That Girl (That Girl, #1)(52)

“The coolest town around. It’s a little piece of heaven about forty-five minutes out. Last year when I went, there was this little place called The Shop. You’ll love it. It’s a coffee shop with tons of girly shit. The whole town consists of one main road, and all the businesses shut down to do trick or treating. Then there’s a huge bonfire down by the lake with music and food.”

“Fun. So is there a costume contest, or why did we dress up?”

“It’s Halloween, and we dressed up because you’ll feel like a fool if you don’t. Everyone dresses up.”

“You better not be shitting me,” I tease, “or you’ll be cut off for weeks.”

“I think I liked it better when Jenni was teaching you oral skills, not sexual punishment tactics.”

“How much longer until we get there?”

“Let me guess, you have to pee?”

“Yep.” I squirm a bit in my seat for emphasis.

“Hang tight, we’ll be there in ten or so.”

I lay my head on his shoulder and watch as the mile markers tick by and take a moment to think about everything that has happened over the last couple years. Never in my wildest dreams would I guess I’d be sitting here next to a man I love.

The day I decided to leave home and never return, I wanted nothing but a blank and shallow life. I wanted to live in the shadows and never be noticed. It just goes to show your life is never mapped out to a certain destination. Circumstances change, people evolve, and shit happens. This time it all happened in my favor, and I’d be lying if I said wasn’t scared. I wake up every morning in a panic knowing today might be the day I lose Lincoln. It could be the day the inevitable barriers will finally succeed and break us up. Each night, I lay my head on my pillow listening to his playlist, and I very quietly thank God for giving me one more day with him.

“Here it is,” he announces, pulling me out of my head and back into the moment.

We pull into a very small town. Basically it’s one street, filled with old brick buildings and streetlights.

“We’re going to park on this end of town and walk down the main road and then out to the bonfire. Sound good?” He pulls into a lot and eases the truck into a spot.

“Perfect,” I reply.

Hopping out of his truck, I feel a bit foolish in the tiny cheerleading costume and tug it down in all the right places.

“I don’t think so,” he growls, grabbing the hem of my skirt and pulling it back up, then sliding his hands down to cup my ass.

“I’ve always wanted to bang a cheerleader in the bed of this truck.”

“You’re terrible. What if someone’s watching us?” I hiss.

“Then they are about to get a good show.”

“Stop.” I bat at his roaming hands, not sure if I should be laughing or alarmed.

Lincoln refuses to listen, hoisting me up, pinning me against his chest and the side of his truck while he devours my lips. I hold back for a couple seconds, hoping he will back off since we are in a very public place, but when he grinds against me, I dive straight into his trap. When I ease back into him, Lincoln pulls me from the side of the truck, opens the door and lays be across the back seat.

“Lincoln, what are you doing?”

“Trick or treat, baby,” Lincoln says with a devilish grin, tugging my panties down and lifting my skirt.

“Lincoln,” I squeal.

I feel his breath first, then his tongue darts out and takes a taste.

“You know this is my favorite treat, so give it.”

His head disappears again, and I feel his tongue and then two fingers slide in and out. My hands always find the same spot when he does this, gripping his hair and pushing him further in.

I can barely catch my breath. “Lincoln, Lincoln, oh my God, please.”

My hips join in, and with one final swipe of his tongue I spiral out of control and tug harder on his hair. Finally, I fall all the way down in the back seat of his truck, completely relaxed and exhausted.

“Son of a bitch, you’ve got a good grip,” Lincoln says, rising over me and rubbing his scalp.

I feel his hands as he rearranges my panties and skirt, and then lays over me with both of our feet dangling out the door.

“It’s all your fault that I pull so hard.”

He grins, completely without shame. “Blame it on my sweet tooth.”

“Do you think there will be cotton candy somewhere?”

“Yes,” he says chuckling, “but you’re on a two bag limit.”

“Fine.”

“Let’s roll.” He makes no attempt to move.

“Get off me.”

“Good idea. I want to take you to that shop first.”

We walk down the sidewalk of the cute little town.

“This place could totally be in a movie. I love it here,” I say.

“I’ve always wanted to move here when I settle down, knock my wife up and raise our kids in this town.”

“You’ll be too busy in the NFL.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles.

I take his hand. “I do.”

“Oh, there it is across the street.”

And just like Lincoln described it, there sits a brick building with a rustic sign hanging above the door, The Shop. When we open the door a loud ding signals our arrival. Immediately, I’m in heaven. There are all sorts of crafts, accessories, and artwork, and the smell of fresh brewed coffee hits you hard. My eyes don’t have long to look before a ruckus on the floor catches my attention. It’s like a mini-tornado or something, and all I can make out is long blonde hair flying, and a man.