by Lynn Hagen
Red didn’t want to think about Lincoln, think about the deep attraction he felt toward the guy. It wouldn’t do him any good. Red didn’t plan on sticking around. He wasn’t even sure why he’d come to this ranch in the first place.
Red had an outstanding IQ but was clueless how to come back from the horror he’d survived. That gut-clenching feeling that, at times, paralyzed him.
“I’m gonna get back to work.” Right now Red needed to be alone, to calm himself and purge the all-consuming feeling of drowning in his own blood.
“I’m going to go talk with Lincoln and see how Ladybug’s training is going. If you need me, you know where I’m at.”
As Mercy walked away, Red’s gaze was drawn to Lincoln, who was leading the horse by a long rope. Ladybug stepped over training poles on the ground then kept going, keeping a slow and steady pace.
But Red’s focus wasn’t on the horse. He was staring at Lincoln’s lean back and how those denim jeans hugged the man so nicely.
“Thinking about learning how to break in a horse?”
Red jerked at the sound of Jason voice. He hadn’t seen the farm hand approach. Jason was around Red’s height with a thicker build and had a head full of blond hair. The guy was very good-looking. “No, but watching how it’s done is fascinating.”
“It sure is a beautiful sight.” Jason tipped his Stetson. “Best be getting back to work.”
Red wasn’t sure if Jason was talking about himself or if he was implying that Red needed to stop standing around. The cowboy sauntered over to the fence and leaned on it, watching Lincoln with the horse.
This wasn’t Red’s grove. He didn’t do manual labor, not that anything was wrong with that. But he was gifted with a brain that could read hundreds of lines of code and remember everything. An eidetic memory. If Red understood what he read, he never forgot it. And he understood computer coding. It was a second language to him.
That was what he missed doing. Aside from helping Mercy, Red hadn’t seen a laptop in months. In the computer world, he was already a dinosaur. Red was itching to get back online and talk with his friends. The last they’d heard from him, Red was flying to Maple Grove to do a friend a favor.
But he was dead, or supposed to be.
Even that small amount of time on Lincoln’s ancient computer had thrilled Red. For a tiny moment he’d felt alive again.
And now he was heading back to the stables to clean. Sometimes life sucked a big fat dick.
Chapter Two
“Tell me what I need to purchase, and will you put it all together for me?”
Red suppressed the knee-jerk reaction to jump when he heard the voice behind him. He’d been mending part of the fence, lost in his own thoughts, and feeling at peace out there in the pasture all by himself.
It had been Adam Perry who had shown Red how to fix the fence. One demonstration and Red had the procedure down pat.
But if he spent much more time under the grueling sun, Red wouldn’t be for the shortened version of his name. He would be called Red because he would sunburn. Even though he was out in the open with a nice breeze, he was sweating like crazy.
And now that Lincoln had shown up, Red was sweating even more. Why did the guy have to be so damn good-looking? He was the epitome of manly cowboy, and damn it, Red wanted a piece of that fine-ass man.
“I don’t know too much about the computer stuff.” Red set the fencing pliers down and wiped at his sweaty brow. “You’d be better off hiring a professional.”
Just the thought of buying the equipment and building Lincoln a computer had Red’s blood pumping. Or it could have been how close the tall, lean man stood by him. Red had done everything in his power to avoid his boss, but Lincoln always found a reason to search him out.
“You seemed to know what you were talking about yesterday.” Lincoln went to his knees, pulled a pair of work gloves from his back pocket, and grabbed the next part of the barbed wire that needed repaired. He looped the end then grabbed the small roll of wire and fed it through the loop.
Red cursed the fact that he’d let on about his skills in the office. He was trying to forget that part of his life. If it hadn’t been for his skills, he never would’ve been there that day, never would’ve been stabbed and shot. Now the cold that always invaded him whenever he thought of that crept through him.
“Red?”
Red took a step back, forcing himself not to rub his arms. “Mending fences is my job. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to it.”
He also didn’t trust himself around Lincoln. Fuck, why was he so attracted to the guy? Lincoln was hunkered down in front of him, and all Red could think about was tackling him and kissing him until neither of them could breathe.
Lincoln stood, towering over Red. “I don’t know your past, what you’re running from, and it ain’t my business. If you want everyone to think you’re not too bright with computers, fine. I can keep a secret, Red. I also have a ton of paperwork that needs to get done. I’m just asking you to do me a solid.”
The temptation was overwhelming. Red hesitated then shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He wasn’t getting sucked back into that part of his life. It was over. There was no room for discussion.
“If it’s money—”
A bark of wry laughter escaped Red. Money wasn’t an issue. “You just don’t know when to give up, do you? You hired me as a ranch worker, and that’s what I’m doing.”
Red bent and grabbed the barbed wire. He used the stretcher, so pissed that Lincoln was trying to pry, that he lost his hold and the wire snapped back, cutting Red across the face.
Red fell to his ass, pressing a hand over his face.
“Fuck!” Lincoln dropped to one knee. “Let me see how bad it is.”
The smell of his own blood triggered a flash of emotions that had Red scrambling away, his hand still pressed against his cheek. Fuck, it hurt like hell, but all he saw were those three men who’d attacked him.
Lincoln held up his hands. “You’re safe, Red. No one is going to hurt you. I just need to take a look at the wound.”
Talk about showing his cards. Could Red be any more fucked up? He swallowed tightly and lowered his hand. He made himself sit still as Lincoln inspected his injury.
“You’re gonna need stitches. I need to take you to the clinic.”
“No.” Red couldn’t chance going into town. He didn’t want anyone seeing him, though no one in Fever’s Edge knew who he was. Even so, if those men who had tried to kill him came looking, Red wanted the residents to remain ignorant of his existence.
“I can have the doctor come here, or I can stich you up myself,” Lincoln offered. “Unless you know how to stitch up your own self.”
Just the thought of putting a needle into his face made Red queasy. “You can do it.”
“Then let’s get you back to the house.” Lincoln stood and offered his hand, but Red ignored it and stood on his own. He had used a four-wheeler but left it as he stalked to Lincoln’s truck and hopped into the bed instead of the passenger seat.
His boss didn’t say a word as he got in and drove them back to the house. Red had removed his work gloves and had a hand against his bloody cheek. He closed his eyes and continually reminded himself that he wasn’t in that kitchen chair, that a knife hadn’t just been plunged into his thigh. That he hadn’t just taken two bullets.
He was cut by barbed wire. That was all. No threat. No taunting men. No crawling away to safety. He was in Lincoln’s truck, out in the open, being driven to get his cheek stitched up.
Red jumped out when they arrived, and regretted the move. His feet hitting the ground jarred him and made his face pound even harder.
Lincoln led him inside.
“What on earth happened?” Mercy asked when he came out of the kitchen, his eyes wide, wiping his hands on his apron. “Why’re you bleeding?”
“Lincoln slugged me for not doing the fence correctly,”
Red said.
“I know that’s a lie,” Mercy said. “Your mate would never—” Mercy’s eyes grew wider as Lincoln let out a snarl.
“Don’t you have lunch to make?” Lincoln snapped.
“I think I hear my biscuits burning.” Mercy spun on his heel and took off.
“This way.”
Red followed Lincoln into the downstairs bathroom. He expected to be stuffed into the room with Lincoln considering how big the guy was, but the room was a nice size. Red took a seat on the toilet lid as Lincoln rummaged under the sink.
“You keep a stitching kit in your bathroom?”
“You never know what kind of injuries you’ll sustain on a ranch. A lot of my workers swear by their anonymity, just like you, so I’ve become a pro at being a cut-rate doctor.”
“Have you ever stitched anyone up before?” Red refused to look at Lincoln stringing a curved needle.
“I can do it in my sleep.” Lincoln turned toward him. “Hold your head back. This is gonna hurt like hell.”
Lincoln cleaned the wound, patted Red’s face dry, and came close with his needle.
Red jerked back.
“You can’t be moving like that,” Lincoln admonished. “I don’t want to do any more damage than has already been done. Now hold still.”
Red focused on the shower curtain as Lincoln pressed a warm, strong hand against his jaw. There were campers in various scenes on the curtain, little forest animals by the campfire.
“Take a deep breath.”
Red held his breath. Not only because Lincoln had told him to but because the guy’s rich, leathery smell was playing havoc with Red’s senses.
Lincoln grinned. “I said take a deep breath, not hold it. Let it out before you pass out.”
Red let his breath go, and Lincoln’s scent invaded his lungs as he breathed. He held steady, still focusing on the campers, then shouted when the needle pierced his skin.
“You want some whiskey to take the edge off?”
“No, I can do this.” His inhibition lowered was the last thing Red needed. He’d never been much of a drinker. His friends used to tease him and call him a lightweight.
His attention snapped back to the present when Lincoln stuck him again. Red gritted his teeth, wishing he had some Novocain. He was seconds away from passing out from the pain.
“It’s a jagged cut,” Lincoln said. “I’m gonna do my best to make a clean stitch. Don’t want to mar that pretty puss of yours.”
Red chanced a glance. The guy was focused hard, his brows knitted, his jaw clenched. “I’d hardly call my mug pretty.”
“I’ll have to beg to differ. Now stop talking.”
Red had never been this close to Lincoln before. He saw the soft lines around his eyes, the firm jaw covered by a low-trimmed beard and mustache.
And how his shirt hugged and caressed his muscles.
“Almost done.” Lincoln’s thumb traced Red’s jawline. “How you doing?”
Red frowned. “You just told me not to talk.”
Lincoln’s chuckle was deep and warm. “I guess I just contradicted myself.”
“My face hurts like hell,” Red said.
“I reckon it does.” Lincoln tied off the string and cut it. “Now for the really painful part.”
Red watched as Lincoln got the rubbing alcohol from the medicine cabinet. He poured a good amount on Red’s face, making Red scream his fool head off.
“Son of a bitch!” Red fanned his face as he jumped up and rocked forward. “I guess my modeling career is over.” He spun and crashed right into Lincoln.
Lincoln gripped Red’s upper arms. “Steady.”
“You just set my face on fire,” Red snapped. “I’m allowed to jump around like a lunatic.”
“Let me put a bandage on that so dirt or other stuff doesn’t get into the wound.”
Red felt like a yo-yo. He wanted to stay and let Lincoln touch him any way the guy wanted to, and he wanted to run from the crazy attraction he felt toward him.
He decided to stay and let Lincoln finish patching him up. “Do I look like Frankenstein’s monster?” Red touched the gauze and winced.
“I think your injury makes you look like a rogue pirate.” Lincoln winked as he put away the first aid kit. “You can tell any badass story to the others, and I won’t contradict you.”
“I’ll tell them that Rhinestone and I had a falling out and it turned into a duel.”
Lincoln laughed. “I think you should use another horse. Rhinestone doesn’t make your story seem tough enough.”
Red snorted. “Should I say I got my ass kicked by a horse named Ladybug?”
That made Lincoln laugh even harder, which made Red chuckle. It had been a long while since he’d laughed like that. It wasn’t much, just a chuckle, but damn it felt good to let his fears fall away, even for a moment.
“You need to take a break from work. I’ll get you some iced tea. Mercy makes the best.”
Red’s smile faded. He didn’t want to get to know Lincoln. Red wasn’t in a good place, and he didn’t need his boss getting involved in his mess. “I think I should just get back to work.”
What Red really wanted to do was go back to the bunkhouse and rest. His face was still throbbing, and he wanted to put distance between them.
That tangible attraction that clung in the air between them.
“I can’t let you work after you’ve injured yourself.” Lincoln waved for Red to leave the bathroom. “Take the rest of the day off and rest.”
Red wasn’t going to argue with those orders since it was exactly what he’d been thinking.
“Thanks.” Red pointed to his face. “For saving my ugly mug.”
What was one more scar? When it rained, Red’s thigh hurt like a bitch where he’d gotten stabbed, as did the two healed bullet holes in his chest.
At the rate he was going, Red truly would look like Frankenstein’s monster.
Lincoln touched Red’s cheek. “Ugly doesn’t describe you, Red. Warm bread with melted butter. Refreshing rain on a scorching day.”
Red had no clue what Lincoln was talking about. He gave a nervous chuckle as he walked toward the front door. “I’ll be ready to finish that fence first thing in the morning.”
“I’d feel better if you took someone with you.” Lincoln walked him to the door. “Have Jason help you.”
Red nodded and made a dash for it before he gave in to his desires and begged Lincoln to kiss him.
* * * *
Lincoln watched as Red drew closer to the backyard. His mate smiled at a few men and looked around, as if lost.
“I think I’ll go reel him in. You don’t want him getting scared and taking off.” Mercy took off across the yard as Lincoln flipped the burgers and moved the hot dogs around. The smoke billowed from the grill, chasing Lincoln no matter where he stood.
It had been a full day since his accident, and Red still wore the bandage on his face. Lincoln needed to take a look at it. He didn’t want any kind of infection to set in.
In truth, he was surprised Red had showed up. Any other time Lincoln barbequed, Red had stayed away. It was something Lincoln liked to do for his workers to show his appreciation.
“I’ll take over.” Mercy returned, Red in tow. “I’m the one with the grill skills.”
Lincoln snorted. “You wish. I can outcook you on the grill any day of the week.”
“But not in the kitchen.” Mercy pointed out a fact. Meat, Lincoln could do. Anything else and he’d either burn it or undercook it. The last time he tried to make pasta he’d let the noodles cook too long. It had taken him a while after that to enjoy pasta again.
“You got me there.” Lincoln turned to Red. “I want to take a look under your bandage to make sure your skin isn’t hot, swollen, or any pus is coming out.”
“Gag,” Mercy said. “Now you’ve ruined my appetite.”
“Hey, boss.” Jason walked up and smiled at Lincoln. “Glad to be eatin’ some of your cookin�
� today.”
“Mercy has the grill.” Lincoln coaxed Red toward the house.
“I think Jason has a crush on you,” Red commented. “You’re all he talked about today.”
“Jason?” Lincoln looked over his shoulder to see Jason was grinning at him. “Nah, he’s just a nice guy.”
“If you say so.” Red followed him into the house. Lincoln was surprised that his mate hadn’t argued about someone fussing over him. Not that Red had argued yesterday, but he’d done everything possible to avoid Lincoln since starting on the ranch.
After Red obediently sat on the closed lid of the toilet, Lincoln peeled back the bandage. “I’m gonna clean it again. Just to be on the safe side.”
“Hell no.” Red jumped up and backed away. “I’m not having you set my face on fire again.”
“Sit down, you big baby. I’m gonna use peroxide this time. I swear peroxide doesn’t hurt. It just bubbles a lot if the wound is dirty.”
“Does it look okay?” Red asked.
“It’s not red or swollen.”
“Then there you have it,” Red said. “There’s no need to torture me.”
Red had no idea the ways Lincoln wanted to torture him. In the bed, over the back of the couch, on the kitchen table. Anywhere he could bend the guy over.
Lincoln narrowed his eyes. “Do I need to wrestle you down?”
Fuck, now he was half-hard and trying to control his tiger from jumping free.
A spark lit up Red’s green eyes. Lincoln tried not to put too much meaning into that look, but hell if he didn’t wish Red would drop his pants right there in the bathroom and beg Lincoln to fuck him.
“I’ll do it myself.” Red held out his hand and wiggled his fingers. Lincoln handed over the bottle.
“Maybe if you do a good job we can switch from the gauze to a Snoopy Band-Aid.”
Red stilled and looked at Lincoln through the mirror. Lincoln feared he’d gone too far by the crease between Red’s brows. “I won’t settle for anything less than an Iron Man or Thor Band-Aid.”
