Lincoln_The Manning Dragons

by Kathi S. Barton

  “You’re so domestic. I miss that about you.” Her sister laughed and told her she could be too. “No way. I don’t like people. I called to see if you’re still going to make it tonight. You’re my rock.”

  “I am. I have the best sitter ever keeping an eye on the children, and I have this dress that is going to make you jealous.” She hadn’t told her sister that she’d had a makeover and felt foolish in her own. “All of the Mannings are coming too. You’re going to be overwhelmed, all right. Just don’t hit any of them.”

  “I don’t hit people right off the bat.” She laughed with Ginger. “I’ve warned Garrett we’re twins and it’s difficult to tell us apart. Hopefully everyone will think you’re the artist and leave me alone.”

  “And what would I say if they were to ask about a piece? Nothing. I wouldn’t even know what to tell them about the kind of paint you use. Besides, you’ll be just fine.” Ginger told her to hang on. “I had to switch boobs.”

  “You don’t need to tell me that.” She did though, and it was great that her sister was so happy. “I’ve hired this guy to take care of my work. Though I don’t think there was ever a doubt to him that he was. He seems to think that I’m the best thing since sliced bread. And that’s what he said to me. And he’s a tiger.”

  “Yes, I know that. The men here, they have all kinds of paranormals coming in and out all the time. I’m getting good at telling the difference. Oh, and I took on another client. I’ll be doing Lincoln’s books now too. I’m having so much fun.” She told her only she would have fun with numbers. “They sing their song to me. And you should know how that is. You tell me all the time how your muse seems to call to you. Does he still zone you out when you paint, like he did all the time?”

  “Yeah, I’m weird like that.” She saw Garrett pulling her paintings out to the floor. “I have to go and see what he’s about. I gave him the last of twelve to put out for tonight. I think I’ll be bringing them when I come see you.”

  She wanted to bring her sister home with her, to her house, but she didn’t have that anymore. As soon as she told her landlord she was going away for an extended period, he told her that he was selling the house and she might as well move out. It was very abrupt, but she knew it was coming. He was ninety-two and had no one to help him with rentals anymore.

  “I had to sell, honey. I loved you being here all the time, but I’m falling more and more, and I can’t be doing that and living by myself. I got into one of the assisted living places. They’ll even do my clothes for me. Imagine that, why don’t you, somebody to wash my undies.” They laughed. “I’ll give you back your deposit, and you can take your time moving out. I’m sorry.”

  She and Ginger talked about this and that when they were on the phone nowadays. It was comforting because Ginger was so calm. They talked mostly about the children, who Grace was excited to see. Mattie had been just a wee thing the last time she’d seen her, and now there was a little boy. Ginger deserved so much better than the ass that had taken her.

  “I have to go, sweetie. We need to get dressed up, and I should do that now while Wendall and Mattie are asleep. I’ll see you tonight and you’ll be coming with us.” She said that she hoped she could find a place to live. “You will. You can live with us. We’ll have good times again.”

  After hanging up, she went to the office to see what was left. Really, it was to hide out. She really wasn’t very good with people. They made her freeze up. She thought that was why she painted, just to escape the world.

  Last night, it had taken her an hour tossing and turning to realize she wasn’t going to sleep. So instead of continuing down that futile path, she got up and pulled out her things. The hotel she was staying at, thanks to Garrett, said she could paint in her room but would be responsible for any damage done to it. Garrett had put down a large deposit and told her that he’d pay for any damages. To paint when the mood struck her was something she couldn’t do without. It, like her sister and her children, calmed her in ways she couldn’t explain. Last night’s painting had been the best she thought she’d ever done.

  For some reason the idea of a large castle had come to her. Not the pretty kind with turrets with flags and flowers at the front. This one was dark and full of secrets that only the ghosts that lived there were aware of. And they were going to keep out everyone that tried to come to the big stack of stone. As she painted, seeing it in her mind’s eye, she got more information on the inhabitants there, and was glad for the lights when the darkness of the place started to make itself known to her.

  Death was all over it. It had been in a siege and many lives were lost. The king had killed his wife, to save her from certain death that would not be easy on the delicate lady. Then he’d thrown himself out the window, sure that it would be preferable than the one the new king would have for him. There were other stories like that one, but she loved rather than hated them.

  Part of the castle wasn’t coming to her, but she was all right with that. Instead of trying to make it, she just painted something else on it. The broken gates, the large stones at intervals around the place. There were other things that had fallen into disrepair, but she had a feeling the castle and its surroundings were going to be something that would haunt her forever. Like the unfinished part of the castle, something was blocking her from seeing it all.

  When she stepped back from it when her alarm went off to get up, she was amazed at the detail. But then she was like that with each of her paintings. But in this one, this was calling to her in a different way. Like she had the unfinished business, not the castle. Cleaning up, she noticed something that she hadn’t before. The makings of a dragon that seemed to be flying over the castle, the part that she’d not finished. Seemingly protecting it from whatever was coming for it. Or her.

  “What is wrong with you?” she had asked herself. “It’s a painting, not a fortune teller. Get a grip, dumbass.”

  And now here she sat, wanting to work on it, but knowing that for now it was as finished as she could make it. Until…whatever was needed for her to do was ready. Laughing to herself, she decided to return to the hotel anyway and get dressed. Tonight was going to be huge for her, and she’d get to see her sister.

  Taking a second shower, Grace pulled her hair into a ponytail and then braided it. After wrapping it with a rubber band, she coiled it around her head, mostly to keep it out of her face. Then she pulled her dress on. Black, Garrett had told her— to show how important she was. Instead she felt foolish. She never wore dresses at all, and this was strange.

  It was more of a sheath, she supposed. There wasn’t any kind of nipping at the waist. The only part that was tight was around her breasts. And there was a slit up the side that showed off her entire leg and most of her thigh. She wasn’t thrilled about that, but it was the only dress they had in her size that was black. She was going to have to do some serious shopping if she had to do this very often. Grace did not like showing off more than she saw in her mirror every day.

  Chapter 2

  Lincoln was getting dressed when his brother contacted him. Tristan was having trouble with his tux and wondered if Lincoln could please help him. He asked what the problem was. Tristan said he was coming over.

  The doorbell rang just a few minutes later, which told him that his brother had been on his way. As soon as he opened the door, he could see what was wrong. He had no idea how to make his tie work. Pulling him into the hallway, Lincoln had him set in seconds. His butler, Milton, met them at the front door with their capes. They were going all out on this thing, it appeared.

  “I don’t want to be a caped crusader.” Milton simply cleared his throat, standing there holding them out as if he’d not said a word. “You do know that you work for me, not the other way around?”

  “Lady Carson said if you gave me any trouble, I was to call her. This is the sister to one of our own, she said I was to tell you, and you were to behave, or she’d make you hurt.” He looked at them. “She is scary when she
wants something, is she not?”

  “She is at that. So is Winnie. And she’s the one that would make me hurt in ways I don’t even want to think about.” They all laughed as Lincoln and Tristan pulled on the capes. He had to admit, they did make a striking pair. Tristan continued speaking as they headed out. “I’ve been talking to Ginger about her sister, and I just know she’s my mate. She’s going to have me for dinner. I don’t do well with aggressive women.”

  “You’ll do fine. It’s funny, Xavier and I have been saying the same thing about her being mated to one of us.” Tristan told him Lucas was bored with the whole thing of finding a mate. “Is he now? Then I hope its him. He deserves to be with the ball buster.”

  “Who’s a ball buster?” The limo had pulled up as he was saying that, and Carson had, of course, heard him. “You mean me? Then I thank you. I love that I can stand my own ground. And I’m glad to see that you didn’t give poor Milton any trouble about the capes. He’s a nice man to put up with you.”

  “You are one, but we were referring to Grace.” Ginger laughed then, and he smiled at the pretty woman. “She is going to bust our balls, isn’t she?”

  “Oh yes, you can bet on it. And I hope one of you are going to be her mate. It would be perfect for her to have someone like you guys in her corner.” He asked what she meant. “For all her ball busting, as you called it, Grace is more tender than I am. She just hides it better with violence and mayhem. I don’t know if she still does it or not, but when she was drawing when were kids, she’d sob after she was finished, because it was the last one, she would tell me. And she had some trouble with a few people she worked with at the plant. I don’t know all of it, but she’s been hurt before. They don’t like having a woman boss.”

  “What does she do there? We have the distribution plant here. Perhaps she can shed some light on smaller issues we’ve been having.” Ginger told Cooper she’d find it. “Good. Even though it’s running now, there are still points we could use help on.”

  “Grace was the manager of the entire place. And she did a great job too. They were having some major shrink issues and she found them and cut them out. They’re down to less than one percent now where they had been at eighteen.” Carson asked what had happened with the trouble that she’d had. “I don’t know. She’s very private, even with me. But I know that she gave notice about a month ago. I don’t know what went down, but she’s less stressed about everything now. She told me today she’ll need to find a place to live around here. I’m hoping that means she’s going to stay. I’ve missed her.”

  Lincoln could understand that. He saw his brothers every day and didn’t know what it would be like to have one so far away. Even if they were only in the next state, he’d reach out, talk through his day with them. And if he didn’t, they would him. It was what they had always done, be there for each other.

  They were pulling up in front of the gallery when he realized they were going to be spending the night in town, and he had no place arranged. Oh well. And he’d have to go shopping as soon as possible to get something to wear home. Either that, or he’d be the butt end of every joke they could manage from wearing his tux home when they all had jeans and T-shirts, he’d bet.

  The first thing he saw when he entered was the art on the main wall, and it blew him away. The painting was called Evening Train. He loved how the locomotive seemed to jump right off the canvas at him. Almost as if he should move out of the way or be run down. But the subtleties were what got him. The man standing on the tracks as the train came at him. The happy face of the person in the front cab, who hadn’t noticed the other man. There was a stream of smoke coming out the top that made him think of how fast it seemed to be going. There was a sad feeling about it, and he wondered if that was what she’d meant to do.

  Lincoln looked in the direction Ginger was when she said her sister was there. He couldn’t see her yet, but he could feel his dragon stirring. Looking around for whatever was making him nervous, he started toward them when he saw Garrett. It was him that was in trouble; not really, but he was nervous about something. Lincoln didn’t know why yet, but he went to see if he could help him.

  “What do you think of the artist?” He told Garrett he’d not met her yet. “She’s going to flip out when the night is over. She has it in her head that nothing is going to sell. But I have a feeling she’s going to have people begging for more of her work.”

  “Speaking of which, I want the train one in the front.” He told him that it was sold. “Damn. That is a wonderful painting. It says a great deal, doesn’t it?”

  “I didn’t get it until she showed me. The man on the tracks? I never saw it. Nor the other things on the painting.” He asked if he meant the note in his hands. “Yes, as you can well imagine, I felt foolish. But like you, I fell in love with it. To be honest, Lincoln, she wasn’t going to let me show it. I had to almost beg her to release the others in the room. It has me a little nervous, if you want the truth. I think she’s going to outgrow me before this thing even starts to make either of us some serious money.”

  They wandered around the gallery, pointing out which were sold and the ones he thought would go next. He loved the train though, that was his favorite, but the woman had talent, he could see that.

  Ginger was coming toward them when he saw the woman. Christ, she was a dream, which was weird to say considering she and Ginger were twins. And to say that she looked like Ginger would have been an understatement. They were identical. Even their dresses, one blue, the other black, made them seem more alike. He moved toward her when Ginger said his name.

  “Lincoln, I’d like you to meet my sister, Grace. Grace, this is the man I was telling you about, Lincoln Manning, who opened the greenhouse marketplace.” He heard her talking, Ginger was, but he only had eyes for Grace. And he knew as soon as he touched her what she was to him.

  “You’re holding me too tight.” When he let her go, Grace glared. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Surely, you’ve seen a woman before tonight. And I would think you’d know not to manhandle them.”

  “I’ve never seen a woman like you.” He knew he was messing this up and tried to regroup. “I’m terribly sorry. It’s been a long week, and I still have the weekend to go through. The greenhouse has been taking up a great deal of my time. If you could forgive me, we can start again. I’m Lincoln Manning. And yes, I know better than to manhandle women.”

  He looked for someone to get him out of this mess before he screwed up more. He needed someone to rescue him from himself. But Grace was called away and he let out a long breath. But he’d forgotten about Ginger, who was currently staring at him like he was a freak show.

  “She belongs to you, doesn’t she?” Lincoln told her that saying it like that to Grace might not go over well. “No, not with her it wouldn’t. I’m happy for you, I really am, but she’s not going to come easy. You are aware of that, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I don’t know what to tell her either. I mean, she doesn’t strike me to be anything like you in how well you took what we were.” She laughed and told him he was in big trouble. “Yes, I think you might be right on that. Please don’t say anything to anyone just yet. I don’t want her to find out from them before I can talk to her.”

  “I can do that. But she’s far from stupid, and she knows what you are. Not all of it, but that you’re all dragons.” He nodded and thanked her for that. “Don’t thank me yet. I love Grace, she’s all I had in the world for a long time. Then when Maddie came along, we sort of drifted apart. But when I was having trouble with Walton, she wasn’t just there for me, but gave me money I’m sure she didn’t have to help me get away. Then he tried to kill us.”

  “I’ll be careful with her. Do you think she’ll do the same for me?” Ginger just laughed as she walked away. “I’m so fucked right now.”

  He moved around the gallery again, this time looking for a painting that didn’t have a blue sticker on the name. It looked as if she was having a good show if t
hose were any indication. Lincoln found Grace in one of the back rooms staring at a painting entitled simply Mine.

  “This one is dark too. Are all your paintings that way with a secondary meaning?” She glanced at him, then back at the painting. He wasn’t even sure if she was going to answer, but she finally did.

  “I live in a dark place when I paint. Most of the time, when I need to step back from them, I’m amazed at what I’ve done. I sort of zone out.” He stood closer to get a better look at the canvas and see if he could touch her. “I’m painting one now, in my hotel room, that looks like I’m going to be in trouble before it’s finished.”

  “Why would you say that?” Lincoln wanted to know how to protect her. How to make the painting be one of happiness instead of the dark he knew was going to be there. “Is someone threatening you?”

  “Not at the moment. I might be soon, but not right now.” She looked at him. “I got this burst of magic when we touched. It kind of freaked me out. Then when I was helping with the painting that this guy just had to have, I realized what it meant.” He waited, not wanting her to know just yet, not until he was ready and wanting her to know so they could talk about it. Lincoln had never been so indecisive before. So, he changed the subject.

  “I own this piece of land. It’s a lot of acreage, but I’m happy with it. There were some things left in the house. Not a great many things—I’m guessing they were things they couldn’t take when the house was emptied.” Grace asked how many acres he had. “With the house, just over sixteen hundred. It’s a lot. The second house, it came with a hundred, which we didn’t know until the surveyor came out to do the job. There are also some buildings. A big metal one that someone took the time to mostly insulate and never used that I could see or smell. A regular barn, made of wood, that has the most amazing features to it. A water wheel that supplies the corn mill inside of it. Also, some of the land is rented by farmers who pay each year to have extras planted for their farms. I had no problem with it, so we’re going to keep doing that.”