Page 26 of Good Girl’s Guide to Love (Guide to Love #4)

ainsley

Did I just say that? Did those words really come out of my mouth?

I think they did. I heard them.

Linc was right, I must still be drunk.

I’ve never asked a guy out—fake or real. Well, I did once in third grade when I asked Tommy Hatcher to be my boyfriend. He told me he’d let me know after recess.

I’m still waiting.

But even though he never gave me my answer, that one time was enough for me to realize that putting yourself out there is scary and that I never wanted to do it again. And I haven’t. Until now.

“You sure about this?” Linc asks, his green eyes giving away how conflicted he feels right now.

“I am,” I say, trying to be as confident as I can be. “I mean, we probably need to come up with some logistics. A backstory. And maybe I should know your middle name. Things like that. But yeah. I’m sure about this.”

He laughs. “My middle name?”

“I don’t know? It feels like something people in a relationship would know about each other. Mine is Mae.”

“Ainsley Mae? How Southern are you?”

“Very,” I say, leaning into my faint drawl a little harder.

“We moved to Rolling Hills when I was at toddler. But before that my family lived in Georgia. Every member of my family for generations has gone to the University of Tennessee. I only went to Vanderbilt because of the nursing program. But just wait until you meet my mother. The only thing stronger than her drawl is her sweet tea.”

Linc lets out a huff of a laugh as he shakes his head. “At this time yesterday I was planning for a day of never leaving my house. Twenty-four hours later I’m in a conversation about meeting the mother of my fake girlfriend.”

I can’t keep the smile off my face. “So we’re doing this?”

Again, who am I? Why am I the one insisting on this? Am I that starved for a relationship that I’ll take even a fake one? Do I need a buffer that much from Jonathan that I’m willing to become a part-time actress to make it happen? I must be. That’s the only explanation I can think of.

Or at least, the only one I’m willing to admit to myself.

Linc looks at me, his eyes softer than they’ve been since Katie barged in here. “I’m not going to lie; this would help me. A lot. This is a really big season for me, and anything I can get to help me both on and off the field, I’d be a fool to send away.”

“I’m happy to help.”

He shakes his head, taking his hands in mine and pinning me with his stare. I barely known this man, but I’ve already learned so much about him through his eyes. They’re so expressive, and I don’t even know if he realizes they possess that power.

“I know you are, because you’re a good person.

I barely know you, and I know that much,” he says.

“But this is going to be a lot for you, Ainsley. I’m not the biggest star on the team, but I’ve starred in a lot of negative headlines over the years, so the gossip rags know I’m an easy target.

And all of them were my fault. I’m not known for the best choices, and trouble seems to find me, even if I try and distance myself from it.

But I’m trying to become a better person.

A better man. And if you did this…I don’t know how I could ever repay you. ”

The sincerity in his tone right now is hitting me straight in my heart.

How can I not help him? “Linc, I don’t know if this is too much, too soon, but I’m going to be honest with you.

I was in a weird place mentally before last night.

I was lonely. Depressed. So much so that I actually considered calling Jonathan. ”

Well, that gets his attention. “Is that why he showed up?”

I quickly shake my head. “No. I didn’t call. But when he appeared, it threw me. At first, I thought that it might be a sign. That if I thought about him, and then all of a sudden he’s back, maybe it was a signal we should work it out.”

“Ainsley, I don’t care if you’re struck by lightning, never get back with that idiot.”

That makes me laugh. “I know that. Well, now. It was just…I know my mental state going into last night. If he would’ve showed up, and you weren’t there… I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

I watch as Linc’s jaw ticks, which…why is that so attractive? I know last night that he was playing up the protective role when Jonathan was around. But seeing it today? When it’s just us? Oh, sweet baby Jesus…

“Well, then, that settles it,” Linc says, popping up from the couch and holding out his hand. “Yes, Ainsley Mae. I’ll be your fake boyfriend.”

I can’t keep the smile off my face as I stand up quickly—maybe a little too quickly as I wobble, suddenly lightheaded because that breakfast sandwich Linc ordered for me went untouched.

“Whoa,” he says, grabbing my arms just hard enough to steady me. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just need some food.”

“I know the perfect spot,” he says. “Come on, girlfriend. Let’s get a real hangover breakfast.”

“Here we go, Linc. One garbage omelet. And one avocado toast and fruit cup for the lovely lady.”

“Thanks, Mel,” I say, grabbing the bottle of hot sauce as Ainsley stares at my omelet, eyes so big they should be falling out of her head.

“Have you never seen a garbage omelet?”

She shakes her head at Mel’s question, which makes the seventy-plus-year-old Greek man chuckle. “I didn’t think any portion of food could be so big.”

“That’s why it’s a garbage omelet. Just a bunch of things thrown together. Cleans out the fridge. Garbage.”

“That makes sense,” she says, twisting her head to get another angle. “But did you clean out an industrial one?”

“Oh, I like her,” Mel says. “Even if she only ordered toast.”

I immediately open my mouth to apologize—because I really did want to try an omelet but my stomach rebelled at the thought—before Linc put his hand on my forearm to stop me. “Quit giving my girlfriend shit, Mel. She’ll eat what she wants.”

“Girlfriend?” he says. “You’ve been coming into this place every Saturday for six months and not once did you tell me you had a lady! Why’ve you been hiding her? Is it because she only eats toast?”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Toast is just a today thing. I promise when he brings me back next week I’ll try an omelet.”

Mel nods and gives me a wink. “I’ll hold you to it. You two enjoy.”

I laugh as Mel winds through the small dining area of his hole-in-the-wall restaurant back to the kitchen. “He’s a delight.”

“He’s something,” Linc says. “I hope you don’t mind that I told him that you’re my girlfriend. He’s one that I felt safe to try it out on who wouldn’t think I was full of shit, but also at the same time, if he didn’t believe me, he’d call me out.”

I shake my head as I pick up the slice of sourdough piled with bright green mashed avocado. “Not at all.”

“Good. But is it scary how easily it rolled off my tongue?”

“You had practice last night,” I say. “Now it’s just a continuation.”

“True. That, and the looks we got this morning probably helped.”

I’ve never done a walk of shame in my life. I’ve heard about them from Quinn and Stella. Maeve likely did them in her time, but she’s never shared the stories. But since I never slept with any guys in college, there was no shame to be had.

But this morning, as I walked out of Linc’s apartment building wearing the same rolled-up pair of gym shorts and oversized T-shirt he gave me earlier, I had a taste of what my sisters were talking about.

Though they were just regretting decisions they made the night before, I was getting stared at by the people in his building and even received a few side-eye glances and whispers as we walked the few blocks to Painter’s Alley and then around the block to this hidden gem of a diner.

Linc was right. He’s a celebrity in the sense that people know who he is, but not enough that paparazzi were waiting outside of his building. But still, it was unsettling knowing that people now know who I am, just by association.

“So—”

“Do—”

Our words come out at the same time, and our moment of awkwardness is followed by laughter.

“Why is this so weird?” I ask.

“Probably because ‘how do we fake date’ isn’t a conversation you have every day?”

He has a point there. I’m also very glad we’re the only ones here. I already don’t know how to act around Linc, so having to have this talk, while not having to deal with people staring, is a blessing.

“I mean, I’ve never had it,” I say as I take a sip of my orange juice.

“I’ll take you one further,” he says. “I’ve never had any kind of relationship talk. Ever.”

Now that does surprise me. “You’ve never been in a relationship?”

He shakes his head. “I wasn’t kidding when I told you that I’m not the forever guy, Ainsley. I have baggage. Scars. A past full of bad decisions that I’m paying for every day. I never wanted a relationship then—I was too selfish and busy burning my life down.”

“And now?”

His eyes turn sad. “And now I don’t want to burden anyone while I work through my demons.

Playing for the Fury, this is my last chance at a career.

I’m twenty-eight, which is middle-aged in football years.

If I can put together a season to remember, then maybe I bought myself a few more.

But if I can’t get out of my own way—which is the story of my life, mind you—I’m done.

And there’s no backup plan. So I told myself no distractions this year. ”

Well, now I feel bad. Did I really force this on him? I’m not forceful. Am I?

“And then I came along…”

He smiles through the pain and reaches over the table, grabbing my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m glad we’re doing this.

The more I think about it, the more it makes sense.

All I’m saying is that there’s never been a time in my life when I’ve thought about being a boyfriend, fake or otherwise, so to say I’m out of my depth is an understatement. ”