And then here comes this new guy, stepping in like it was no big deal…

“You all right there, Mathis?” Cole asked. “Kiwi’s bow fall out or something?”

“Yeah, fine,” he said, turning his head at the sound of a car engine.

Lincoln leaned back slightly, looking out the window that faced the main house. He expected to see Daisy’s car leaving, but instead it was another car arriving. And not Whitney’s red Mustang. A silver sedan.

“So how’s Daisy?” Penelope asked.

He looked back at the screen. “She’s good. Great, actually. Couldn’t ask for a better host.”

“Well, duh, she’s Emma’s twin. Of course she’s going to be awesome. You guys are getting along?”

Lincoln’s eyes narrowed at the too-casual tone. “Did Emma ask you to find out if Daisy and I were sleeping together?”

“No,” Cole answered for Pen. “But Cassidy did.”

Lincoln swore softly, and tried not to think about the hotter-than-hot sex dream. “We’re not. We’re friends. I’m nowhere near being in a relationship place right now, and she’s…”

“She’s…?”

“Going on a date later this week,” Lincoln said, glancing again toward the window in time to see a tall, stocky man get out of the car.

“How do we feel about that?” Cole asked.

“We feel damn good about it. Maybe even a little proud, since I’m the one who helped her get the guy’s number.”

“Dang,” Penelope muttered. “Somehow I don’t think that you playing matchmaker for Daisy and some dude in a bar is how Emma and Cassidy saw this thing going.”

“Well, that’s the way it is going, so they better get used to it.”

Hell, Lincoln was trying to get used to it. He told himself that it had been a fun challenge on Saturday night, telling a woman how to get a man instead of telling men how to get a woman. He’d even considered that it could be a fun spin on an article, and made a note to pitch Cassidy and Camille, the editor in chief of Stiletto, on a sort of role-reversal piece.

The writer in Lincoln had felt a surge of satisfaction when he’d seen a laughing Daisy take the man’s iPhone and enter her phone number.

The man in him had felt something hot and primal about the way the other guy’s gaze had lingered on Daisy’s bare back as she’d walked away.

He glanced again toward the window. Daisy had come out of the house, meeting the guy halfway to his car. They were talking, but it didn’t seem to be a good conversation. Lincoln could see only their profiles, but both expressions were angry, the man’s arms waving wildly.

It had to be her ex-husband. Lincoln would put money on it.

His eyes narrowed as Daisy tensed and took a step back.

“Guys, I’ll call you back,” Lincoln said. “Sorry.”

He disconnected the Skype call in the middle of their good-byes and pushed the chair back, going to the window to keep an eye on Daisy.

She was still angry. He could see it in the tense line of her mouth, the way she crossed her arms, but there was something else too. Something…

The man’s arm lifted, still waving wildly, and the guy’s shouting was loud enough so that Lincoln could hear the anger, if not the words.

The man shouted something, and stepped toward Daisy, and then Lincoln saw it.

Saw her fear.

Daisy flinched, raising both arms in front of her face as though to protect herself.

As though to protect herself.

Motherfucker. That was the missing piece of Daisy’s story. She hadn’t just had a bad divorce. The guy hadn’t just cheated on her.

He’d hit her.

Lincoln knew it with every fiber in his being. It explained the sometimes haunted look in Daisy’s eyes and the way she seemed always ready to run if someone—especially a man—touched her too long.

It probably also explained why the bastard had left Daisy with a huge house, two Mercedeses, and a hefty alimony check.

Hush money. He was trying to keep her quiet about the real reason they weren’t together anymore.

Because he’d hit her. This Gary bastard had hit Lincoln’s beautiful, funny, kind Daisy.

The thought filled Lincoln with a fury he’d never felt before, white and hot and pure.

Before he could think better of it, he’d opened the door to the guesthouse and was striding toward Daisy and her ex.

Chapter 21

One second Daisy was braced for the all-too-familiar pain of Gary’s fist against her cheek, and the next, her ex was flying back into the perfectly groomed, hideous hedges he’d always wanted.

“You fucking son of a bitch.”

Daisy’s eyes widened as she registered what she was seeing. What had just happened.

Lincoln’s hand grabbed the front of Gary’s dress shirt, hauling him to his feet only to send him sprawling backward again with another fist to the face.

“What the fuck?” Gary lifted a hand to his face, then pulled it away and stared in horror at the blood there. “You broke my fucking nose.”

“You deserve a hell of a lot more than that broken.”

Lincoln’s hand fisted again, but Daisy leapt forward, grabbing his arm, cupping his fist in her palms.

He snarled, lifted his hand as though to shake her off, but then he looked down. He swore softly, closing his eyes and breathing in through his nose, as though forcibly trying to calm himself.