Finding Stefanie (12 page)

Something much like relief, or maybe gratitude, crossed Gideon’s face. It tore at Lincoln. For a second he saw himself the first time
Dex had asked him to read for a part. What Gideon didn’t know was that Lincoln knew exactly how it felt to have raw, wet, chapped hands from washing dishes for ten hours. How it felt to have to decide between feeding yourself or finding a place to sleep. How it felt to want something so badly it gnawed at your insides.

Sometimes it still gnawed at him.

“Thanks, Mr. Cash.”

“Call me Lincoln. And you’re welcome, Gideon. See you tomorrow.”

CHAPTER 7

“I’
M HERE BECAUSE
I’m going to do something good for this town. Because Phillips is a great place, and I’d like to be a part of it.”

Lincoln Cash was haunting her. In the tabloids, in her small town, and now, at her own home.

And he looked good doing it too. Stefanie stood in the kitchen, watching as the man she kept trying to forget got out of a fancy black pickup and sauntered toward her house. He wore a pair of faded jeans, black cowboy boots, a deep blue cotton shirt that probably matched his eyes, and a brown bomber jacket.

He had the aura of a man who knew the world loved him. She was surprised he didn’t have a trail of press behind him.

Well, he usually did.

And that was the last thing she needed in her life, especially with three runaways stashed at her house. And she wasn’t going to let them go without a fight. Even if she had to take on Lincoln Cash.

Why did he insist on returning to the scene of his crimes? Couldn’t he see that he had no fans at the Silver Buckle? Except for Clancy, that is, who got up from the porch and greeted Lincoln,
shoving his nose into Lincoln’s hand. Lincoln crouched down and rubbed the dog behind both ears.

Traitor.
Stefanie shook her head.

Haley sat on the floor with a former barn kitten, now bathed and de-fleaed, curled on her lap. Haley herself had been bathed by Macey, her hair shampooed, her face scrubbed, and her clothes washed—although Stefanie had wanted to burn them. Piper had gone into Sheridan early in the week and returned with three bags of clothes from Wal-Mart. She’d spent the afternoon showing Haley her new attire.

Piper had managed to coax a smile from the little girl, but they all ached to hear her voice, the one that matched her beautiful eyes, the tawny blonde hair, the gap-toothed smile. Haley had a gentleness about her, evident in the way she cared for her new kitten. And the way she’d begun to warm to Gideon, sometimes even waiting for him outside his room until he dragged in from work, had affected her older brother.

Seeing him take his little sister in his arms, hug her with his eyes closed, even tuck her into bed at night made Stefanie’s throat ache every time.

She worried about Gideon too. He seemed ragged to the bone, and last night he’d trudged in cold and wet. She didn’t ask but simply knocked on his door with a pile of Rafe’s clothes and gave him a don’t-mess-with-me look.

When Gideon had come down the stairs this morning for breakfast, she was glad to see that he wore a pair of jeans and a thermal shirt under a red flannel work shirt. Rafe had worn that outfit about six years ago, and in a way, Gideon looked so much like her reckless twin brother that it scared her a little.

Please, Lord, don’t let Gideon make the same mistakes Rafe did
.

She’d stopped feeling guilty about not calling Social Services . . . mostly because, with Piper and Nick now living in the house, it seemed a million times better than anything Social Services might offer, especially short-term. It had also made the inevitable decision about Stefanie moving to the hunting cabin easier—they’d all simply focused on practicality.

It didn’t make the nights any less lonely. But it did give her a good reason to get up early and head down to the house.

Evidently, in time to greet Lincoln as he climbed onto the porch and knocked on the door.

At Lincoln’s knock, Macey looked up from her cereal and met Stefanie’s eyes. Macey had surprised her the last few days. Despite her dark exterior, the multiple piercings, the sullen set of her jaw that suggested attitude, she’d worked without complaining, mucking out the barn and grooming the horses. The quarter horses that Stefanie had purchased from the herd still held at the fairgrounds were young, most of them just over three, and unbacked. They were all thin and wary, candidates for compassion. Just like Macey.

Stefanie had known Macey would be the right fit when she’d handed the teen a brush and led her to a sorrel that stood nearly fourteen hands. As Macey had quietly groomed him, he’d stood perfectly still, sensing perhaps that she was new and probably afraid of his size. She’d shucked off his winter coat, causing the sorrel’s hide underneath to glisten, shining under the sun.

It had reminded Stefanie so much of Sunny, of watching him bloom under her care, that she hadn’t been able to speak. She just sat on the rail and watched as Macey combed out the sorrel’s mane, then his tail.

It was as Macey rolled up her sleeves to wash him that Stefanie saw the cuts on her arms. Deep red, some of them. Others faded. But so evident of abuse—whether self-inflicted or otherwise—that Stefanie had to climb down off the rail and hide in the barn until she scraped up control.

Stefanie didn’t care what it took; she wasn’t going to let anyone hurt these kids.

Which was why she pursed her lips and gave Macey a solemn don’t-worry look as she opened the door to Lincoln.

He swept his hat off his head and gave her a smile that probably netted him a million dollars in one sitting. “Hey, Stefanie.”

She clamped one hand on her hip. “What do you want?”

“I’m here to give Gideon a ride to work.” He peered inside, nodding at Gideon.

Stefanie followed his gaze. “What are you talking about?”

“Gideon’s coming to work for me. On my house.” He winked at Gideon. “No more washing dishes, huh?”

When Gideon acknowledged Lincoln with a shy grin, someone could have knocked her over with a housefly. Since when were they best pals?

As if to rub salt into her wounds, Cash flashed another smug million-dollar grin at her.

She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. And, even as strong as she was, she didn’t expect it to be farther than the porch. Still, he had the unnerving ability to knock all her expectations off-kilter. Clenching her jaw, she opened the screen door. “Well, you might as well come in, then, and let him finish his breakfast.” She turned to Gideon. “You need a lunch?”

Gideon shook his head, and she wondered if he ever ate lunch.

Lincoln must have read her mind. “We have lunch catered at the ranch. He’ll be fine.”

Okay, whoever he was, this guy had stolen Lincoln’s body and wore it just as well. She studied him, trying to shake down the invader. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but . . .”

His expression said that he hadn’t a clue what she might be referring to. Actor, indeed.

She shook her head, turning away. Then she heard him sigh.

“I’ll be outside on the porch. Take your time, Gideon.”

Take his time? She assumed that a big star like Lincoln would live by his watch, his schedules, his phone calls.

As if her legs thought for themselves, she followed him out on the porch. “I don’t get it. A week ago, you’re trying to bribe them to leave. Now you’re Gideon’s best friend?”

“Maybe I’m just trying to be a nice guy.” He raised his eyebrows as if to say,
See, you judged me wrong
. “I’m really pretty decent if you get to know me.”

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? I don’t know you at all.”

“What are you talking about? We met last summer. Had a perfectly decent conversation.”

“Yeah, let’s see. You told me about your house and your collection of cars and how you and Rafe fought over the same makeup artist during one of your film shoots. You signed four autographs, posed for three pictures, and extolled the virtues of caviar, which I have never eaten nor wanted to.”

He had the decency to turn red.

“None of that information was anything more than what I could have seen on a Biography Channel episode. So, no . . . I don’t know you, Lincoln. And frankly, I’m not sure I want to.”

His smile vanished. “I don’t know what I did to put a burr under your saddle—”

“Excuse me—”

“I agree that I didn’t have my happy face on when I rolled up to find my ranch burning, but I’m trying to make that right. However, you don’t seem to want to give me a chance. Which makes me wonder about the impression I made and what happened to the girl I met last summer.”

Lincoln held up his hand as she made to speak. “I know we didn’t talk long, but at the time, you seemed to enjoy our conversation, and although your impression of our chat seems less than stellar, let me tell you
my
experience.” His voice softened. “I spent time with a beautiful girl who has an interesting life. I listened to her tell me about her love for horses and her ranch, with so much magic in her voice that it made me fall in love with the place too. She made me laugh at her expression when I described fish eggs, and she was patient enough to let me sign a few autographs when I should have given her my undivided attention. That’s the conversation I remember. But now, you look like you’d rather spend time with a cactus than with me.”

Stefanie folded her arms across her chest, but his words had unseated her. Perhaps she was being too hard on him.

“What did I do, Stefanie?”

She looked away. The sun had come up, burning off the last of the clouds, and spring filled the air with the scent of grass coming back to life, the sound of a meadowlark in the field. “I’m just not your type, Lincoln.”

The look on his face spoke confusion and a hint of hurt.
Oh, please.
Like that truth wasn’t screaming from her ancient frayed jean
jacket right down to her old boots covered with manure. On the contrary, his boots looked fresh out of the box—or better, off some handcrafter’s shelf. She put on her armor, refusing to be swayed by his pout. He was just looking for a distraction while he did whatever he was doing here in Phillips.

“Or maybe you’re not
my
type. I can’t keep up with you. I don’t have the hair or the wardrobe—”

“There’s nothing wrong with your wardrobe—”

“For a girl who works with cattle all day, yes, but not for . . . well, whatever works in your world.”

“I don’t have that world anymore.”

Stefanie rolled her eyes. “I know you’re probably trying to be nice, but let me save you the trouble. This is about as dressed up as I get. I don’t have designer dresses in my wardrobe, and I’ve never had a manicure. I am not a girl who would fit into your world.”

He opened his mouth, but she stopped him. “Don’t. We’re just too different.” She lifted her shoulder and injected as much nonchalance into her tone as she could muster. Never mind that her stomach couldn’t get any tighter, her throat more dry.

She gestured to the corrals, the barns, the fields. “This is my life and all it’s ever going to be.” She swallowed, then forced a smile. “But I am glad to see your change of heart about the kids.”

“Just give me a chance to show you that maybe you’re wrong about us. We’re not so different, really.”

For a split second, Stefanie almost believed him, almost said yes. Almost bought into the fantasy that rose in her mind, the one where she was inside those incredible arms, the recipient of his 100 percent breathtaking attention.

She’d spent enough time analyzing her reaction to their
conversation last summer to know it wasn’t the clothes or the fancy cars or even the celebrity status that made him a star. He might have been showing off, trying to make her like him, but he couldn’t help it. Fans loved him because he had a lethal charisma that poured off the screen and into their hearts. A girl couldn’t be in a room with him for ten seconds without turning his direction, being hypnotized by his charm.

Except her, thankfully. She knew the devastating effects of that kind of charm, knew better than to fall for a golden boy with a Texas swagger and a heartbreaking smile. Especially if she wanted to keep her pride intact. Still, if Lincoln Cash planned on sticking around Phillips, it would behoove her to stay far away from his smile. Because this time she had nowhere to run.

“No, Lincoln, there are no more chances. I would appreciate, however, if you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize these kids. They’re doing okay here. And I want it to stay that way.”

He sighed, looked away from her. If she didn’t know him better, she would think that was real regret she saw on his face. But he was an actor, a very good actor.

And he certainly wouldn’t feel any real regret about not wooing her. Didn’t he see that she was making it easier for him? Now maybe they could pass each other on the street without inducing a cold snap and killing the flowers.

Gideon came out on the porch.

“C’mon, kid. Let’s get to work.” Lincoln started to follow Gideon down the steps. Then, to her surprise, he turned, and a smile came over his face, as if he hadn’t heard a word that she’d said. “See you round, neighbor.”

It hit Stefanie that that was exactly what she was afraid of.