That's for sure, and yes, I'll make sure things are taken care of."

  She opened the door and said loudly enough to be heard by all. "Okay, sugar. I'll see you later."

  Smiling at the stunned faces of the men in the coach's lounge, she headed for the door. At least that part of things was behind her. Now it was time to talk to Naomie and figure out what the heck to do about Lincoln.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lincoln drained his beer and tossed the bottle into the paper bag with the others. "You might want to slow down there, buddy," Mathias commented, put another piece of wood onto the chopping block and swung the ax. The wood split neatly in half.

  "Because?"

  "Never mind." Mathias shrugged and bent over for another log to split. "If you're spoiling for a fight, you're barking up the wrong tree. If you want someone to watch you get drunk, I'm not interested. But if you need or want to talk, you have my attention."

  "Nothing to talk about."

  "That's not how I hear it."

  "Oh?"

  Mathias swung the ax again. This time half of the wood shot off in Lincoln's direction. He bent over from where he sat on a stump and picked up the piece of wood to toss it in the general direction of the pile that was waiting to be stacked.

  "Well?" He asked.

  "Well, what? I said that's not how I hear it."

  "Then what exactly do you hear?"

  Mathias started to gather up the split pieces of wood and add them to the neat stack. "That you saw the high school coach kiss Lula in the dunking booth and took off and refuse to speak to her."

  "And?"

  "And that's what I heard."

  "That's it?"

  "Yeah, what else is there?"

  "Nothing."

  No one spoke for a few minutes. Lincoln opened another beer and Mathias continued to stack wood. "She did it in front of everyone." Lincoln finally said.

  "Did she?"

  "Yeah, I was there and saw it."

  "Did you?"

  "If you have something to say, just say it."

  "Fine." Mathias stopped and turned to face Lincoln. "What is it, exactly, you saw?"

  "I saw her kiss the coach."

  "You saw her kiss him or him kiss her?"

  "Does it matter which?"

  "Yeah, it does."

  "No, it doesn't." Lincoln knew Mathias was making a valid point, but at the moment wasn't feeling all that reasonable or fair-minded. All he could see when he closed his eyes was Lula, soaked to the skin, her hands pressed against that man's chest as he kissed her.

  "Really?" Mathias asked.

&
nbsp; "Look, I can see you don't get it, so I'll stop—"

  "Yeah, you will."

  Lincoln got to his feet. "Don't make this get ugly."

  "Never considered it. But you need to stop."

  "Stop what? Feeling pissed that she played me? Cheated on me?"

  "How do you know she did?"

  "You can't be that dense."

  "No, I can't, and I'd hope you weren't either. Look, it makes no sense for her to do that, knowing you were coming to meet her there. And moreover, Lula doesn't seem like the kind of woman who'd do that. So, what's really eating you?"

  Lincoln opened his mouth and then immediately closed it. There was no way he'd admit to Mathias that seeing Lula and that man kiss had filled him with the most horrible sensation of his life. Bone deep jealousy that made him mad enough to kill.

  He hated the feeling and had no clue how to get rid of it other than get the hell away from what inspired it. Namely, Lula.

  "I saw them kissing."

  "And it pissed you off. I get it."

  "She clearly can't be trusted. I'm not getting any more involved with a woman who starts running around behind your back at her first opportunity."

  "Fine, then don't. But you don't have to throw on a drunk, act like as ass and run away like a little bitch either."

  "You want to rephrase that?"

  "No. And no, I don't want to fight you, but if you come at me, I promise I'll put you down and you know I can despite your skills."

  Lincoln did know that, and he really had no desire to get into a beef with Mathias. He just wanted to stop feeling the way he did. "I apologize. This thing just—" he blew out his breath and sat back down. "It's humiliating."

  "Oh, so that's it. I get it. You've made a career out of being the one to walk away, or play around or cheat. It's you who makes the other person in the equation feel less than, thrown away or humiliated. You've never been on the receiving end."

  "Fuck you, Mathias."

  Mathias shrugged and went back to stacking wood. "Just call it like I see it, bro."

  Lincoln hated that Mathias was right. He was genuinely disappointed that Lula had kissed Dillon Walker. He thought they had the start of a relationship. Seeing that had changed how he thought, and it made him feel small and, well, played. That was what really soured his gut.