Page 62 of Carry On

Rule number seven: use emotional maturity to communicate. No fucking fighting. No using him as a punching bag.

But fighting is the only thing you’re good at,the voice commented, beating against the already throbbing pain in my skull.

I bit my tongue—bit back saying something stupid. Fuck, I wanted to fight him.

“Now that I have your attention,” he said softly. “I know you hate the idea of me giving you a phone, but it’s a necessity.”

“I’ve lived years without a goddamn phone,” I replied, doing my best not to chew his head off. “A phone’s expensive.”

“Society runs on technology.”

“I refuse to be shackled by the expectations of people who don’t matter.” I had enough going on in my head. I didn’t need the added pressure that came from the nonsense of strangers.

“While I understand that, the world runs on communications,” he told me. “I need both my personal and my work phone while I’m gone during the day. I’d like to know that I can get in touch with you if I need to.”

Why the fuck would he need to get in touch with me?

He wouldn’t,the voice said.

“You don’t need to,” I insisted.

“I know,” Lincoln replied. “But I want to. And how do you expect to talk to doctors if you don’t have a phone?”

His brow arched as if daring me to challenge his line of thinking. I just glared back at him. Lincoln fucking Cassidy: the man with a cocky attitude problem. He had me there, and I knew it.

“I don’tfucking like it.”

“Of course you don’t, but I did get you the most basic phone on the planet. They tried hard to upsell me on something nicer.”

“You already bought it?” I asked.

“I did.” He nodded slowly. As he spoke, he opened a drawer, pulling out a phone and all its accessories. “I have to go back to work. I have your paperwork to start the process of adding you to my insurance. If I need anything else from you, I can call you.”

The grin he gave me was ridiculously sarcastic and all too attractive.

“You’re a smartass, you know that?” I muttered.

“It’s one of my better qualities,” he assured me. “Your job is to set up your phone today. The guy at the store wrote your number on the box. I added my work phone, my personal phone, and my office.”

“That’s fucking overkill, don’t you think?” I retorted.

“That’s called being thorough.”

Of course it was.

CHAPTER 44

LINCOLN

Did you figure out your phone?

NASH: No. I’m a heathen with no technical skills.

Then how are you texting me?

NASH: Is that what I’m doing?

Difficult. Your middle name is Difficult.