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His hands are on her ass, and his tongue is down her throat, and neither of them hear me until I clear my throat.
They jump apart guiltily.
“I mean, it’s a damn good thing it’s me and not Cade since you two are taking it slow,” I say, and they both laugh a little sheepishly.
“What’s going on?” Sam asks, clearly pretending like she’s not embarrassed, and her eyes fall down to my bag.
“Lincoln called pretty upset. I guess it was Miles’s ACL,” I say.
“Damn,” Devin curses. He’s an Aces fan, and I think everyone had high hopes for the kid.
“Looked like it.” Sam shakes her head a little, the resident expert in all injuries given her field of work.
“Are you cool with hanging here tonight and helping get Jonah to school in the morning? He asked if I could come over.” I twist my lips a little as I feel sort of bad for asking.
“Of course. Go,” Sam says, and at the same time, Devin teases, “Booty call!”
I roll my eyes. “You want to chat booty calls? Why are you two making out in the kitchen after midnight?”
Sam has the grace to blush, but Devin just shrugs as if to admit that sure enough, this is a booty call.
I creep quietly into the boys’ room and give Jonah a light kiss on the forehead without waking him up, and then I head over to Lincoln’s place.
He’s waiting for me with a nearly empty tumbler in his hand when he opens the door. He shuts and locks it behind me before he bends down to press a soft kiss to my lips, and then he heads back toward the kitchen. I’m still not real sure what to expect here, but I sort of just want to go back to sleep since now it’s approaching one in the morning.
I follow him into the kitchen, and he fills his glass. Before he picks it up, I slide in between him and the counter, and I wrap my arms around his waist.
“It’ll be okay, Linc,” I murmur as I look up at him.
He links an arm around me, his eyes glassy when they land on mine. “Will it?”
“Fletcher is capable.”
“Is he?”
I sigh. “I know you’re upset, but I’m not sure why you asked me over if you’re only going to negate everything I say with sarcastic questions.”
“Why’d I ask you over? What about because I wanted the kind of distraction only you can give me?” His mouth crashes down to mine, and he tastes like whiskey.
I can’t help but wonder how much he’s had as I push him back a little. “Not like this,” I say, shaking my head.
He looks wounded.
“I think you should probably just go sleep it off,” I suggest.
He moves back and reaches around me for his glass. “But I just refilled. Terrible thought to let a good Stagg go to waste.”
“Did you invite me over to watch you drink?” I ask, hands on my hips.
He doesn’t crack a smile when he says, “No, I invited you over for sex, but you’ve already issued that rejection, so I guess I return to the bottle.”
I snag my bottom lip between my teeth. “I have to be up in six hours to return to a job I don’t care for and play boss to a bunch of people I also don’t much care for. If there’s a point to me being here, make it. Otherwise, I’d like to go home to my son.”
He blows out a long breath. “I certainly didn’t invite you over with the intention of fighting with you. I’m sorry.” He wanders over to the couch and sits. “It’s been a long day, and now I’m going to have to sub Fletcher in, and you saw how he handled the ball.” He shakes his head. “Might have to go to the practice squad and see what we’ve got there.”
“What about Marsh?” I ask, naming the third string quarterback.
He purses his lips a little. “Bobby Marsh is no Miles Hudson, you know? It’s like watching my entire season go down the drain on one fucking play.”
