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A WEEK LATER, LATE on a Friday afternoon, Summer was sitting next to Lincoln at a conference table in the office of Hiram Graves, the attorney who’d managed her trust fund ever since her grandmother died when Summer was sixteen. He was a competent man in his sixties who’d always done his job and never made any attempt to get to know her even though he’d been appointed her legal guardian for a year and a half until she’d turned eighteen.
Summer had never blamed him for not being anything but professional with her. He wasn’t her family. There was no reason for him to act like he was. She’d spent her childhood being lonely, and her grandmother’s death hadn’t changed her situation in any real way. She’d never expected to be adopted into someone else’s family. She’d just needed someone who was legally responsible for her until she was officially an adult.
Hiram was scrupulous with the administration of the money her grandmother had left her, and she never doubted that he took good care of it. She didn’t have to like him or enjoy her meetings with him.
She’d gotten off work a few hours early, so she was dressed in her skirt, tall boots, and vintage velvet jacket. The heat in the suite was set too high, and it was stuffy in the room.
Lincoln wore jeans and a long-sleeved crewneck. Typically inappropriate for the occasion.
They’d been there for more than an hour already, and Summer was getting bored and restless from the way Hiram was reviewing every single point of the paperwork they were signing.
She already knew all those details. She’d already made her decision.
She didn’t need to sit through the whole thing again and suffer through Hiram’s looks of condescending disapproval.
Lincoln hadn’t said much, but she could sense he was annoyed too. He felt tense beside her—a sure sign something was bothering him. He slanted a sideways look at her, catching her watching him. His thick eyebrows arched with a wordless question.
She gave her head a slight shake, assuming he’d understand the gesture as saying nothing was wrong and he shouldn’t pursue the topic or interrupt Hiram’s monotonous droning.
He did understand, and Hiram droned on undisturbed.
It was another twenty minutes before Hiram got to the final page. Summer reached for the expensive fountain pen that he’d set in front of her. As soon as she signed, this meeting would be over.
Instead of sliding her the page, Hiram met her eyes. “I believe this is a mistake.”
She sighed. “I know that. You’ve told me more than once now. But this is my decision. Lincoln is my husband, so his family business is my family business as well. The terms of the trust allow me to use my money as I want in this situation.”
“When your grandmother set out those terms, she assumed you wouldn’t marry a man for no other reason than to throw your money away.”
She’d never told Hiram the real reason she’d married Lincoln, but he wasn’t a fool. The quick marriage followed immediately by the large investment in Wilson Hotels told a clear story. But suspicions were different from knowing for sure, and he couldn’t do anything to block the investment unless he knew for sure that the marriage was a scam.
She gave him a cool glare. “I’m not throwing my money away. I’m investing in a business I believe in.”
Hiram shook his balding head. “Your belief in it is based on personal affection and not on facts or numbers. Wilson Hotels has a history of being a bad investment that eats up every—”
“Enough,” Lincoln broke in curtly. His voice was sharp but not loud.
Both Hiram and Summer turned to him in surprise.
Lincoln continued, “She’s made her decision. She isn’t a child. She’s a mature, intelligent woman who has decided what she wants to do with her own money. You’ve voiced your concerns. Your job is done. The decision is Summer’s, so allow her to make it.”
Hiram curled up his lip—obviously unused to being talked to that way—but he slid the final page over to Summer so she could sign and date it.
She felt weirdly fluttery as she did so. Her hair fell forward as she leaned over the table, and when she’d signed, she peeked through it over at Lincoln.
He wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at an empty spot on the table.
She’d been on her own since she was sixteen, and she’d felt alone for long before that. She’d had to make her way through the world by herself. She’d had to face problems on her own and fight all her own battles.
She wasn’t used to someone taking up for her the way Lincoln just had.
Obviously the marriage wasn’t real, but it was kind of nice. To have a husband who stuck up for her. To have someone who was on her side.
Hiram said a few more things after she’d signed. She wasn’t really listening. And a few minutes later she and Lincoln were leaving the office.
She kept shooting him little looks, wondering what he was thinking. He was uncharacteristically quiet as they walked through the reception area outside Hiram’s office and into the main hallway of the law firm.
“Why do you keep peering at me?” Lincoln murmured, his eyes focused straight ahead.
She had no idea how he’d known she was watching him. “No reason.” She felt her cheeks flushing slightly, although she didn’t know why she would be embarrassed. “Just... thanks.”
He stopped and turned to face her. “For what?”
“For that. Back there. For taking my side.” She dropped her eyes but raised them again because she wanted to see his expression. “I’m not used to it.”
He was frowning thoughtfully. “Not used to what?”
“I’m not used to not facing everything alone.” She gulped, hardly believing she’d said something so vulnerable.
For just a moment she thought her words had affected him. His features twisted just slightly, like he was processing some sort of emotion. But then his mouth turned up in a little smile. “The man is a patronizing asshole, and I wanted him to shut up. It was way too hot in that room.”
Ridiculously, she was disappointed in the way he’d turned her gratitude into an ironic joke. “Still.”
He nodded, his smile fading into something else. “He was definitely being an ass, but he’s right, you know.”
“Right about what?”
“About your making a mistake.”
She took an awkward step backward, wanting to put a little space between them. He always stood way too close. “I’m not making a mistake.”
“Yes, you are. And deep down, you have to know it.” He moved forward as she moved back until she was pinned against a wall, blocked by the position of his body. “Admit it.”
She was tempted to push him away, but that would feel like a defeat. She tightened her jaw and glared up at him, her earlier fluttering gratitude transforming into indignation in an instant. “I’m not going to admit anything of the kind. I’ve thought everything through. I know what I’m doing.”
“But you’re not doing it because you believe in the future of Wilson fucking Hotels. You’re doing it because you love Carter.” He’d grown angry just as quickly as she had. His voice was soft and rough, and his body was shuddering with pent-up feelings.
“What’s wrong with that? Carter is as close to family as I’ve ever had. You do things for family that you wouldn’t do for strangers. It’s not wrong, and it’s not unnatural. I have the money. It’s only a very small amount—”
“It’s millions of dollars. It’s not a small amount.”
“It’s a small amount compared to the amount I have. I’ve got this huge pile of money. It was given to me. I did nothing to earn it. Why shouldn’t I use a little of it to help someone I love? Tell me, Lincoln. Why shouldn’t I?”
“You can do anything you want.” His skin was damp with a faint sheen of perspiration. She didn’t know if it was from the heat of the office or the intensity of whatever he was feeling. “Exactly as I told Graves. But you’re throwing your money away. You know that, right? You’re throwing it away.” He planted a hand on the wall next to her shoulder and tilted his head down toward hers.
Lincoln was standing only a few inches from her. She could reach out and touch him. She wanted to so much that she had to clench her fingers at her sides. “You say that because you assume I’m expecting to get the money back. I’m not. It’s not an investment for me. It’s a gift. It’s a gift, Lincoln. Carter needs it, and I have it to give him. You don’t expect to get a gift back.”
He was breathing heavily. She could hear the raspy rhythm of it. See his chest rise and fall.
“Why does it make you so angry?” Summer demanded. “Why do you care what I do with my money? Why does it have anything to do with you?”
“Maybe I’m tired of seeing it.”
“Seeing what?”
“Seeing you throwing your heart away to Carter when he’s never—never—going to want it the way he should. He’s never going to recognize what it’s worth.” His eyes were on fire, flashing with a passionate resentment that made her breathless.
Her mouth was bone dry. She licked her lips and swallowed. “That’s not... that’s not what’s happening.”
“Isn’t it? Hasn’t it been happening since high school?”
“No. I mean, maybe when I was younger, I had some... You were right about prom. About how I felt back then. But not now. That’s not why I’m doing this now.”
Something was changing on his face, but she couldn’t recognize what the difference was. He scanned her face urgently. “Then why are you?”
She felt exposed. Stripped bare. Like he could see into the heart of her in a way no one else ever had.
It terrified her.
She didn’t know this man very well. He wasn’t a stranger, but he also wasn’t a friend. And Carter was right. He couldn’t necessarily be trusted.
Not with the deepest parts of her.
She licked her lips again. “I don’t... know.”
He leaned even closer. She could feel his breath on her flushed skin. “Yes, you do know. Tell me.”
Normally, this kind of intensity would make her so uncomfortable she’d retreat. She’d give in just to have the confrontation over. But she wasn’t going to give in to Lincoln. “No. I’m not going to tell you. And you can’t intimidate me into it.”
“I’m not trying to intimidate—”
“Look at yourself!” she interrupted sharply. “Look at how you’re standing. You’ve got me trapped against this wall. And you’re really going to claim you’re not trying to intimidate me?”
He blinked. Then looked down at himself. At her. At his hand braced on the wall. He dropped it suddenly and stepped back. “I wasn’t doing that on purpose.”
“I know you weren’t. You’re used to people giving in to you. You’re used to women swooning at your feet because you offer them nothing but your hotness. And you find it frustrating that I won’t.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not expecting you to swoon at my feet.”
“Aren’t you? Isn’t that why you’re always so annoyed with me?”
“No. It’s not. And you should know me better than that by now.”
“I know you plenty well. And you’re fooling yourself if you don’t realize how easily you can normally get people to do what you want them to do. And how impatient you get when they won’t.”
“My impatience with you has nothing to do with not making you do what I want you to do.”
“You’re lying.”
“No.” He planted his hand on the wall again. “I’m not.”
They glared at each other until Summer’s anger transformed into a rush of need and desire that nearly buckled her knees. She wanted to touch him. Kiss him. Run her hands all over his big, tense body.
It was literally painful to hold herself back from doing so.
She had no idea what she would have done or said—or what Lincoln would have done or said—had she not become conscious of another presence in the hallway.
She turned her head and saw Carter standing a few feet away. He was frozen with a look of confused disbelief. And something else. Something deep and aching. His eyes shifted back and forth between her and Lincoln.
Suddenly terrified and more self-conscious than she would have been had Carter caught them with Lincoln’s hand down her pants, Summer pushed Lincoln backward. Not hard but firmly enough to move his body.
“Hey, Carter,” she said, forcing a casual cheer she wasn’t feeling. “I didn’t know you were coming by.”
Carter blinked a few times before meeting her eyes. “I was just stopping by to check on things.” He glanced over toward Lincoln, who was standing tense and silent. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Lincoln and I were just having a... disagreement. But it’s no big deal.”
It felt like a big deal, but she didn’t know why.
“Okay,” Carter said slowly. “You want to get some coffee or something?”
“Sure,” Summer said with a smile that she hoped was more natural. “That sounds good.”
Both she and Carter turned to look at Lincoln.
His face was dead sober as he looked between Summer and his brother. “I don’t know if I was part of that invitation, but I’ve got stuff to do. I’ll see you guys later.”
Without another word and without glancing again at her, he made his way down the hall toward the elevator.
Summer’s stomach twisted. She felt heavy. Guilty. Confused.
And she couldn’t help but resent Lincoln for making her feel that way.
Carter still looked kind of upset, even after his brother had left. Summer went over to take his arm. “It’s fine, Carter. It was nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing. It looked like you...” Carter took a shaky breath.
“It looked like what?”
“It looked... intimate.”
She gasped. “It wasn’t intimate! There’s nothing intimate between Lincoln and me.”
“Are you sure?”
“We were fighting. We weren’t kissing or anything.”
“I don’t know why, but it looked like you were doing both. At the same time.”
“We weren’t!” Her voice cracked. This whole thing was terrible, and she had no idea how to make it better. “I’m not that close to Lincoln. We’re just married so we can get access to my trust fund. You know that. It’s almost over. We can get divorced in another month or so. Then I won’t have to worry about Lincoln ever again.”
Despite her words, the idea of being done with Lincoln made her heart sink more than ever.
Carter exhaled deeply and rubbed his face. “I never should have done this to you.”
“You didn’t do anything to me.”
“Yes, I did. I got you into this mess. And if you end up getting hurt, it’s all on me.”
“It’s not on you, and I’m not going to get hurt. I’m not a silly girl who falls for a hot body, pretty eyes, and a cocky attitude. You know I’m not.”
“I know you’re not. That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Then what?”
He bit his lower lip and then quickly released it. “I don’t even know. But I really screwed up. I screwed up bad. Everything that happens now is all my fault.”
She tried to argue some more since he was wrong. She knew he was wrong. But he was walking toward the elevator, so she didn’t get the chance.
***
THAT EVENING, SUMMER was getting ready for bed at around ten. It was early, but she was exhausted and hadn’t felt like going out. So she took a long bath and changed into a pretty white camisole and lavender pajama pants.
She was brushing her hair when there was a knock on the door.
With a surprised jerk, she turned toward the main door of the room before she realized the knock hadn’t come from there.
It had come from the private door that connected her room to Lincoln’s.
Confused and strangely nervous, she walked over. “Yes?”
“Can you open the door, Summer?” Lincoln’s voice was slightly muffled by the barrier between them.
“Why?”
“For God’s sake, I’m not planning to have my wicked way with you. I want to talk for a minute.”
Despite the faint annoyance in his tone, she hesitated. Her hand was slightly shaky as she reached for the lock.
When she swung the door open, Lincoln was standing across the threshold. He wore the same thing he’d been wearing earlier in the day, but his hair was more rumpled and his eyelids were heavy.
“Why aren’t you at work?”
“I have the week off.” His eyes ran up and down her body from her loose hair to the hairbrush in her hand to her bare feet. His eyes lingered just a little longer on her breasts through the thin fabric of her top.
“Why?”
“Because I have vacation time, and I have to use it sometime. Can we talk for a minute?”
“I thought we were talking now.”
He rolled his eyes, and she relented, stepping out of the way so he could come into her bedroom.
She stayed standing where she was rather than getting anywhere close to the bed. She found him way too attractive. She thought about sex far too much when he was around. She wasn’t going to risk it.
“Are we all right?” Lincoln asked.
“With what?”
“With earlier. Our argument or whatever it was. Are we all right?”
She nodded. “Yes. We’re all right. You’re an exasperating person, but I’m used to that by now. I’m not still mad or anything.”
“Good. Then have you talked to Carter this evening?”
Her eyes widened. “Tonight? No. Not since we had coffee this afternoon. I didn’t see him, so I figured he was out on a date or something.”
“He’s not. He’s home.”
“Really? Where is he?”
“He’s in the library with the door closed. He’s drinking. A lot.”
Summer’s eyes grew even rounder. “What? Carter doesn’t drink a lot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drunk before.”
“That’s because he doesn’t let you see it. But he does drink occasionally. When he’s really upset about something.” Lincoln’s face was as close to worried as she’d ever seen it. “He’s upset about something now.”
“He was kind of upset earlier because he was feeling guilty. He thinks he pressured me into this marriage.”
“He did pressure you into this marriage.”
“Lincoln, stop it with that. It’s not helping anything. Anyway, he was a little upset earlier, but I talked him out of it.”
“I don’t think you did. He’s still upset. He’s drinking a lot.”
Summer looked toward the main door of her room as if Carter might be lurking in the hallway. “Are you sure? Carter doesn’t do that.”
“Summer, listen to me.” Lincoln reached over and put a hand on her shoulder, turning her back around to face him. “Carter does do that. Not much, but occasionally. He’s never let you see him do it because he likes for you to think he’s a perfect hero. He likes you to think he’s a saint.”
“I don’t think—”
“He’s not a saint, Summer. He’s a much better man than me, but he’s also a regular human being who messes up sometimes and doesn’t always handle it well. He’s wallowing in guilt right now, and he’s trying to drink himself into a stupor.”
His sober tone and expression convinced her. With a rush of urgency, she hurried over to grab a soft bathrobe from the back of the bathroom door. “And you just left him there alone?”
“He didn’t want me there. I was making it worse. He needs you, so I came to get you.”
Summer quickly tied the sash of her robe and slid on a pair of slippers. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll talk to him.”
She was on her way out the door when Lincoln grabbed her arm. “Hey, wait a minute.”
Pausing, she gazed up at his handsome face. “What?”
Lincoln held her gaze without wavering. “Carter might not be a sinner like me, but he’s not a saint. Don’t expect him to be one. It makes it harder for him when he can’t live up.”
Summer let the words process. Then she nodded. Pulled out of his grip. And walked away from him.
***
WHEN SHE REACHED THE library, the door was closed. It wasn’t a private room of the house, but it was unusual for the door to be closed, so she knocked a few times before she opened it.
“Go away, Lincoln!” Carter’s voice was muffled and slightly slurred. Not like him at all.
She stepped into the room and found her friend slumped in a leather armchair near the large marble fireplace. He had the gas log turned on—blazing far too high for the room. It felt like she was walking into an oven. “It’s not Lincoln.”
There was a delay before his jerk of surprise. Clearly his mind wasn’t working as quickly as usual. He held a mostly empty glass of what looked and smelled like bourbon. “Go away, Summer.”
“I don’t want to go away. What are you doing in here?” She came over to sit in the leather chair opposite his. She was already sweating from the heat of the fireplace.
“What does it look like?” He finished off the liquor in his glass and then leaned over to grab a bottle from a side table to pour himself another.
Definitely bourbon.
“This is ridiculous, Carter. How much of that have you drunk?”
He shrugged.
“This isn’t like you.”
His brown eyes were hazy and his lids heavy, but he managed to give her a sideways glare that was speakingly annoyed.
She remembered what Lincoln had said and went on. “Okay. Maybe it is. Occasionally. But there’s no reason for you to drink yourself silly. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He huffed. And kept huffing. She supposed he was laughing, but it wasn’t like any laughter she’d heard from him before.
“Carter, please.” She leaned over and reached out to squeeze his knee. “I’m fine. I’m perfectly happy. I’m not hurt in any way by this marriage. You don’t have to feel guilty.”
“I don’t feel guilty,” he mumbled, staring at the fire rather than at her. “I feel...”
“You feel what?”
“I feel...” He trailed off again. Didn’t finish the thought. Just took another big swallow of bourbon.
“Carter—”
“Summer, if you’re going to sit in here with me when I’ve asked you not to, the least you can do is not yammer the whole time.”
A pang of pain and defensiveness slashed through her chest at the words—far ruder than Carter’s normal kind nature—but she didn’t let herself react with words. No good would come with arguing with him right now. He was obviously hurting. If she was going to help him, she couldn’t let him feel even worse.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Then the least you can do is pour me a glass of that.”
He glanced at the bottle, as if the fact that he was still holding it surprised him. Then he shrugged and stretched the full length of his body to reach a clean glass from the bar. He poured her a drink and handed it to her.
She took a small sip. The taste was good. Warm. Filling. But stronger than she preferred her drinks to be.
But she wasn’t going to leave Carter here all by himself.
She sat with him for almost an hour. It took nearly the whole time for her to finish her glass. Carter drunk his down and poured himself another, but after that he sat holding his empty glass, staring at the fake fire.
She didn’t know if her presence was helping anything, but he’d asked her not to talk, so she didn’t.
“Go to bed, Summer,” Carter finally muttered. He still wasn’t looking at her.
“I don’t want to. Not until you do.”
“I’m going to bed soon.”
“Are you?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t move.
“Carter—”
“Summer, don’t.”
She straightened, trying not to respond emotionally. But it hurt. A lot. Carter never treated her like this, and she didn’t understand what had gotten into him now.
Lincoln said this wasn’t the first time he’d broken down like this, but she’d never seen it happen before. She didn’t like it. She wanted it to be over. She wanted to fix it but had no idea how to do so.
“Summer, I know you want to help.” Carter finally turned to meet her gaze with eyes that looked pained, bleary. “But there’s nothing you can do right now. So can you please back off a little? I need some space.”
“But why do you need space from me?”
“It’s not just you. It’s everyone. I’m asking you. If you’re my friend, you’ll give me some space for a few days.”
She gulped. Nodded. Carefully set her glass down before she rose to her feet. “Okay. But I love you, Carter. And I know you love me too. You’ve never hurt me. So please don’t feel bad on my account.”
He stared at her blankly. She wasn’t even sure if her words had registered. With nothing else to do, she left the room, her eyes burning as she returned to her bedroom.
***
IT WAS LATE—WELL PAST midnight—when she brushed her teeth, went to the bathroom, and climbed into bed. But she wasn’t sleepy. There was no way she could sleep. So she turned on the television and flipped around until she found an old sitcom she could tolerate.
She’d been watching it blindly for about ten minutes when there was a knock on the door.
Not her main door but the one that connected to Lincoln’s room.
“It’s still open,” she called out.
Lincoln opened the door, letting in a wash of light from his room. His body was silhouetted against it for a moment—a lean, dark, faceless figure—until he took several steps toward her bed.
She could see him better now. He was dressed for bed in pajama pants and nothing else. He stood above her, gazing down at her face.
“Is he okay?” he asked softly.
She swallowed hard. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. He wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Give him time.”
“That’s what he said, but it’s hard. He’s hurting, and I want to help him.”
“I’m not sure there’s anything you can do for him right now.”
“You said he’s done this before?”
“Yeah. Several times I can remember.”
“I’ve never seen him like this before.”
“Because he’s never let you. I told you before. He wants you to only ever see him be strong. He’ll keep weakness from you if he possibly can. Let him sulk for a day or two. He’ll snap out of it. He always does.”
“You’re sure?” She adjusted the covers up over her shoulders since Lincoln’s eyes kept slipping down to her chest. Her camisole wasn’t all that thick, and her nipples were probably visible through the fabric.
He met her eyes again. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay.” She sighed and stretched out, trying to relax. Tomorrow was Saturday, so she didn’t have work in the morning, but she’d made brunch and shopping plans with a couple of her friends, so she couldn’t sleep until noon.
She’d expected Lincoln to leave after confirming the condition of his brother, but he didn’t. He stood quietly, looking at her in the light and shadow of the room.
“What?” she finally demanded.
“Are you okay?”
With a weird pressure in her throat, she admitted, “I... don’t know.”
“It’s hard when an idol falls, isn’t it?”
“Carter wasn’t an idol to me.”
“Wasn’t he?”
“No. I mean, yes, I had some silly daydreams about him. In the past. Not now. But I’m not upset right now because he’s not a flawless hero.”
“Then what are you upset about?” It sounded like he really wanted to know.
“I don’t know. I’m worried about Carter. I don’t like to see him in pain. And... and...”
“And what?”
“And I guess I’m kind of sad.” She licked her lips and tried to think through the tumble of emotion inside her. “It feels like I’m... I’m leaving something behind. And it makes me sad.”
Lincoln took a step closer to the bed. “What are you leaving behind?”
“I don’t know.” It was a lie. She knew exactly what she was moving beyond. All her old hopes and dreams and feelings for Carter. They’d been important to her. Special. They’d given her something to hope for when she’d had nothing else.
But they’d died completely now, leaving her with a strange sort of grief.
“Yes, you do. Tell me. What are you leaving behind, Summer?” Lincoln was urgent. Inappropriately urgent for the nature of their conversation.
She shrugged. She knew Lincoln now. She understood him. She even liked him most of the time. But Carter had been right. It would be dangerous to trust him.
So she had to keep her most intimate thoughts to herself, no matter how tempted she was to share.
“Summer—”
“Stop pushing, Lincoln. It’s not your business what I’m feeling right now.”
“But I want to know.”
“Have you found in life that you always get what you want?”
“No.” He gave a soft huff of dry amusement. “Almost never.”
“So why would you assume you’d get what you want right now?”
His tense expression softened into a smile. “Why is it that you’re this stubborn and determined only with me?”
“I’m not like this only with you.”
“Aren’t you? From my observation, you’re sweet and accommodating with everyone else. We could ask any of our mutual acquaintances, and they’d all testify to that fact. So why don’t I get any of your sweetness?”
To her dismay, she felt herself blushing and flutters awakened in her heart. Hopefully he wouldn’t be able to see her reaction because of the darkness of the room. “Because you don’t deserve it. You be sweet to me, and I’ll be sweet to you.”
As soon as she heard the words in the air, she wished she hadn’t said them.
He took the final step toward the bed. He was close enough to touch now. He murmured thickly, “I can be as sweet as you want. Just say the word.”
Her whole body went hot. A throb of arousal pulsed between her legs. It took all the willpower she possessed to keep her voice even as she said, “Get out of here, Lincoln.”
With an almost wicked smile, he turned toward the connecting door between their rooms. “You can’t run forever, Summer.”
“I’m not running. I’m going to sleep. Now get out of here.”
“Your wish is my...” He was laughing as he walked out of the room.
***
SUMMER DIDN’T SEE CARTER all day on Saturday. Or Sunday. Or Monday.
She was really starting to worry.
On Sunday afternoon, she sent him a casual text message. Just checking in. There was no answer, so she tried again on Monday morning. Then again on Monday afternoon. She tried calling after dinner on Monday, but the call just went to voice mail.
Lincoln had said Carter would bounce back in a day or two, but it had been three days now and nothing. Carter had just disappeared.
She tried once more before she got into bed on Monday night, but there was no answer again. She wanted to talk to Lincoln—since he was the only thing that had made her feel better all weekend—but he’d gone out with friends that evening.
So instead she turned on the television and pulled up Netflix, searching for a few minutes until she found a show she liked and hadn’t watched for a while.
She’d gotten through about thirty minutes of an episode when there was a knock on the connecting door. “It’s open!” she called with a surge of relief and excitement. She hadn’t locked the door since Lincoln had come in to tell her about Carter on Friday evening.
Lincoln opened the door and came in. He wore dark jeans, a black T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. He smelled like whiskey and night air. “You in bed already?”
“It’s eleven. It’s not that early. I have to go to work tomorrow morning. Not all of us are on a week’s vacation.”
Lincoln gave her a quirk of a smile as he walked over to the opposite side of the bed. He toed off his shoes, dropped his jacket on the floor, and flopped down on top of the covers beside her.
She frowned at him. “Just go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”
“I am. What are we watching?”
“We aren’t watching anything. I was watching in the privacy of my room until you came barging in uninvited.”
“You said it was open.” He grinned at her—ridiculously appealing—before he turned toward the television. “Zombies? Really?”
“Why are you surprised? The early seasons were really good.”
“I don’t know. I just expected you to be absorbed in some schmaltzy animated Disney movie.”
She made a choked sound. “Why would you think that?”
“Don’t you like that kind of thing?” He turned toward her again, his eyes laughing, fond, uncharacteristically soft.
She scowled at him, trying to stifle the swell of pleasure and affection. “Occasionally. But not all the time. Sometimes I like to watch regular people trying to survive a zombie apocalypse.”
He chuckled and turned toward the television. They watched in silence until the episode was over.
She turned on her side so she was facing Lincoln. “Have you talked to Carter?”
He shifted to face her too. “Not since Friday.”
“Me either. Have you heard from him at all? Seen him?”
“No.” Lincoln frowned. “You mean you haven’t heard anything from him for three days?”
“Nothing. I’m getting worried. He hasn’t been sleeping here. He won’t answer his phone. He didn’t go into the office today.”
“Maybe he’s staying with a friend.”
“I’ve called all his friends. No one has heard from him. No one has seen him. He’s just vanished off the face of the earth.” She reached over and touched his forearm, which was resting on the bed between them. “Lincoln, I’m getting scared.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” He brushed a loose strand of hair off her face. “Don’t be scared. He does this. He always snaps back. Maybe he’s...” He trailed off with a thoughtful frown.
“He disappears completely? For more than three days? Has he done this before, Lincoln?”
“Not for so long. And he usually just hides away at home. But I’m sure he’s okay. Please don’t be scared.” He acted like he was brushing her hair back again, but there wasn’t any hair on her face. He was just brushing his fingers lightly against her cheek, and it felt so good it made her shudder.
But she was too worried about Carter to indulge that kind of feeling right now. “I’m trying not to be.”
“I’ll see what I can find out.” Lincoln rolled off the bed and stood up, reaching down to grab his jacket and shoes from the floor.
Her chest relaxed. She smiled up at him in relieved gratitude. “Thank you.”
He stared at her for a moment. She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. Then he gave his head a quick shake and he smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m sure your prince is off grooming his white steed somewhere. But I’ll see if I can track him down.”
“Thanks, Lincoln. Let me know if you find anything.”
“I will.” He went into his bedroom and closed the door, leaving her with nothing but the light of the television.
***
SUMMER WAS STILL WIDE-awake an hour later when there was another knock on the door.
“Come in!” Her voice cracked slightly on the second word.
Lincoln swung the door open and stood in the doorway. “I found him.”
She sat up in bed, the covers falling down to her waist. She was wearing a cute knit gown in a dusty pink. “You found him?”
“Yeah. He’s not being very stealthy. He’s putting everything on his credit card. He’s in Atlantic City.”
“Atlantic City! What is he doing there?”
“Well, from the credit card purchases, he’s spending a ridiculous amount of money at bars and casinos.”
“Oh no.” She covered her mouth with one hand. “Lincoln—”
“I know. I know.”
“This is not normal. He might really be in trouble, Lincoln.”
“I know.” His voice was slightly rough. He combed his fingers through his messy hair.
“What are we going to do? We have to do something. We have to help him.”
“Yeah.” Lincoln met her eyes across the distance and the bluish light of the television. “You want to go get him? Bring him home?”
“Yes. Yes, please!”
“There’s a flight from Charlotte at seven in the morning. You want me to get us tickets?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She got out of bed and hurried over to where he was standing. She reached out and grabbed for one of his arms. “Thank you, Lincoln.”
He gave a half shrug, looking slightly uncomfortable. “He’s my brother. And he’s obviously taken a tumble off his noble white steed. We’ll find him. We’ll haul him back up into the saddle where he belongs.”
Summer was so relieved and gratified and filled with fond feelings that she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing his lean, hard body in a hug.
Lincoln didn’t react immediately. He stood stiffly for so long she was about to draw back. But then his arms went around her too. He tightened them for a few seconds before he released her.
She pulled back, flushed and smiling. “I’ll be ready first thing tomorrow. I’ll take a couple of days off work. Thank you for finding him.”
“You’re welcome.” He was smiling too, but there was something else smoldering in his eyes. “But just a word of advice. That nightgown does nothing to hide your body. So unless you want to take me up on my offer of a good time, then you might put a robe on before you hug me again.”
She gasped and glanced down at herself. Crossed her arms on her chest.
Lincoln chuckled. “That’s what I thought. Be ready by the crack of dawn tomorrow. We’ll need to get an early start.”
She didn’t have time to say anything else before he was leaving and closing the door behind him.
Summer stared at the closed door for a long time. She didn’t lock it before she finally crawled back into bed.