Page 63 of Book of Love


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“Sonuvabitch.” Ray let out a hoarse chuckle. “Grace put you up to this?”

“You think Grace asked me to convince her father to start boxing?” Lincoln shook his head and picked up another peanut. “Man, you don’t know her very well.”

Ray laughed again.

“Two bacon burgers.” Rory Prescott arrived with their plates. She was Grant’s fiancée, a stunning young woman with long black hair and a go-to-hell attitude that Lincoln appreciated. Brooke had told him Rory was a software engineer who helped out at the tavern when it was busy. “You guys want refills?”

“Not yet, thanks.”

After she left, both Lincoln and Ray dug into their food and busied themselves eating. Best damn burger Lincoln had had in ages, even if it did hurt his jaw to chew.

“Where’s the gym?” Ray slathered ketchup on his fries.

“Over near Glendale, off the interstate. About fifteen minutes away.”

“When’re you going again?”

“Anytime. I’m staying out of the ring for a while, though.”

Ray bit into his burger and spoke around the mouthful. “Next time you go, lemme know. I might catch a ride.”

“Okay.”

“I might not.” Ray gave him a narrow look. “I’ll think about it, is what I’m saying.”

“Whatever.” Lincoln wiped his hand on a napkin and took out his phone. “Makes no difference to me either way. What’s your number?”

Ray rattled off his cell number. Lincoln put it into the phone and returned to the burger. “If I remember, I’ll text you before I go.”

“Whatever.” Ray took a gulp of beer. “No skin off my nose.”

Suppressing a grin, Lincoln excused himself to use the restroom. As he washed his hands, he studied himself in the mirror. His eye was underscored by a black purplish bruise, but it wasn’t badly swollen. Still, combined with the nasty cut on his jaw, he was going to have to answer some student questions on Monday morning.

He returned to the bar and came to a halt. Grace was standing beside Ray, her hands on her hips and her expression set.

Heat rushed through Lincoln at the sight of her. In a dark brown skirt and cream-colored, stretchy shirt, with a tan patterned sweater and her hair loose around her shoulders, she looked as warm and tempting as a cinnamon roll. He wanted to lick her all over before devouring her whole.

Christ. He had no idea how he was going to survive another four weeks with her. Already he was regretting his stupid lecture about not being the right guy for her. Hewasn’tfor anything long-term or romantic, but she’d said she didn’t want that anyway.

So why the hell was he having such a hard time accepting that? Yeah, he’d walk away from her, but first he sure as hell could show her what thefusswas all about.

He’d do more than that. He’d have her gasping, moaning, and begging for more. He’d make the earth move. He’d have her seeing stars and—

She turned. Her gaze collided with his. Her eyes widened for an instant before hardening into chips of ice.

Suppressing the hot fantasy, he approached her. “Evening.”

“What happened to you?”

At least she hadn’t asked where he got the shiner. “Lost a fight.”

She pressed her lips together and lifted her hand toward his face. For a heart-stopping instant, he waited for the touch of her cool fingers. Then she dropped her hand back to her side and stepped away.

“What is going on here?” She gestured to the plates and pints on the bar. “Dad tells me you two are having dinner.”

“So what’s wrong with that?”

She let out a sigh of exasperation. “Nothing, except burgers aren’t on his doctor-approved diet.”

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