Page 25 of A Week To Wed
ChapterSixteen
Maisy
I plop open my binder on the sofa after dinner Wednesday night and sigh, flipping through my to-do list.
We get married in three days, and there’s still so much to do.
“I found a pastor in Bozeman who can make the trip and marry us on Saturday. I just have to let him know what time.” The officiant at the local church here in Darling Creek apparently serves two other churches in nearby towns and has to perform a funeral this Saturday, so she couldn’t do it. The magistrate will be out of town for the weekend, so I had to make lots of calls just to find someone to do the actual marrying.
“The venue: I thought we could do the ceremony by the creek. There’s a beautiful spot down there. If it rains…I’ll have a backup plan for that. I’ve booked the florist, and I have an appointment tomorrow to meet with the musicians. I couldn’t find a deejay, but I found a flyer for a local alt-country band, and when I called the number, they said they sometimes do weddings between gigs. I’m meeting with them tomorrow to listen to their set.”
My mouth dry, I take a sip of my cocoa. I feel self-conscious when I realize how long I’ve been talking.
“I should put you in charge of the ranch and have me fired.”
I chuckle. “Why do you say that?”
Lincoln looks down at the mug in his hands. “My parents never saw me as a grown-up. I was a bit of a fuck up in my younger days, and as far as they were concerned, I never grew out of it. Not complaining; it’s just the way they were.”
I’m surprised to hear this but excited that he’s finally opening up.
“I can’t imagine anyone thinking you’re not responsible,” I say. “Look around you. You take pride in your place in the world, and you should own that.”
I watch Lincoln’s throat bob. He shakes his head, shrugging off my compliments.
“I could say the same to you. Look at you. You planned an entire wedding alone, with no help from me or anyone else.”
The truth is I’ve still got loads of decisions to nail down, and I’ve had plenty of help, but I’ll take a compliment wherever I can get one.
The mug of cocoa warms my hand, but it’s nothing compared to the look on Lincoln’s face, heating my body down to my toes.
I suddenly feel shy. Why is he staring at me like that?
“Money helps a lot,” I say with a shrug.
“But you organized it. You delegated things. Being able to delegate is a sign of a leader. You should be proud of yourself,” he says.
Lord, this man.
I close the binder, heave it onto the coffee table, and Lincoln turns on a movie. He’s decided to sacrifice 90 minutes of sleep to stay up a little later with me. His suggestion.
As we watch the movie, Loki gradually inches closer and closer to Lincoln, and the two border collies are curled up on the sofa next to me. When we get to the part where Anne Hathaway tries to warn Meryl Streep that she’s about to be fired, Loki is fully and completely resting on one half of Lincoln’s lap, with my head taking up the rest of it. The cowboy’s big, strong fingers scratch him behind the ears, and he grunts with pleasure, the little traitor.
“Lincoln?”
His eyes are fixed on the screen. “Hm?”
“Whydidyou order a mail-order bride?”
He takes so long to respond that I sit up to ensure he’s still awake.
The TV goes off, and Lincoln drops the remote on the coffee table next to the chips. “So, we’re doing this now, huh?”
I smile and blink at him slowly. “I’d like to know more about you.”
Again, he nods, then adjusts Loki on his lap so he can pivot to angle toward me. Seeing him be so gentle with my little dog makes me smile.
“Not many single women my age in Darling Creek,” he says.
