She closed her eyes, hating the voices inside that told her—even if they were right—that she didn’t deserve a love story.
Not, at least, with a leading man like Lincoln.
God’s mercies were new every morning. Except for girls like her.
CHAPTER 15
HE WAS HAVING A Lincoln Cash the Invincible day. He’d started naming his days. Some were weak days, when the fatigue or numbness or dizziness or even his own fears crawled over him. Those were the days he drove the four-wheeler, which he kept parked near the house, down to the work site to direct traffic or over to the corral to watch Stefanie, who spent more and more of her time here, training the animals she’d talked him into buying. She’d showed him how to teach a horse to join up—that miraculous moment when a horse knows you’re his friend and will bond with you, follow you everywhere.
He wasn’t sure who had joined up with whom, but he had begun to believe that he, too, might follow Stefanie anywhere. He had imagined her smile on him when he’d marched into Pastor Pike’s house and told him not to even consider Gideon a suspect.
The North kids weren’t the only ones who’d started to feel like they’d finally found a home in Phillips. Until the crumpled Hollywood insider report, Lincoln hadn’t given a thought to the tabloids or his agent or even his upcoming movie premiere of Unshackled. Dex had left a cryptic message on his voice mail a few days ago mentioning the event, but Lincoln still had a month before he had to make an appearance—however brief.
It felt light-years away.
Which, hopefully, was where Gina the stalker was also. He’d spent roughly three days on the phone with Delia and his other representatives, tracking down Gina and her whereabouts. According to a local PI he’d used a few times, Gina had vanished shortly after she’d walked out of the county jail after serving her time. Which meant she could be anywhere . . . including Phillips, Montana.
Perfect.
Lincoln was trying to forget about Gina and her threats, however, at least for the moment, and focus now on choosing between a springer-spaniel mix and a fuzzy-looking thing he might call a sheepdog. Around him, in the Sheridan pound, dogs of all sizes barked at him, each one fighting for attention, some jumping up and pawing at their cage doors, others simply staring at him with eyes that begged him to take them home. One basset hound lay on the floor, looking up at him with what resembled tears filling his eyes.
Thanks to Stefanie’s influence, Lincoln felt despicable for not adopting the entire lot.
He picked the sheepdog and waited while the pound managers cleaned him and updated the animal on shots and papers. The dog—he had to still be a puppy for his friskiness and the way he licked Lincoln’s face and neck—had big brown eyes and brown and white stringy fur, not unlike a mop. Lincoln also bought a cage and put the dog inside with about a year’s supply of biscuits. He secured the cage beside him on the truck seat.
Lincoln hoped bringing Stefanie a new dog less than a week after her other dog had died wasn’t excessive. But he couldn’t help it. It seemed that lately everything inside him wanted to make Stefanie smile.
He was a man living on borrowed time. Any moment, this happiness could burst and rain down pain. And he knew this because he had never felt so free, so hopeful . . . so himself.
He’d tucked Lewis Carter so far into the past, mostly because of the memories, but also because Lewis had been the person inside who had wanted a home and a dog and maybe a wife and someday a family. And Lewis came storming right out of hiding when Stefanie looked his way.
Sometimes Lincoln caught himself wondering what it might be like to let her inside his life—really inside, to look at all his weaknesses and even the ugly future before him. But maybe also to wake up to her smile and someday have kids, if the doctors said it would be okay, each one of them with dark hair and matching dark eyes and a smile that could light up his universe.
He put his fingers through the cage, and the dog licked them. “I sure hope she likes you.”
The Buckle was quiet when he pulled up, the sun sinking behind the log house. He got out of the truck, leaving the door open, and breathed in the cool near-summer air, smelling the life blooming from the prairie grass, the blossoming hills. He knew that Nick and Cole St. John, with whom Nick ran the Silver Buckle, had held a roundup two weeks ago, so most of the cattle were on a faraway pasture. Still, two large bulls lounged in the field behind the house.
Climbing back into the truck, Lincoln opened the cage and released the squirming dog. He’d also purchased a collar and a leash, which he put on the puppy before letting him down to sniff.
He was negotiating the porch steps when he heard laughter spilling out from the front door. It sounded like Stefanie and perhaps Piper.
“Are you saying you’re falling for him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. What’s not to love?” Stefanie’s voice, full of just enough honesty, stopped Lincoln on the porch. He could barely hear above the sudden rushing of his heartbeat.
“You can’t be serious,” Nick said. “Aside from the fact that you aren’t leaving the ranch and that he’ll someday return to his life in Hollywood, he’s not a Christian, is he? That thought alone should make you put on the brakes.”
Lincoln wasn’t a Christian? He thought he was a Christian—hadn’t he gone to church when he was a kid? That counted, didn’t it? Nick’s words made him bristle.
“I’m not sure he isn’t a Christian. A man doesn’t act like he did at church without having something between him and God, even if it might be fractured.”
Thank you, Stefanie.
Only, her words made Lincoln squirm. He hadn’t exactly turned around to confront the feelings Pastor Pike’s words had stirred up: “If we let our situation define us instead of lead us to God, then there is no victory.”
Frankly, considering the source made it that much easier for Lincoln to push the words into the dark recesses of his mind. But even more than that . . . the words frightened him. Because if God was using Lincoln’s circumstances to mold him, he just might fold.
“But don’t panic,” Stefanie was saying. “I’m not saying I love him. I just . . . really like him.”
Lincoln looked down at the dog, who had chosen now to piddle on the porch, guilt raking over him for eavesdropping. But he couldn’t seem to move, yearning to know . . .
“I’ve never seen you this happy. I don’t want you to get hurt again—especially if he doesn’t turn out to be the guy you’re hoping for.”
Please, let her say that he was her type. That he was exactly the guy she was hoping for. That he’d proven something to her. . . .
And what did Piper mean by the words get hurt again?
Did this have anything to do with the mysterious something Stefanie had mentioned but never elaborated on, the something that had her swinging like Babe Ruth?
Of course, the tattler on the other end of the leash barked, just as Lincoln would have given his right leg or maybe his new pickup to discover Stefanie’s answer.
But suddenly it didn’t matter because when Stefanie opened the door, those beautiful eyes grew wide, and her hands covered her mouth. She looked up at Lincoln even as she crouched. “Who is this?”
“He’s your new dog if you want him.”
As if the animal had already confirmed the answer, he leaped into Stefanie’s arms. She giggled—a sound that went right to the center of Lincoln’s body and warmed him clear through. She carried him into the kitchen, grinning.
Feet pounded down the stairs, and in a moment, Macey had the dog in her arms, laughing as he licked her face. The puppy’s entire body wriggled with joy, his tail moving so fast that it caught Haley, who had come down the stairs with Macey, in the face, and even as she blinked, she laughed.
Then the dog turned to Haley and launched. Haley went down, giggling, petting, closing her eyes as the animal bathed her ears, her cheeks, her eyes. “Stop! Stop!” she said.
The entire room went still. Piper and
Stefanie gasped, and even Nick didn’t move.
Haley lay on the floor, still giggling, the dog now over her, licking her ear.
Macey wore a look of triumph and grinned at Stefanie. “See, I told you she could talk.”
Haley didn’t seem to notice that everyone was staring at her, wearing funny faces. She wrapped her arms around the dog and buried her face in the animal’s fur.
Stefanie stood and took Lincoln’s hand. “What’s his name?”
“Bill? You know, sorta because it was a guy named Cash who found him?”
“Bill,” she repeated, and something sweet entered her eyes. “I like it.” She looked at him, and he knew her words before she spoke them. “You did good, Superhero.”
In that moment, he knew for sure that today could only be called a Lincoln Cash the Invincible day.
“I’m not saying I love him. I just . . . really like him.”
Those words throbbed in Stefanie’s mind as she wrapped her arms around Lincoln’s waist and let him drive them over the hills of the Big K. She thought he’d want to explore his land on horseback, but sitting behind him on the four-wheeler made her feel modern and fun, the air in her hair, the motor drowning out words. Not that she needed to talk. Probably she shouldn’t.
Lincoln had bought a dog for her yesterday. An adorable dog with brown eyes and curly fur and the tendency to want to sit in her lap and lick her hands. She’d never had such a crazy, extravagant, thoughtful gift in all her life.
Not that men were in the habit of giving her gifts, but . . . a dog.
It had made her wish she’d told him exactly what had been on her mind the night he’d split his gorgeous chin open. That she’d been so utterly wrong about him. He wasn’t at all like Doug Carlisle, the man who had made her believe in her foolish eighteen-year-old heart that he’d loved her, that he wanted to marry her. That she should give him her body as well as her heart.
Sometimes she still saw Doug on commercials for his family’s car dealership branches, paunchier but still dazzling with his blue-eyed, golden-haired, local-boy-turns-star glory.
But his radiance didn’t have a prayer of brilliance next to Lincoln’s supernova shine. Which had Stefanie scared to death. Despite the gift of Bill the dog. If her heart didn’t watch out, it would fall right out of her chest and into Lincoln’s strong arms.
But before she did that—or hopefully before her feelings moved one more inch in the direction of no return—she planned on getting to the bottom of his relationship, or lack thereof, with God. Nick was right: she had no business falling for a guy who didn’t share her beliefs. But she couldn’t get past the sense that deep inside, Lincoln longed for redemption—and just didn’t know how to ask. If she could, she wanted to help him ask.
With the picnic lunch strapped behind her on the four-wheeler, the day had all the makings of romance—in the wind-stirred cirrus clouds, the way the grass greened under the grooming of the sun, the hint of summer in the fragrance of lupine and primrose in the air. The Big K seemed lonely without the cattle, and she noted a couple of fences—especially the ones that bordered Silver Buckle property—that needed mending. Lincoln drove her through gullies and ravines and even over a small jump. A thrill of fear tornadoed in her stomach.
Not unlike the one in her heart. What on earth was she doing?
They finally stopped at the top of Cutter’s Rock, right where it connected to Silver Buckle land. From this vantage point, she could look west to the Bighorn Mountains, or east, where the parallel tire tracks headed toward the homesteaded Noble house. She got off, staring at her land as Lincoln untied the picnic basket.
“My great-grandfather first lived in a house just over that hill,” she said, pointing. “An old log cabin.”
Lincoln set the basket down and pulled out a blanket. “When I looked at a map of the property, I saw that this place might overlook your property.” He peered over the edge of the ridge into the canyon below. “Good thing Dex never saw this. He’d turn it into one of his classic Dex Ditch and Roll escapes.”
“What’s that?” She grabbed the end of the blanket and helped him lay it out. “Is it painful?”
“Yes, very.” When he grinned at her, she felt another swirl in her stomach. “Dex does it in all his movies—I have to jump out of a moving vehicle. Mostly you just launch off, roll, and land in the padding the stunt guys put out.”
“Is that how you were nearly killed in your last movie?”
The look he gave her was immediately shrouded with something unfamiliar and scary. “How did you know about that?”
Stefanie felt a blush press her face and didn’t answer, making a note to self to dispose of any magazines before she invited him to the Silver Buckle. Apparently her brain had already invited him inside her life. She fingered the edge of the blanket. “I have a confession to make.”
Lincoln looked downright magnificent today in a cream-colored shirt rolled up at the sleeves and a pair of faded jeans and boots. He even wore a cowboy hat over all that blond hair. It seemed a crime for a man to be that handsome. What kind of fairy tale had she landed in?
“Yes?” he asked, kneeling on the blanket and opening the basket.
“I’ve seen only one Lincoln Cash movie.”
“Only one?” He wore the strangest smile, one side quirked up, as if this amused him.
“We don’t have any movie theaters around here, so . . .”
He laughed, taking out a cellophane-wrapped sub sandwich. “What kind of movies do you like?”
She shrugged. “Romance. Chick flicks.”
He handed her a sandwich. “I’ve never been in a chick flick. I tend to do movies that are pure adrenaline. Which means that once you’ve seen one Lincoln Cash movie, you’ve seen them all. There’re bad guys and lots of explosions, and I always manage to save the girl.”
“There’s nothing wrong with saving the girl.” She smiled. “Besides, I’m sure your movies are great. Maybe you can loan me a DVD. Or better yet, we could try out your new media room.”
His smile fell as he pulled out two cans of Diet Coke. “Remember, I don’t watch my own movies.”
Until now, she hadn’t been sure if he had been kidding or not. “Really? I don’t understand why not.”
Lincoln made a face as if he’d eaten something sour. “I know too much about them to . . . I just don’t like it.”
“That’s crazy. All your hard work and you don’t watch them?”
“Nope.” He held his soda as if contemplating opening it, then put it down and sat beside her.
She opened hers. “Then here’s to us watching one together.”
He didn’t smile but simply leaned over and kissed her. “Maybe.”
Stefanie opened her sandwich. “Karen made these?”
“Yep. I let her have the day off.”
“You’re lucky that someone would move all the way here from LA to cook for you.”
He took a bite of his sandwich. “I found her here—or at least my assistant did. She just showed up looking for a job. I figured she was a local.”
“Never seen her before. But I’m sure word leaked that the legendary Lincoln Cash needed help.”
Lincoln didn’t smile at this, as if she’d somehow hurt him.
“How’s Alyssa?”
Lincoln hadn’t said anything about his young former neighbor since the night he told Stefanie about the accident, and now the way his head came up and a pained look entered his eyes, she wished—or almost wished—that she hadn’t mentioned it.
Finally he sighed and nodded. “Better, I guess. Only, I think the medicine has made her a bit catatonic.” He shook his head. “I should go see her, but . . .” He looked out toward the horizon. “I’m not that strong.”
“You’re one of the strongest guys I know,” Stefanie said, realizing that she meant it. And she knew strong men. Her brother Rafe rode bulls for a living, and Nick, like their father, had bullheaded written all over him, from his backbone to his
attitude. But Lincoln was strong in a different but just as important way—in his determination and his kindness toward Gideon and the horses and in his thoughtfulness and even his dreams for his ranch.
Lincoln sighed. “Actually . . . there’s probably something you should know about me.”
“It’s about church, isn’t it?”
He looked at her, confusion streaking through his eyes.
“When you walked out.” His broken expression had been bothering her since that day.
He pursed his lips. “You know, in case you were wondering, I do consider myself a Christian. I went to church when I was a kid. I even got baptized. Maybe I’ve strayed now and then over the years, but I’ve always tried to do good things. Doesn’t that count?”
Stefanie’s mind traced back to Nick’s words. She didn’t mean to make him feel uncomfortable. . . . Well, maybe she did. “It looked like you had something between you and God . . . and if you want, I’ll listen.”
He considered her a moment. Then he put down his sandwich and wiped his hands, his mouth. “Okay, here’s the deal. I asked God for something a long, long time ago.” He picked up his unopened soda can. “And He didn’t answer.”
“And you haven’t asked Him for anything since.”
Lincoln tapped the soda on the blanket. “That pastor’s sermon, about God disciplining us like He would a son, it just . . . I don’t want to talk about it.”
Stefanie saw him then, a kid like he’d described, afraid and thin and knocked around by his stepfather, and everything inside her ached. Didn’t men know that the way they treated their sons and daughters forever imprinted on them a picture of God, good or bad? It made her profoundly glad to have grown up with a father who loved God and lived it out as best he could.
“Besides, you can only ask God for something so many times before you realize He’s not going to give it.”
Finding Stefanie Page 19