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Ray jerked his thumb at Lincoln. “He’s paying.”
“I don’t care who’s paying. You shouldn’t be eating a bacon burger.”
“He hasn’t had one in months,” Lincoln put in. He might have felt bad about lying to her if he’d been able to think past the fog descending over his brain. Aside from being unable to take his eyes off her, the memory of how she’dfeltin his arms returned with a vengeance.
“That isn’t the point,” Grace said.
“Ray, I forgot to put your usual fried onions on the burger.” Rory approached with a plate piled high with fried onions. “Here they are on the side. Lemme grab you a refill.”
She picked up his glass and went to the taps to refill it. “You want any cheese curds tonight?”
“No, I’m good.” Ray slanted his daughter a wary look. “Thanks.”
With a nod, Rory set the glass back on the bar before walking away.
“Months, hmm?” Grace folded her arms. “Look, whatever you two are up to, you should not be disobeying your doctor’s orders. And you—” she swiveled and pointed an accusatory finger at Lincoln, “—should know better than to encourage him.”
Lincoln and Ray exchanged a look that silently agreed it wasn’t a good time to tell Grace about the boxing.
“Okay.” She held up her hands. “Dad, I’m glad you’re getting out of your apartment, but please take care of your health so I don’t have to worry. I’m going to get back to my dinner.”
She swiveled on her heel and started across the room. Lincoln hitched himself back onto the barstool.
“Like I said…” Ray loaded onions onto his burger. “Salad for the rest of the week.”
A tall guy with blond hair had stopped Grace with a hand on her arm.
Tension shot down Lincoln’s spine. They were talking as if they knew each other, and the guy was standing way too fucking close to her.
“He’s a vet.” Ray spoke around a mouthful of fried onions.
“What?”
“I hear his nickname is Captain America.” Ray nodded toward the other man. “Max something-or-the-other. Vet who takes care of Grace’s cat. Or did. Sounds like he’s trying to help find her. Seems like a real good guy.”
Lincoln stabbed a fork into a pickle. “What…are they friends?”
“I guess.” Ray ate a French fry and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Friendly, at least. Really friendly.”
Lincoln narrowed his gaze. The guy—Max—was looking right at Grace as he spoke. At her eyes, not at all the other tempting parts of her body that Lincoln couldn’t help noticing.
Her sweater was fastened with only one button. He imagined flicking that button open to reveal the curves of her breasts under her tight-fitting shirt…
Grace laughed at something Max said. She actually tilted her head back and shook her hair, which fell like a fiery waterfall down her back.
Seriously? And she’d told Lincoln that theopportunity never came up? If she’d done that hair-shaking move before—and he’d bet that she had—any man would be at her feet.
But apparently she’d been waiting for the “right lightning.”
Lincoln bolted away from the bar and crossed the room. As if sensing his approach, Max turned before he was halfway there.
“So she tried to…” Grace’s voice died.
“Lincoln Atwood.” He thrust his hand at the other man. The vet had about an inch on him in height, but Lincoln was bigger. The Captain America thing pissed him off, though.
“I heard you were in town.” Max shook his hand. “Good to meet you. I readRevolutionafter it won the Booker Prize last year. Powerful story.”
Shit.Too much to hope that the guy hadn’t read a book sinceGo, Dog, Go?
