The Isaac Project

by Sarah Monzon

  What a change from the girl so dead set against liking horses that first day.

  But what about Luke? I smacked my head with the palm of my hand and groaned. How could I have forgotten to ask him if he liked horses? Especially since he was about to come live on a ranch.

  14

  Luke

  IT WAS A good thing I wasn’t claustrophobic, because my Jeep resembled a clown car. Except instead of being stuffed with crazily clad people wearing oversized shoes and bright-colored wigs, it was filled with every earthly possession I couldn’t live without or buy when I reached California. The down side, besides being incredibly cramped, was I couldn’t see out of any of the windows except my own and the windshield. Not exactly the safest way to travel halfway across the country.

  “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” I urged the vehicle in front of me. Okay, so I wasn’t the epitome of patience, but it was a long drive, and I didn’t want to be stuck behind this slowpoke.

  I drove westbound along I-80 and had, up until that point, made pretty good progress. But now I was stuck behind Mr. Ed and his family, staring at a horse’s rump in a trailer and crawling along the interstate at fifty-five miles per hour. This guy was in the left lane, and a semi occupied the right, so there was no possible way to pass. My verbal encouragement did nothing to speed Mr. Ed’s driver along or relieve my agitation. Surprisingly, the semi pulled ahead first. I switched lanes to pass and finally continued my trip at a rate other than a snail’s pace.

  My phone’s GPS said the trip would take just under thirty-one hours, but if I’d had to travel behind that truck the whole time, it would have taken at least twice that long. Although I would have loved to take my time and see some of the interesting things in the states I was traveling through, I knew Becky was anxious that I get there as quickly as possible. And I admit that my own excitement was growing the closer I got.

  Having driven nearly two days and fifteen hundred miles along I-80, I felt like celebrating when I finally came to my exit and the next leg of this long trip. Turning off onto US-93, I still had roughly another five hundred miles to go. I’d hoped to make it into town in a decent-enough hour to meet Becky that night, but it didn’t look like I would make that deadline.

  My phone rested in the cup holder to my right, and I reached to grab it. Tapping on Becky’s name in my contact list and then putting the call on speaker, I let the phone rest on my thigh so I could keep both hands on the wheel. I preferred not to use my cell phone in the car, having been called to the scene of too many accidents caused by texting and driving, but there wasn’t a good place to pull off.

  The sound of ringing rose, and I glanced down at the screen. The call went straight to voice mail.

  “Hey, Becky, it’s Luke. I just got off I-80 and will be getting into town late tonight. I’ll stop by a hotel and meet you at your place sometime tomorrow morning. Call and let me know if that doesn’t work for you. Otherwise, I’ll see you then.”

  ***

  Rebekah

  I groaned. Luke would arrive in the morning, and that left me with two options. I could wake up super early to get all the morning chores done and still have enough time to take a shower and put on something a little more attractive than barn clothes, or I could go about my regular routine and risk the chance of being dressed in ripped jeans and possibly having hay in my hair for our first meeting.

  With the two options laid out before me, my mind went into hyperdrive, arguing for both sides with equal ferocity. The second option was my usual look, and if he did go through with the plan and marry me, he’d need to get used to that. Still, I didn’t want to give him any reasons to turn around and head back to Michigan. Why not look my best? However, the more logical part of me reasoned that he should see what he was getting into—who I was on a day-to-day basis.

  I closed my eyes and sighed, my shoulders slumping. I had to be myself and go about my regular routine. I argued with myself that it would’ve been okay to put on some nice clothes and do my makeup and hair. I mean, if I were going on a date I would try my hardest to look nice and make a good first impression. But the reality was that nothing about this situation was normal, and this was much more than a date. I needed him to see me for who I was and to make his decision based on the facts.

  The decision made, I turned down the covers and crawled into bed. I tried to turn off my mind and fall asleep. If only it were as easy as flipping a switch.

  Mittens curled up on the pillow beside me and flicked her fluffy tail across my face. Sputtering against the hair in my mouth, I tucked her tail under her and gave her long soft fur a few strokes, eliciting a satisfied purr from the feline. My eyes grew heavy, and I finally fell asleep.

  Morning came with it a bundle of nerves.

  I stuck to my guns and put on an only slightly stained pair of jeans and a green John Deere tank top. As far as work clothes went, they were some of my nicer ones. As I strode toward the barn in the crisp morning air, I determined I would try to at least remain as clean as I possibly could.

  The water sprayed from the hose and sloshed into the trough as I cast a furtive look over my shoulder toward the driveway. What time was Luke going to show up? My stomach was starting to jostle around more than a novice rider on a bucking bronco. The splash of water spilling over the edge of the large metal tub, soaking the top of my muck boots, yanked my attention back to the task at hand. I turned the water off and grabbed the handles of a nearby wheelbarrow. Maybe if I hurried, I could get everything finished before he arrived.

  I measured out the extra feed for the horses that needed a few more pounds put on them and balanced the buckets on the handles of the wheelbarrow. Tossing in a square bale of hay in the bed, I pushed the one-wheeled lifesaver toward the pasture.

  Daisy poked her head over the fence, and I reached up to scratch her along the white blaze between her eyes. She nudged her nose against my chest and sniffed around to see if I had any hidden treats on me. Lady barked from where she was laying in the shade under the tree, alerting me to a vehicle coming up the drive before I could hear the crunch of tires on the gravel. As I turned, Daisy let out a huge sneeze, and I found myself covered in wet, dirty horsey mucus.

  Just great.

  I didn’t have time to run into the house. I had no other option than to meet Luke looking like a human Kleenex.

  You wanted him to see the real you. This is your own fault, Rebekah.

  Dipping my arms into the water trough, I rinsed off as much of the goopy mess as I could and wiped my hands and forearms against my pant legs.

  Perfect. Now my shirt has gunk all over it, my arms and hands are damp from trough water, and my pants are streaked from their experience as a hand towel. So much for staying clean. So much for first impressions.

  Walking to the parked Jeep and the man stepping out of the vehicle, I pasted on a smile and wished I’d decided to look my nicest instead of a cowhand hobo. But there was no turning back now.

  Lady had run ahead to meet our guest, who was now standing next to his Jeep. He looked even better than his picture had portrayed, especially since he was bending down, both hands scratching behind my dog’s ears.

  What I wouldn’t have done for a clean shirt and a hairbrush right then. My hand itched to reach up and check to make sure there weren’t any flyaways from my ponytail making me look like Medusa, but I stifled the urge. It would finish off my horrendous look anyway.

  Luke straightened, a hand still on top of Lady’s head. I sucked in a quick breath, and my stomach took flight as if it were one of the birds Lady loved to chase around the ranch.

  Goodness, he’s gorgeous.

  His dimple winked at me behind a measure of black stubble that ran along his jaw and halfway up his cheeks. His eyes sparkled against bronzed skin that told of hours spent in the outdoors.

  I licked my lips and tried to add moisture to a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. “Glad you made it safely,” I said as I approached.

  If my hands were
dry and my shirt clean, I would’ve had to decide on some sort of gesture of greeting. Shake hands? Quick hug? Instead, I stood there awkwardly without even my dog to hide behind.

  Luke grinned and looked completely at ease. “I’m glad to finally be out of that suitcase on wheels. It was a long drive.”

  I glanced to the parked Jeep beside him. It was packed to almost overflowing. I cringed at how much this man must have given up for me.

  Stay on task, Becky. I cleared my throat. “Why don’t I show you around the place? Then, if you’re hungry, I’ll take a quick shower, and we can go to the diner for an early lunch.”

  “Sounds good to me. I could use a break from sitting.”

  Lady bounded ahead as our official tour guide but was soon distracted by a squirrel spiraling up a nearby oak.

  As we reached the pasture fence, Luke placed a sneaker-clad foot on the bottom rung. My eyes trailed the length of him. Nike running shoes, jeans, and an untucked white button-up shirt. The sleeves were rolled, exposing muscular forearms, and the top button was undone and had aviator glasses hooked to the fabric. Okay, so he wasn’t the quintessential cowboy. He was missing the boots, the Wranglers, and the Stetson. But as he looked at me with one side of his mouth quirked in a grin and slate-blue eyes that rivaled a stormy day on the Pacific, I couldn’t remember why any of those things were important.

  I pinched myself on the leg to get my mind back on track. “In this pasture we have Samson, Dakota, Daisy, and Miracle.”

  Luke’s laugh was hearty beside me. “I don’t think I need to ask which is Samson.”

  I grinned and put two fingers in my mouth, blowing a shrill whistle. Samson perked up from where he was grazing, his ears turned forward and his head high. He still held himself with regality from his short stint as a racehorse. He trotted over to us, nickering and tossing his head.

  “Good boy.” I patted his shoulder and stroked the length of his neck.

  “Impressive.” Luke’s voice held a note of awe.

  “He is rather remarkable, isn’t he?” I didn’t even try to hide my motherly pride for the equine.

  “Him too.”

  Luke was looking down at me. Heat rose to my cheeks. He thought I was remarkable? Really? Ducking my head, we continued to the barn for the remainder of the introductions.

  Mittens weaved in and out in a figure eight between Luke’s legs as he stood in front of Artie’s stall. The tabby meowed for attention and pressed her body against his shins. I scooped her up and tucked her under my arm.

  “This is Mittens.” Nodding toward the stall, I added, “And that is Artie. His real name is Artemis, but I call him Artie for short. I think it fits him better.”

  Luke reached out to pet Mittens, and I could feel the vibration of her satisfied purr against my arm.

  “It’s a really nice place you’ve got here, Becky.”

  I looked around, and my lips turned up in a satisfied smile. It was no Olympic training facility, but it was mine.

  Luke’s stomach rumbled, and, call it reflexes, I put a hand over my own midsection. Crusty dried snot met my touch. Gross. I needed to clean up and salvage what was left of a first impression before Luke decided to do a Julia Roberts impersonation and become a runaway groom.

  “Let me jump in the shower real quick, and then we can get some lunch.”

  I’d debated whether taking him to the diner on the first day was a good idea or not. The simple fact was, I wasn’t a world-renowned chef like Gordon Ramsey. Instead of a perfectly cooked beef Wellington, my culinary repertoire consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and pasta, and usually I could scramble eggs without managing to undercook them. My mortification of serving the man sandwiches fit for a kindergarten class outweighed my fear of anything the town gossips would say.

  Stepping out of the shower, I chose a light-pink eyelet sundress with spaghetti straps to make up for the horrible first impression I must have given Luke. Instead of muck boots, I pulled on a nice pair of calf length brown embroidered cowgirl boots. Deftly, I French-braided my still damp hair and added a bit of mascara to my eyelashes and gloss to my lips.

  “Ready?” I asked as I stepped out of my bedroom and into the main room of the house. His eyes roamed over me, and his lips twitched upward.

  Please let that be a twitch of appreciation. I could feel my cheeks begin to warm in a blush at his gaze. Now it was beginning to feel like a first date.

  The most important first date of my life.

  When we pulled up to the diner, I was happy to find a lot of empty parking spaces.. Maybe there wouldn’t be too many prying eyes and listening ears.

  Luke was a perfect gentleman and walked around to open my door. As we approached the diner, another couple stepped out. My eyes locked on the tall man in a Stetson hat, and my heart froze in my chest. There stood James Anthony and the blond bimbo who had stolen him from me.

  To his credit, James looked as startled as I felt.

  “Uh, hi, Becky.”

  “James.”

  Luke looked at me and then back at James, and James looked at Luke and then back at me and the blond just looked bored as she picked at her nails. I wanted to melt into a puddle on the ground, do a magic trick and make myself disappear, or quickly invent a time machine and program it for a time and place that wasn’t then and there. Anything to get out of that awkward setting.

  “Who’s this?” James jutted out his chin in Luke’s direction. There was an edge to his voice that he no longer had the right to have. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have said he sounded jealous.

  Luke stepped a little closer and placed a hand to the small of my back. The warmth of the contact was surprisingly calming, although by the way James’s eyes widened, I think it had the opposite effect on him.

  I sighed. This day was not going at all like I’d planned. The first impression I made was that of a human Kleenex, and now this. Even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I introduced the two men—the one from my past to the one of my future.

  “James, this is Luke Masterson.”

  “Her fiancé,” Luke supplied.

  I snapped my mouth shut as I tried to recover from Luke’s pronouncement. In the truest sense of the word, Luke was my fiancé. He’d just driven two thousand miles to move to another state with the express purpose of marrying me, but I never thought I would hear him say it the first day we met…in public…to my ex-boyfriend…and even before we had a chance to talk.

  The hand on my back curled around my waist, and Luke gently pulled me close to his side, tucking me under his shoulder.

  James glared at Luke a second longer before stalking off, his new lady following in his wake.

  “Come on. I’m starving,” Luke said.

  The slight pressure on my back prodded me through the diner doors. My legs automatically propelled me forward, while my mind was still paralyzed from Luke’s proclamation. I didn’t know why I was so surprised. I guess a part of me just figured that before all was said and done, he’d come to his senses and hightail it back to the Midwest. He seemed too normal, too good to be true, to marry a complete stranger—to marry me.

  We were seated at a booth in the corner of the diner. Luke watched me from across the table. Nervous and completely embarrassed about the scene that had taken place out front, I tried to avoid eye contact at all costs.

  As intent as I was about not looking at the man across from me, I totally missed the outstretched arm until my hand was engulfed in a larger one and gently drawn to rest in his in the middle of the table. The gesture was less of an intimate one as much as it was to gain my attention. It was effective. I found myself peering into gray-blue eyes that were earnest in their regard.

  “I was serious about what I said.”

  My throat worked as I swallowed and bought time to think of something to say.

  Wendy approached our table, and I didn’t know if I should kiss her for saving me from my tongue-tied response or be upset with her for
interrupting a conversation upon which my future hinged.

  I attempted to extricate my hand from under Luke’s, but the pressure increased. Wendy stared at our joined hands. I cringed. Should I try to remove my hand? No. That would just create more of scene. I left it where it was, cradled in his large, warm, capable palm. Besides, it felt kind of nice. My life had seemed like it was unraveling faster than a ball of yarn in a kitten’s grasp ever since I’d learned Poppy’s leukemia was back. The hand holding mine was a bit of an anchor that, at the very least, slowed the unraveling down.

  “You guys ready to order?” Wendy’s pen was poised over her pad of paper. Her lips smacked the gum rolling around in her mouth. Ah, such fine dining.

  We gave Wendy our order, and she left with one last pointed glance at our hands still clasped atop the table.

  Needing to gain some composure, I tugged my hand free and demurely placed it in my lap with the other.

  “Listen,” I said, “I want to apologize for what happened out there.”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

  “James and I, well, we broke up not that long ago and, well…”

  “It’s okay, Becky. Lisa told me all about it.”

  My relief over not having to explain further battled my embarrassment.

  “But Becky,” he continued, “what I told him was true too. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Even though that was exactly what I wanted to hear, my self-doubt took ahold of my voice.