Her mouth snapped open so fast her jaw clicked. “B-bdsm?”
“What? No! I mean, each to their own, but I mean doing stuff on your period!”
She went quiet for a moment, chewing the cinnamon candy before swallowing hard. “I feel like I need an emergency girl meeting. I’m becoming more and more aware of just how sheltered my upbringing was. We didn’t talk about periods in front of my dad, and my mom barely acknowledged them other than to ask if I needed a restock of ‘supplies’ every month. In high school, guys did the ‘ew, icky, that’s disgusting’ and ‘must be that time’ thing, so having a rational, serious conversation with a guy is just mind blowing. My mind is blown. Lincoln Scott, you are an enigma.”
Suddenly grateful to his sisters, a sadness crept over him that Cleo’s experience hadn’t been the same, safe-space his parents had fostered for their family. He reached for the laptop and she snuggled against his chest.
“Oh!” She reached over the edge of the bed and grabbed her purse. She pulled out a pair of glasses, slipped them onto her face and resumed snuggling.
“You wear glasses? Gotta say, Lizzy, they’re kinda hot as fuck.”
She laughed. “Thanks. Yeah, I wear contacts during the day, but when my eyes get tired, or there’s a high chance I’ll fall asleep, I switch to my glasses.”
He planted a kiss on her temple. “Like I said, it’s hot. Totally here for it.”
“So… which Pirate is the kinky one?” She eyed him from behind her hair.
“Sorry babe.” He shook his head. “First rule of Pirate Club…”
“Ah, but you already talked about Pirate Club.” She pointed an accusing finger.
“I did. But I’ll never be the one to out him for his kinks.”
“Well that just makes me l… ike you even more. You’re a good man, Lincoln.”
Warmth from her cheeks radiated through his shirt. His heart kicked up a beat. Was she about to say love? Not wanting to want to freak her out, he remained still. Did she love him? “Just don’t tell anyone. Can’t have everyone thinking I’m a good guy.”
Chapter 22
Cleo
“I almost said it!” Cleo panic-cleaned the counter at the coffee shop, scrubbing at the same spot with the same frantic energy she’d been channeling all morning.
Molly grinned. “You almost told Linc you love him?”
“We’ve been through this, Mol.”
“Actually, Cho-Cho, we haven’t. You keep saying ‘I almost told him’ and ‘I nearly said it,’ but you haven’t actually voiced what the ‘it’ is. I need to hear you say ‘it,’ Cleo.”
Cleo’s chest tightened. “I…” Her breath caught on jagged edges of something she couldn’t identify in her throat. Fear? Uncertainty? Vulnerability? She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the edge of the counter.
“What’s stopping you from saying it?”
Cleo shook her head. “I don’t know. I thought I’d… I think he’s the first. Saying it out loud, gives it power or something.”
“What do we say about love?”
When Cleo couldn’t bring herself to answer, Molly sighed. “Love is giving someone the power to hurt you – like, real bad hurt – and trusting them not to. You can’t tell me you don’t trust Linc. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have been the overshare queen with him before you knew who he really was, and he obviously trusts you, too.”
“I dunno, Molly.”
Molly dragged her fingertip through the foam of her cappuccino. “Will says the team have never seen Linc like this before, Cho-Cho.” She spoke into her cup.
“Like what?”
Two customers stood from their table next to the window, chairs scraping along the terracotta tiles. One of them waved, and the other called a quick thank you before they left. Cleo grabbed a tray and rinsed out her dishcloth, ready to clean the vacated table.
Molly grabbed her arm. “Can you stop running? For like a second, please? Talk to me, what’s going on in your head, Her-me-o-nee?”
