CHAPTER 7 JOLENE

The second the words are out of my mouth, I regret them.

Mostly because I don't want to think about any of the pussy Lincoln must get. The thought of him being with some other woman actually tears at my soul a little.

But I can't take it back, and he turns to his tablet rather than dignifying me with a response.

I turn toward the window rather than toward him. When I face him, I get little whiffs of bergamot every so often, and it causes more harm than good.

I should be working. It was my plan all along, and if nothing else, I should be interviewing Lincoln or something. But he's busy doing his own thing, and I should be too.

Still…his leg brushes mine when he shifts.

His arm is planted firmly on that middle armrest as he asserts his dominance, and when he lifts it to reach down to rub his knee, I claim it myself.

That's just us now. A nonverbal fight over something as insignificant as a plane armrest.

At least once we land, we can go our separate ways to our own hotels and the only time I'll need to see him again is at the commencement address tomorrow morning.

Then it's one more night in Ohio before I head back to Vegas.

Not that it's any safer there. We're a few weeks out from the organized team activities, many of which I'll need to cover. It's four weeks of that with the charity ball capping the end, and then a month later, we're back for training camp and the official kickoff of the new season.

It's going to be a whole lot of Lincoln Nash over the next year, and if he proves himself, likely beyond that.

Coaches can come and go at any time. No one is safe, and if Lincoln doesn't keep up the winning culture here in Vegas, he'll be on the chopping block no matter how tight he and Jack become over the next year.

A part of me hopes he doesn't make the cut. I want him out of my town.

But the other part of me wants him to succeed with everything I have inside. Not just because I love the Aces and they're my home team, but—and it's hard to admit this even to myself—because this is Lincoln. Despite the sordid history between us, deep down I still care about him. Deep down I still want him to succeed.

Even though I hate him.

It's confusing.

We spend the flight ignoring each other, but I can't ignore the way he smells. I can't ignore the heat I feel coming off him. I can't ignore the way my stomach flips knowing he's so close to me.

But he's still so, so far.

When the plane lands, he grabs his suitcase out of the overhead and bolts, which is probably for the best. I take my time and get my suitcase down with the help of a flight attendant, and I reserve a Lyft close by. I spot Lincoln as a chauffeur ushers him toward a limo, and they take off toward whatever hotel he's staying in.

My own ride shows up a few minutes later, and my driver confirms my destination—the hotel closest to where the graduation ceremony is taking place.

And when we get there, the lobby is absolute madness.

Graduation is tomorrow, and the line to check in is at least thirty people deep. I'm not shocked when I spot Lincoln in line only a few spots ahead of me, but if he sees me, he pretends he doesn't. It makes sense he'd be staying here since it's so close to the stadium, but I'm sort of surprised he doesn't get some VIP check-in service given his importance.

I'm sure he is, too.

The person in front of him in line seems to recognize him, and they strike up a conversation.

I, on the other hand, am just a lowly reporter, and nobody here even knows me.

I can't help but study Lincoln's profile when he shifts just a bit in the line. Once upon a time, he was mine.

And now…this. We're three people away from each other and ignoring the other's presence.

It's sad where we've landed. I wish things could be different, but I know they can't.

The line moves quickly, and I watch as Lincoln walks up to check in. The three in front of me are apparently sharing a room, and they get called up next. The agent beside Lincoln opens up, and she calls me up.

"Jolene Bailey checking in," I say, and I hand over my license and credit card.

She taps away at her keyboard, and I feel his gaze on my profile. I finally turn and look at him. "What?"

He raises his brows and shakes his head with a bit of a smirk as if to say he had a feeling I'd end up in the same place as him.

Yeah, well. Me too.

I blow out a breath and return my attention to my agent.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Bailey, but it looks like we don't have a room for you."

"I'm sorry? Maybe it's under my boss's name since his secretary booked it. Marcus Dean?"

She shakes her head. "No, your reservation is in here, but your boss booked via our quick book option which is sort of like standby for hotels. We're overbooked this weekend, so I don't have anything available. You can try the Hilton down the street, but this late in the game, I can assure you everything nearby is sold out."

"Are you kidding me?" I ask. "What am I supposed to do?"

"We have a sister hotel about thirty minutes away if you'd like me to check if they have any availability."

I blow out a frustrated breath. "Fine. Sure."

She gets on the phone and says some things, and when she's done, she glances up and me and makes an apologetic face. I know it's coming before she says the words. "I'm so sorry, but they're sold out, too."

"What else is nearby?"

"You can look into an AirBNB maybe?" she suggests.

I pull out my phone to start looking up somewhere, anywhere where I can get a bed tonight.

"I'm so sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to get out of line so I can check in our next guest," she says. She's friendly enough, but that doesn't mean her words don't piss me the fuck off.

"Are you kidding me?" I practically roar at her. "You screwed me over and now you're asking me to get out of your line? I'm not moving until I have a room!"

"She can stay with me," a voice beside me says.

I freeze, and then I slowly turn toward the voice, my eyes about to fall out of my head. "What?"

"I've got a suite. We know each other. It's fine." He turns back toward his agent. "I'll take another key."

"Lincoln, we can't—"

He holds up a hand to cut me off. "I know it's a terrible idea, but there aren't any rooms available anywhere. Mine is comped because of my role in the ceremony, so just…stay with me. It'll give me a good critic to practice my speech on anyway."

I laugh. "Oh, I can definitely be a good critic. Are you sure?"

"Don't ask again or I'm rescinding the offer." He raises his brows pointedly.

"I don't want to be in your debt."

"You won't. You're covering this story. It's just a place to sleep, okay?" He shrugs.

I nod. "Thank you."

We head up to his suite, and we find a nice corner room with a wraparound window…but I'm not sure why it's called a suite other than the window. It's a regular hotel room—a little on the small side, actually, and it has only one bed, a small desk with a rolling chair, and a sitting chair in the corner.

That's it.

No couch—not even a comfy chair to try to sleep in.

I stare at the bed as I try to come up with something to say. "Lincoln, I—"

He shakes his head. "This is strictly business, Jolene. I don't want this any more than you do."

"Then why'd you offer it?"

He shrugs. "You were yelling at that poor agent, and I felt bad for her."

I purse my lips and offer a glare.

He chuckles. "Let's just make the best of it, okay? I have work to do." He grabs his tablet and sits on the bed. He shifts the pillows until he gets them just how he wants them, kicks off his shoes, and swings his legs up onto the bed. He leans against the pillows and taps away on his tablet.

I sigh, and then I get my own laptop out and sit at the desk to get some work done myself after firing off a text to Marcus to let him know I didn't get a room but Nash invited me to stay with him.

This is going to be a long, hard weekend where I fight against my feelings even more than I have been since he was hired.

With only one bed.