Swing (Landry Family 2)

“This was nothing like that,” I point out. “There was no fumbling, no searching for my clit. Lincoln knew exactly what he was doing.” I sigh dreamily. I can’t help it. “I mean, it was the most spontaneous, carnal thing I’ve done in a long time.”

“So, details! Fork ’em over, Danielle.”

“Lincoln asked me to dinner and I said no. Then he wanted to go play catch and I couldn’t think of a reason not to meet Lincoln—”

“You do realize you’ve said his name like five times in this conversation, right?”

“I have not!”

“You have too!” She smacks her lips together. “You’re there, that point where you just want to say his name in a sentence.”

“That’s not true.”

“That is so, so true,” she laughs. “It’s cute, actually.”

I think about that. If it is true, how am I going to feel when this high wears off? I can’t get in over my head here, and I’m aware just how easy that is to do. It’s how I do everything, really. I move fast and hard. My therapist told me when I was younger that I wanted someone to love me because I felt neglected by my parents. That I needed someone to protect me from them, not physically, but emotionally. I don’t think that’s true. I don’t search out friendships or relationships. Do I want to connect with someone? Absolutely. But do I bend over backwards for it? No. Still, when I commit, when I go down that rabbit hole, I spiral into the darkness with no parachute. There’s no way I’d survive Lincoln Landry.

“So . . . details!” Macie insists. I fill her in on all the things I can make myself say out loud, much to her amusement. “I knew he’d know what he was doing, you lucky duck.”

Blowing out a breath, I find myself settling a little. “You know what the scary part is?”

“What’s that?”

“That he’s fun to talk to,” I admit. “He doesn’t take himself too seriously and asks questions and seems to care about what I say. He’s . . . dangerous to my health,” I laugh.

“I think he’s perfect for your health. You deserve to have fun, Danielle. Lincoln Landry seems like the answer to your problems.”

“Or more problems,” I sigh. Already, I want to see him again. I want to hear his voice and smell his cologne and hear him laugh. I want to feel his touch and make him smile and that . . . Is. Not. Good.

“You still here?” Macie asks.

“Yeah, I’m here.” I chew on a snagged fingernail. “What’s happening with you today?”

She pauses, like she’s trying to figure out whether to steer me back to the topic at hand or let me change it. Thankfully, she rolls with me. “Not much. Will is training tonight. They got a new guy in named Pike from somewhere in the South. His accent though,” she whistles. “Anyway, he’s just training for a few weeks. They think he’s going to be something, I guess. It’s all I hear about right now.”

“Better than baseball.”

“Truth,” she laughs. “So, what are your plans for Thanksgiving?”

I shrug. “Probably the same as always.”

“Want to come to Boston? Julia and I are fixing dinner, and we always make way too much.”

“Nah. Thanks, though.”

“Did you think about the job? You know, at the foundation with Julia?”

“Honestly, I haven’t really given it much thought. Is this a time sensitive thing?”

“I don’t think so. She’s just getting her ducks in a row.”

“Okay, well, let me see what happens at the budget meetings and go from there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she yawns. “I’m going to grab a shower and go to bed. Call me later.”

“I will.”

“Bye.”