Page 18 of Good Girl’s Guide to Love (Guide to Love #4)

ainsley

I wasn’t lying to Linc earlier when I said that I freeze when I’m not sure what to do. Which is why I haven’t blinked, let alone said anything, in what feels like hours, but is more like seconds.

Do something scary…

How is this the second time that phrase has been said to me tonight? And tonight of all nights. The night that my ex is back in town. The night I was already wondering why I feel like my life is in this constant state of neutral.

Do something scary…

“I don’t know,” I say, because I don’t. But also, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Yet, something in me is wanting this more than practical Ainsley wants to play it safe. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Easy,” Linc says with an easy smile. “I have the perfect starting place.”

“And what’s that?”

“You need to get out of your head.”

“Ha!” Suddenly Mia is back in the conversation. “Good luck with that. I’ve been her best friend for years, and I’ve continuously failed to accomplish that. You’re talking to the queen of overthinking.”

“You shush,” I say to Mia, who gives me a wink before returning to her conversation with Wyatt. “And you, Mr. Know It All. How do you propose that I get out of my head?”

Linc doesn’t say anything at first, just giving me a devilish smile as he leans over to the table in front of us that has an array of liquor bottles scattered on it.

He picks up one that says Fireball , and as someone who takes fire safety very seriously, I already know this isn’t a good idea. “We’re going to take a shot.”

“Oh no,” I say, remembering the last time I took shots and puked for three days. “I’m not a shot girl. Or even a drinks girl.”

“This isn’t very strong,” he says, pulling up four plastic shot glasses. “Plus, it tastes like cinnamon gum.”

Well that sounds better than the black licorice demon water. “I understand what you’re thinking, Linc. And I’m sure it would help loosen me up, but I haven’t drank since?—”

Just as I’m about to explain to Linc about my aversion to alcohol, I get an eyeful of Jonathan across the bar. Linc was right, he is staring. And not in a covert way. The man isn’t blinking. It’s unsettling.

And to think I was going to reach out to him this week because I was lonely. Maybe I need to do shots just as punishment for that moment of weakness.

But as a chill goes down my spine from Jonathan’s gaze, I can’t help but think about what he said to me before Linc saved me.

I am drinking the same mocktail. I did go to the same bar with the same friend.

I visited my family this week—twice. Jonathan’s right: I am predictable.

Boring. The only exciting things that happen to me are through my siblings.

And, most importantly—and depressing—is that I’m the same person I was when Jonathan and I broke up.

Not that I’m a bad person then or now. I love myself and who I am. But clearly that Ainsley isn’t going anywhere. She’s not dating or married. She’s not fulfilling her dream of having a family and a career. She’s not traveling or living it up.

She’s scared and waiting.

Well, not anymore.

“Frick it,” I say to try to pump myself up. “Give me the shot.”

“Excuse me!”

Mia flies from the chair she was sitting in next to Wyatt and nearly throws herself on my lap. “Did I hear what I think I just heard?”

“You did,” I say, suddenly growing confidence I didn’t know I had. “Pour me the shot, Linc.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, giving me a wink before signaling Wyatt to come over to join us.

I start to feel a little out of body as I watch Linc pour four shots into glasses, and then I feel a tug on my arm. “Are you sure? You know you don’t have to do this.”

I love Mia, and this is why she’s my best friend. She knows this is very out of the norm for me. She might be excited, but at the same time, she’d be remiss if she didn’t triple-check to make sure that an alien didn’t possess me in the last ten minutes.

“I’m more than sure,” I say, unable to stop myself from looking back at Jonathan.

Mia follows my eyes, and because she’s my work wife who knows everything about me, she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“I don’t want to be the same girl from two years ago.

And nothing changing means nothing will change. So let’s change it up.”

She smiles and brings me in for a side hug. “I like that mentality. But just one. Two, tops. You’re still Ainsley Banks, and I feel like baby steps are the best option.”

“Agreed,” I say as Linc passes the filled glasses. As soon as I have it in my hand, the strong smell of cinnamon hits my nostrils.

“Oh mylanta!” I say, shaking a bit just from the smell.

“That’s about right,” Wyatt says. “Send it! To douchebags and bad singing!”

I watch as the three of them somehow know to tap the glasses on the table before throwing them back. I don’t do that. Instead, I hold it up in front of my face, looking at it like it might grow legs and attack me.

“You can do it,” Linc says softly, his hand resting on the small of my back. “And if it helps you right now, Dr. Dipshit looks like he wants to murder me because I’m touching you. And I don’t blame him. If I fumbled you, and you moved on? I’d hate the man touching you, too.”

I look to Linc, wondering if this man is just pouring it on thick for the audience of one.

But I don’t think so. The look he’s giving me right now is…

I don’t know if I’ve ever been looked at like this.

He’s not looking at me like I’m delicate Ainsley, the nice girl who always done everything right.

The one no one would ever suggest do something that would go against my good-girl reputation.

No, he’s looking at me with…more. Fire? I don’t know why that’s the word coming to my mind right now. Probably because my body is heating from his gaze.

“I can do this,” I say.

He taps his forehead to mine. “Send it, babe.”

I smile at the use of his nickname from earlier. “Okay. Here I go. Bottoms up!”

I sling back the shot, hoping if I take it quick, I won’t taste it as much.

Unfortunately, I do.

“Snap, crackle, pop!” I yell as the shot burns down my throat. I let out a cough and shake my head a little as it settles in my stomach.

“How was it?” Mia asks.

I take in a deep breath, which has remnants of cinnamon to it. “Woo, that burned! Not too bad now, though!”

And it’s not. Actually…it was pretty good…

“And how do you feel?”

I know I can’t be drunk yet—I took the shot thirty seconds ago—but I do feel different.

Confident. A little bold. A little reckless.

A little bad .

“I feel like I want another.”

I throw back the shot because I’m a pro now, slamming it down on the table before turning to Linc. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

I don’t think I’m drunk yet, but I’m pretty darn close.

I feel loose. The room is swaying a little, but that also could be because the karaoke choices tonight are amazing, so I’ve found myself dancing more than normal.

But the biggest giveaway is that I’m holding Linc’s hand because I took it. I even put my hand on his thigh.

I’m downright scandalous.

“Everything.”

The part of the bar we’re in is dark, but I can swear that I see his cheeks turn a little red. “All I did was suggest getting drunk.”

I shake my head and move a little closer to him. “Um, was that not you who came over and saved the day?”

“Well, it was,” he says, looking away in mock humility. “But I didn’t want to rub it in.”

“Oh, rub away,” I say, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I slap my hand over it. “That didn’t come out right. And neither did that! Is drunk me a dirty talker?”

Linc laughs. “Do you not know how you act drunk?”

I shake my head. “Only got drunk once. And it was really, really bad.”

His laughter comes to a screeching stop. “That was serious? I thought you were joking!”

He puts the bottle down, but I immediately grab his arm. “No. Don’t.”

When he turns back to face me, the look of guilt is all over his face.

And maybe because I’m drunk, or maybe because I feel bad, but I lean in and kiss his cheek.

The short hairs of his beard tickle my lips.

And I think I’ve been hanging out with Mia and my sisters a little too much—and that the Fireball is kicking in—because I’m wondering how that beard would feel in other places.

Not that I know what that’s like, either. Jonathan never did that. He said it was gross.

I think he’s gross.

“Linc, listen to me.” I lean in, close enough so it looks like a couple is just having a private conversation.

“You’re the first person maybe ever who hasn’t treated me with kid gloves.

Tonight you told me to do the scary thing, and I am.

But I can’t do it without you. Because tonight I don’t want to be the good girl.

Tonight I need you to forget what I just said and treat me exactly how you have all night. Can you do that? Please.”

I do my best to plead with my eyes, but considering the room is starting to spin a bit, I’m not sure how that’s going. He must get it, though, because he nods and adds a kiss to my forehead for good measure.

Oh, this guy is a great fake boyfriend…

“What can I do to help?”

I smile and lean over, grabbing the bottle of Fireball.

“How about another shot?”

“Linc! Dance with me!”

At some point after the fifth shot, I decided that mocktails weren’t enough. Also, why didn’t anyone tell me that vodka cranberries were delicious? They basically taste like my cranberry with lime but with bonus fun!

My hips are swaying, and my drink is in the air. I’m getting lost in the beat, because bless the heart of the singer who decided to sing a classic R&B song, when I feel Linc’s hands on each of my hips.

“How about I just stand here and make sure you don’t fall?”

I shake my head, and good thing he’s holding me, because I stumble a bit as I turn around. Luckily, I don’t spill my drink.

Look at me go. I’m even wearing wedge sandals. I feel like this is some sort of accomplishment.