Page 22 of Good Girl’s Guide to Love (Guide to Love #4)

I let my head fall into my arms as Linc chuckles. “Here. Try and eat something. Let the grease soak up the booze.”

I look up to see the ham, egg, and cheese sandwich on a bagel that I requested when he said that he was ordering breakfast delivery, along with the large, crispy Coke I asked for. I’m usually not a huge caffeine person, but today, it’s warranted.

Also, as I sit here in Linc’s kitchen, at his island, wearing a T-shirt and shorts he gave to me so I’m not still in my dress from last night, I hereby do declare that I’m never, and I mean never, drinking again.

“I’m mortified,” I say.

“Don’t be. Dr. Dipshit stormed away in the middle of your song. Which was rude, if you ask me. I guess he was just jealous that you were singing to me and not him.”

The embarrassment I feel on my face isn’t going away with Linc’s teasing words. “I was singing to you?”

“Dedicated it to me and everything,” he says as he unwraps a monstrosity of a sandwich that I can’t even begin to imagine what’s on it.

I didn’t know breakfast sandwiches even came in that size.

“You pointed to me and swerved your hips. It was quite the show. Any farther and I would’ve had to tell the bar to avert their eyes. ”

I slam my head down again, my arms catching it before I hit the breakfast counter. “How does this keep getting worse?”

“Don’t say that,” Linc says as I feel his hand on my forearm. “It wasn’t that bad. You were the bar’s favorite performer after that. Probably something to do with the surprising rasp you have in your voice.”

I pick my head up just enough to see if Linc’s messing with me. “A rasp? Who do I think I am?”

“A true karaoke pro,” Linc teases. “And I haven’t even told you about our duet to ‘Hey Mickey!’”

Now this makes me sit straight up. “We did what ?”

I hate that song. Years of competition dance make you cringe anytime you hear a select few songs. That one is a top absolutely-not for me. How drunk was I?

Apparently the panic on my face is enough to make Linc break out in laughter. “Gotcha.”

Excuse me? “Gotcha? You mean?—”

He shakes his head. “We didn’t. But good to know you would’ve believed it.”

I sit up straight, needing Linc to rip off the rest of my humiliating Band-Aid. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

He shakes his head and sets down his sandwich.

“Pretty soon after your red-light performance, you started to get sloppy. Which is what happens when you down probably four shots of Fireball straight from the bottle after quite a few drinks already. We knew it was time to go. And it was the right call, because you passed out in the ride share before we even got you here.”

Okay, that’s not too bad. “Thank you. So much.”

He waves me off like it wasn’t that big of a deal, even though it very much was. “You’re my lady…what kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of you?”

His sentiment warms my body, but I need to temper it down. The key word in that sentence is fake. He was pretending to be my boyfriend last night to help get Jonathan away from me. Today is a new day. Today he’s just a guy I hung out with at a bar and…

“Oh my God, we kissed! Like a lot!”

Devilish. That’s the only word I can think of to describe the smile on Linc’s face right now. It’s just at one corner of his mouth. A mouth I apparently mauled last night, if my hazy memory serves me right.

“We did,” he says. “Actually, you kissed me a few times. The highlight of my night.”

Panic now starts racing through me. Embarrassing myself is one thing. Getting drunk is another. But kissing a guy in public—a guy who’s personal life gets posted on the internet more than most—is something that I never, and I mean never, thought I’d have to deal with.

Especially with a raging headache. How much Advil does a girl need to take to make it stop?

I feel myself starting to breath heavier, but I start to calm the second I feel Linc’s hand on the small of my back. His touch isn’t much, just his thumb slowly rubbing up and down, is enough to do the trick.

“Hey,” he says, leaning in close so his words are quiet.

Comforting. Gone is the flirty smirk. Gone are the teasing eyes.

No, right now is just Linc, the man who stepped in last night when he didn’t have to.

The man who I knew I could trust when I knew nothing about him beyond his immense kindness to a special little boy.

“I know this is a little insane. And so was last night. I don’t want to tell you how to feel, so I’m not going to tell you to not be embarrassed, but please know, last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a very long time. And it’s all because of you.”

I want to believe that’s a line. But I don’t know…there’s something in his look that’s telling me he’s serious.

“But, we should probably go over what comes next,” he says with a soberness to his tone. “I’d bet my contract there are going to be pictures. Jonathan caused a few scenes last night, and frankly, so did we. And, I’m not sure if you know this, but I have a certain reputation.”

“I’ve heard a thing of two,” I say, trying to play it off without coming across like I was some sort of crazy internet stalker. I’m not. That’s my sister Stella. “So what do we do?”

“I’ll handle it,” he says. “I pay people a lot of money to make sure things like this are handled appropriately. If pictures do come out, and depending on what the headlines are, we’ll handle them as they come in.”

“Do you think the whole boyfriend-slash-girlfriend thing is going to be a thing?” I ask.

He just shrugs. “Probably. But I’m not a fan of thinking about things that haven’t happened yet. Waste of brain space. I prefer to only think about it when I have to.”

That makes me laugh. “Oh, we are very different people, Linc Kincaid.”

We share a smile, and just as I’m about to take a bite of my sandwich, I hear a phone starting to buzz somewhere nearby.

“That’s you,” he says, getting up and taking it off the charger. Wait…did he plug my phone in for me last night? He must’ve. That is so…thoughtful. “Says it’s from ‘The Siblings?’”

“Oh no,” I say, snatching my phone and sliding the messages open. “Don’t worry about gossip blogs or leaked pictures. I have a feeling what we really need to worry about is this group chat…”

Quinn

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK AINSLEY.

Stella

I was JUST about to send the same text. What the hell were you doing out with Linc Kincaid? And he’s your boyfriend? When the hell did that happen? Wait! Did he ask you out after the hospital visit?

Maeve

Were you drinking? Ainsley Mae!

Simon

Can we go back to the part where Ainsley is dating Linc Kincaid? What the fuck happened between you not knowing his name and being his squeeze?

Quinn

Fuck Linc. Wait…did you *fuck* Linc?

Maeve

Jesus Christ Quinn…

Quinn

I’m just saying. She was drunk enough to sing karaoke; she could’ve been drunk enough to have sex with the man she’s apparently dating. Also, side note, I need to know what songs you sang more than I need an iced coffee.

Stella

Please for the love of God tell us everything. Right now.

“Well, according to my siblings, you’re my boyfriend,” I say, pushing the phone aside. I know I need to straighten things out with them, but I can’t right now. I don’t have the energy for their antics. Not before this hangover has subsided.

“Okay then,” he says. “Maybe we do need to come up with a plan.”

We fall silent again, I assume both thinking of our next steps, but that doesn’t last long. Linc’s apartment door slams open, then shut, the sound echoing off the walls.

“Lincoln Kincaid! Where the hell are you, and what the fuck did you get into last night? And when did you get a girlfriend!”

“Fuck,” he groans, letting his head fall back as he pinches between his eyes.

My eyes are wide as I look back toward the sound of stomping heels clicking furiously down his hallway. I can’t see who it is yet, but it’s clearly a woman. And she’s clearly mad.

“Linc! Is that…do you have…Oh mylanta! Am I a fake mistress?”

He shakes his head. “No. Worse. She’s my publicist.”