“Okay, it smells like my first piña colada in here,” I say, scrunching up my nose as I slide into the passenger seat and inspect the car. “I took you for more of a woodsy-scent kinda man.”

He playfully glares at me. “My mom gives my car fresheners to me, and what the hell is wrong with piña colada? You get in my car, and it’s like a mini vacation to the Caribbean.”

“Nothing is wrong with piña coladas … if you’re a fifteen-year-old girl getting her first drink on spring break.” There’s no holding back my smile.

This.

This is why I love hanging out with Lincoln.

As soon as I saw him, my thoughts weren’t stuck on hating community service, or losing my future, or my crazy-ass ex. His presence eases my mind and soul.

There’s no better company than this man.

“Keep insulting my air freshener taste, and my treat for lunch will be a cup of water and three french fries.”

“Fine,” I groan. “For the sake of my stomach, I shall stay quiet … for now. Once I’m fed, I can’t make any promises.” Shifting to grab the seat belt, I buckle up. “Where to?”

“Anything you’re in the mood for?”

I spent my morning picking up trash, cigarette butts, and a few used condoms—who the fuck tosses condoms on the side of the road?—so I’m in need of a reward, like a nice steak and lobster.

But as great as that sounds, I’m not a brat who expects people to buy her expensive meals, so I say, “Surprise me.”

Anchor Ridge is a small town, known for its local restaurants, shops, and bars. With the exception of Burger King, McDonald’s, and Starbucks, there aren’t many chains. My choices are limited, and since I haven’t ventured out much, I don’t have an answer that doesn’t involve an Egg McMuffin.

Lincoln nods. “I got you.”

I’m updated on Georgia and Archer’s love situation while he drives out of Anchor Ridge and along the outskirts of town, closer to the city. He flicks his turn signal and cuts the wheel into the parking lot of a quaint yellow home that’s been converted into a restaurant. A bright pink-and-yellow sign reads, Yellow Peep.

“Have you been here before?”

I shake my head. “Nope.” I’ve heard of it, and it’s definitely no McDonald’s. In alarm, I glance down, inspecting myself, and tug at the hem of my sweatshirt. “I don’t think I’m okay to go into a place like this.”

He scratches his cheek. “I’m not catching your drift.”

I throw my hand down, gesturing to my homely appearance. “Uh, I look like someone who was picking up trash on the side of the road. Literally.”