Page 11 of A Week To Wed
This makes Lincoln smile, which makes me smile. “He likes pretty girls. We keep him on to give rides to visitors to the ranch.”
Trying not to blush at the implication that he thinks I’m pretty is like trying not to feel turned on every time Lincoln stares at me with those honey-colored eyes.
“Do you get many visitors?”
“Sometimes Harley’s grandkids show up for a spell. Ray likes to use Solomon to woo women, especially those who’ve never ridden a horse.”
I laugh at this. “Does it work?”
“I don’t ask questions I don’t want the answers to. Ray is more than happy to overshare,” he says with a smirk.
Horse talk continues, and he tells me the ranch has a tradition: whichever ranch hand tends the birth of a new foal gets to name them. Three mares: Lady, Peach, and Blanca, the white horse among the six. And two other stallions besides Solomon, who are Javier, and Fuego.
When there’s a lull in the conversation, it doesn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. I like watching Lincoln enjoy my cooking and knowing I did a good job.
He nods. “You still need a ride to town tomorrow?”
I tell him most of the truth: I visited Bozeman to make some deposits for the wedding.
“But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to go back to try on dresses.”
He nods. “Sounds good to me. But are you sure you want me to see you in your dress before the wedding?”
Lightly, I nudge his leg with my socked foot under the table. “You’re not superstitious, are you?”
“No. You just seem rather…traditional about weddings.”
I jut out my chin. “So are you. I mean, you are insisting on paying for the dress. You should see what you’re getting.”
With a smile of encouragement from Lincoln, I push aside my plate and lift my binder off the empty chair. I flip it open to my favorite page.
“See this?” I rotate it around for Lincoln to see. “I looked it up online, and there’s a dress shop in Bozeman that carries this exact one. It’s gorgeous, right?”
He grunts. “All I see is feathers.”
I chuckle. “It’s old Hollywood glam. I’ve always loved Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Ever since I saw that movieTop Hat,I knew I wanted to get married in a dress exactly like that.”
“Who?”
“Ginger Rogers?” I repeat quietly. “Fred Astaire?”
Lincoln looks thoughtful, but nothing is ringing a bell.
“I tried to get Godfrey to learn it for the….”
Oh shit. I didn’t mean to go on and on like that.
At the mention of another man’s name, Lincoln’s mouth goes flat. “Who?”
“Nobody.” My cheeks heat.
“You wanted who to learn what for what?” Lincoln pushes.
I try to wave this off, but it’s a weak attempt. “It’s nothing. It’s just a childish dream I had once.”
Lincoln pulls the binder across the table to get a closer look. “I can see why you like it. Not many people can wear that many feathers, but you…you have a long torso.”
Smiling, I repeat it back to him. “I have a long torso?”
