“I thought he loved me. . . .” She gave a halfhearted shrug and smiled at Macey, who put down her book and looked at her curiously. “I guess he got bored. Or . . . I don’t know. We dated for three months, but it ended when I found him with another woman.”
Piper glanced at Macey and stood, waddling over to Stefanie. With the baby due in less than two months, she looked like the fun had long since vanished from her pregnancy.
She hooked Stefanie by the arm, drawing her into the kitchen. “He cheated on you?” she whispered.
“I’m not sure he’d consider it cheating. Now that I think about it, he took great pains to hide our . . . whatever it was. We spent a lot of time indoors . . . if you know what I mean.”
Apparently Piper knew exactly what she meant. She gave her a soft smile. “We’ve all made mistakes.”
“Yeah, well, in my book, this was a big one. And to make it worse, I thought he’d planned this romantic getaway. . . . I got dressed up.” She sighed, seeing herself young and naive. “I probably made more of it than it was. But I was pretty ashamed of myself. I finally quit school at the end of the semester and came back to the Buckle.”
Piper wore a murderous look. “Did Nick know?”
“No—I didn’t need my big brother fighting my battles for me. Besides, he was . . .” Well, he’d disappeared from the ranch by then, and none of her letters were answered. “Out of the house.”
Piper knew enough of Nick’s past to give an understanding nod. “So now, what, you swear off all good-looking men?”
“Yep. Just the dogs for me.” Her little joke fell flat. “Listen, Lincoln Cash isn’t my type because I’m not his type. Yes, he’s gorgeous, but I don’t swoon when he walks into the room—”
“No, you just get mean.”
“That’s not true. I’ve been really nice. Overly nice. But the biggest reason is that I’m not going to be Lincoln Cash’s Montana distraction. He has a life, and it’s not here. Mine is. As soon as Lincoln lands another great movie role, he’s moving back to Hollywood. I can feel it in my bones. He’s here for fun, to pass time, or maybe even to try and pull off his film festival. But it won’t last, because despite his smile and the fact that he spent this week doing a stellar impression of a normal guy, I can’t help but think Lincoln can’t live without his fancy cars, his gourmet restaurants, and his gaggle of beautiful women. It’s only a matter of time.”
Piper had obviously been practicing her wise-mother look because she used it on Stefanie now. Pretty well, in fact. “I think you might need to look beyond what you see. Give him a chance.”
Stefanie held up her hand. “Don’t even go there. I’m not looking to repeat my mistakes. We’re just neighbors, and I promise you, that’s all we’ll ever be.”
“Neighbors. Sure.” Piper went over to the fridge and opened it, then closed it with a huff. “Why is it that whenever I want something good to eat, it’s never there?”
“Want to come with me? I think we’re having steak.”
“I wouldn’t dream of tagging along. By the way, where’s Gideon? I didn’t see him come home.”
Stefanie sat down, pulling on the expensive black boots she’d worn in New York City last fall at one of Rafe’s GetRowdy bull-riding charity events. She figured wearing them again helped justify the expense. Besides, there weren’t too many places in Phillips where she could get dressed up without igniting a maelstrom of “high-and-mighty” comments.
She zipped into the boots. “He’s upstairs, lying on his bed. Seems to me that something is eating at him—he’s been chewing on something distasteful for the last three days, by the look on his face.”
“He definitely has a lot on his plate.” Piper opened the fridge again and took out a bag of baby carrots. “All of us do.” She looked up, crunching.
It suddenly occurred to Stefanie that maybe . . . what if Piper and Nick didn’t want the kids around? Yes, they’d been supportive, and Piper had clearly fallen in love with Haley, but once their own child arrived, how anxious would they be to invest in three runaways who needed their full attention?
Haley wouldn’t talk, and no one could ignore Macey’s damaged arms. It looked as though her cutting had stopped, the last marks having turned pink and healing, but if they went back into the system, who knew what might happen?
In one short month, these kids had filled up so many empty places inside Stefanie, it took her breath away. She remembered how hollow her life had been without them.
Stefanie grabbed the long trench coat she wore for church. “We’re doing the right thing. They need us.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Piper nodded. “Be safe.”
Stefanie didn’t know exactly what Piper meant by that, but she gave her a nod and headed out the door. Clancy met her on the porch, tail wagging, and followed her to the truck. “No, pal. You can’t go with me. I know you love Lincoln—”
Everyone, it seemed, loved Lincoln. He had hypnotized the entire town with his plans—and his money—but like she’d said to Piper, she knew how to stay out of the vortex of his charm.
See, just neighbors.
As she drove up to John Kincaid’s old ranch, Stefanie had to admit that Lincoln had done an incredible job of sprucing up the neighborhood. His massive log home fairly glittered against the night, with its sprawling two stories totaling over four thousand square feet, the massive wraparound porch, the two fireplaces. She could hardly believe that just over a month ago he’d arrived to find his home in flames.
The new house overlooked the foundation where the old modular home once stood. The rubble had long since been bulldozed away, and construction workers had resealed the cement floor, ready to rebuild. The barn, which had been gutted and re-sided, had been remodeled, and the plans included a huge movie screen, floor and balcony seating, and even a café. Everything someone needed to fully experience a Lincoln Cash epic.
She felt as if she were watching one live, right before her eyes.
Across the yard, he’d expanded the livestock barn, although he’d kept the original doors and siding, and had enlarged Kincaid’s corral. Inside, the ten horses he’d rescued were probably enjoying fresh hay. He’d also taken her advice and let them out to pasture during the day. Beyond the new livery stable, a pole barn housed the tractor, his pickup, and a four-wheeler.
Next to Lincoln Cash’s operation, which had shot up like a boomtown, the Silver Buckle seemed downright decrepit.
Stefanie drove up the drive toward the house, parked her pickup in front, and got out. The wide porch held two huge pots of geraniums and a swing, which swayed in the wind.
She raised her hand to ring the bell, but the door opened, as if sensing her presence. Lincoln stood there in his stocking feet, a pair of very faded jeans, and an orange pullover. He held a glass of what looked like Coke in his hand.
She gulped, feeling very overdressed in her black dress and spike heels. She squelched the urge to turn and run.
“You look incredible.”
“For a girl who hangs out with horses all day?”
“Hey, Horse Girl, you know how to clean up.” He gave her a blatant perusal, then ended it with a wink. “Do the other cowboys in Phillips know you have legs?”
Stefanie could feel her face flame. Just neighbors!
He grinned, the scoundrel. “I promise not to tell anyone,” he said, moving aside to let her in.
“I’m going to hold you to that.” Good grief, even she could hear the delight in her voice. She stepped into the house. The beauty of the foyer took her breath away, and for a moment, she completely forgot herself. “Wow. This is amazing.”
A giant antler chandelier hung from a two-story entry, lights embedded in the crannies of the horns. The floor was dark—darker than any wood she’d ever seen—and contrasted with the gorgeous wood of the pine logs. A staircase wound upward, with what looked like hand-tooled spindles and banister. The place even smelled new, like varnish, only tempered with the delicious smells of what she assu
med was supper.
Her stomach offered a little growl.
“Perfect,” Lincoln said, setting down his drink on a rough-hewn bench in the hall. Probably cost a couple thousand, easily. “I like a girl who’s hungry.” He reached for her coat, and she let it slide off her into his hands.
“I can’t believe you built this in a month,” she said, reaching to pull off her boots.
He caught her arm. “Keep them on. They look nice on you.”
She eyed the white carpet that started in the next room. “They could be muddy.”
“I’ll get the carpets cleaned. I just never see you in anything . . . daring. I like it.”
Stefanie’s stomach did something she hadn’t felt in . . . well, she couldn’t remember the last time. Maybe she should take her boots off anyway, but with Lincoln smiling down at her . . .
She smoothed her dress, took a breath.
“I feel way out of my league.” He wore the slightest smile, and if he meant to tease, she saw nothing of it in his eyes. “Come in. Let me show you around.”
Although her home was made of logs—cut down from Silver Buckle property back when the place had been homesteaded by her great-grandfather—those logs didn’t in the least resemble the ones used for Lincoln’s house. Snug, clean, and bright, these logs looked as if they grew that way. The foyer opened into a two-story family room, with beams running the width of the house and a Montana-quarried flagstone fireplace jutting to the ceiling. Giant windows overlooked a lighted deck that most likely viewed the Bighorn Mountains during the daytime. On the other side of the stairs was a grand kitchen with dark cabinets and dark marble counters fit for some five-star chef.
Indeed, Lincoln had a chef in the kitchen right now, a woman with dark hair who looked up and flashed Stefanie a smile.
She managed one back.
“The house is actually a kit,” Lincoln said. “They truck in the pieces, and it’s like putting together giant LEGOs. Just follow the instructions.”
Oh yeah, just like LEGOs. “But you had to have an army of people here to accomplish this.”
Lincoln shrugged. “I wanted a place to get away, and this was the time to do it. Now that I’m here, I’m thinking of selling my place in California.”
He was thinking of selling his house?
“It’s not completely done yet, though. I still have to finish the library, and there’s no furniture in the upstairs bedrooms, except the master. I focused on the essential areas and my office. I hope to finish it all soon. Would you like something to drink?” He raised his glass. “Diet Coke. I’m an addict.”
Stefanie shook her head. “Water, later, will be fine.”
Whoever had designed the place had expertly mixed the Old West with new styles—wrought iron and leather furniture, paintings by Montana painter C. M. Russell, nubby llama wool blankets draped over furniture, mica-paper light fixtures. . . . With everything inside her, Stefanie wanted to plop into one of his overstuffed chairs and bury herself in a book. “Who did your interior design?” she asked.
Lincoln took a sip of his Diet Coke. “Me.”
Stefanie tried not to let surprise show on her face. Honestly, she would have expected to see his movie posters, maybe memorabilia from his various action movies, gaudy black leather, and leopard prints on the floor. Instead the place was styled with elegance, with an eye toward fitting into the Montana landscape. Who was this man? “Beautiful” was all she could say.
“We have some time before dinner. Let me show you the rest of the house.”
She followed him through the kitchen to a formal dining room, complete with a hand-carved table made of more of the dark wood, and into another room that made her smile. “I’ve never seen a personal movie theater in a house.”
Lincoln flicked on the lights. “It’s a media room. Lots of houses have them nowadays. Mine only holds nine people, so it’s small.”
It didn’t look small. A huge screen, bracketed by black curtains, took up one entire wall. The room sloped down, like one of the theaters in Sheridan, only this room had three rows of plush black leather recliners—she’d known she’d find it somewhere—complete with cup holders and little tables that she guessed would hold more than popcorn. “So this is where you watch your massive collection of Lincoln Cash movies?”
He gave her a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t suppose you want to see the electronics for this room?”
“Did you design them?”
The slightest hue of red in his face indicated that yes, he’d probably put the entire thing together. She didn’t know why she was surprised.
“Where do you keep your movie collection?”
He gestured to a door—which seemed right, because a man like him would probably have every movie ever made—but when she opened it, she found a shallow closet with just two rows of DVDs.
DVDs of Lincoln Cash movies. And every one of them still in the package.
She picked one up. “They’re not opened. I suppose you don’t need to watch them to know what they’re about.”
Disinterest showed on his face. “I don’t watch my movies.”
Her smile vanished. “What?”
Lincoln took the movie from her hand and slid it back on the shelf. “There’s more house.”
He pointed out the view from the back deck, showed her how to use the remote control for the outside lights that lined the driveway, how to run the ceiling fans, and how to control the music piped through the house.
Through it all, she kept hearing, “I don’t watch my movies.”
Why not? Even she knew that making a movie was hard work—she had listened to John Kincaid’s stories of watching his book Unshackled being made into a movie. Why wouldn’t Lincoln want to enjoy his efforts?
He finally led her back to the foyer and a room leading off from it. “This is my office.”
Stefanie found herself drawn into this little room with the mocha-colored walls, various Stetsons hanging behind the desk, the wall of books—she noted that he had Louis L’Amour’s entire leather-bound collection—and the pictures on his dark wooden credenza. A laptop was closed on top of the desk. Yet, not one movie poster, not even a wallet-size celebrity vanity picture.
And if he were to have them, they’d be here.
She walked over to the collection of photos on the credenza behind his desk. She recognized Lincoln and Dex Graves, the director of Unshackled, in what looked like a shot taken on this land, perhaps in this very place. “This was when you were working on the movie last summer, wasn’t it?”
He nodded, and for a second, she was again sitting next to him on the bleachers at the Fourth of July rodeo, listening to him tell stories of life on the set. She’d thought, even then, that he had a magic about him. And that magic showed in every photo—the one of John and Lincoln in costume, and in another, of a young woman with a wide smile and unfocused eyes. Stefanie picked it up. “Old girlfriend?”
Lincoln took it from her. “No.” He touched her elbow, steering her out of the office. “Karen made some artichoke dip for an appetizer. I promise, you’ll love it. She’s a great cook.”
Stefanie had the definite impression that she’d asked the wrong question. “Did I offend you?”
“Nope.” He walked into the kitchen. “We’ll be on the deck,” he said to Karen.
Wasn’t it freezing out there? Although it was mid-May, Montana’s nights still required a jacket or sweater. But Lincoln grabbed neither as he opened the French doors. “Join me?”
Stefanie gave him a dubious look, then stepped outside.
The warmth hit her like a summer night. Even though the deck overlooked a vast ocean of crisp darkness, the eating area—a deliciously set table for two—seemed to be in its own pocket of warmth. As Lincoln pulled out her chair, Stefanie saw why. Four outside heaters that looked like trees blew heat toward the dining area. July, in his backyard.
“This is incredible.”
He smiled. “Welco
me to my housewarming party.”
Karen came out and set a chafing dish of bubbling dip between them, then a basket of tortilla chips.
“Thank you, Karen,” Lincoln said.
Stefanie saw by her smile that she, too, had been infected by the Lincoln Cash charm. But, really, how could Stefanie blame her? It would be nearly impossible to be around all this 24-7 without letting it test your resolve. Except, of course, for a girl like Stefanie.
She took a chip and dipped it into the gooey cheese. “I see I’m the only one at your party.”
Lincoln sat back in his chair. “I’m just getting to know my neighbors.”
She crunched her chip, savoring the perfectly blended flavors. She’d have to get the recipe for Piper. “That’s not what I see. I think there’s a petition in town to make you our first mayor and rename Main Street after you.”
He laughed at her jest, but she could see the thought pleased him. As if he had any doubts?
“Would you sign the petition?”
She shrugged, reaching for another chip. “Depends on the other candidates. Besides, you don’t need my vote.”
“Yours is the only one I care about.”
The chip got caught in her throat. She coughed and reached for a glass of water, drinking it down.
Lincoln sat there, grinning.
Not quite, mister. She wasn’t the same stupid, starstruck girl she’d been in college, dating the campus hotshot. And she wouldn’t let Lincoln into her heart to wreak the same damage.
But despite her words, she couldn’t help feeling that, given the chance, she’d vote for him sticking around Phillips. . . . After all, he made a very good neighbor.
Stefanie Noble had the power to leave Lincoln’s head spinning, throwing fuel on the fire he’d been trying to bank for a week, ever since they’d brought home his new herd. It wasn’t easy to be around her every day, or rather, it wasn’t easy to be around her and not want to touch that silky dark hair, maybe take her in his arms and kiss those lips that seemed to have an opinion about everything.
He’d never dated such a bossy, strong woman. Most of the women he knew not only asked how high when he suggested “jump” but did their homework to know his favorite food and perfume and wasted no time in telling him how lucky they were to be with him.
Finding Stefanie Page 14
