Page 9 of A Week To Wed
“That would be lovely. Then you can introduce me around town as your fiancée. Every girl in town will be jealous, I’m sure.”
The red that crept across his cheeks was the most telling thing I’d pulled out of Lincoln since I made him laugh on the way here yesterday.
“Well, goodnight,” he blurted, then shocked me by pulling me into his arms and kissing me flat on the forehead. Briefly, but softer than I thought the man would be capable of. Then he’d gone into his room, closed the door, and left me standing in the hallway, my hand on my chest.
ChapterFive
Maisy
I wake up Sunday, still burning from that kiss on the forehead.
It was the sweetest, most chaste kiss in the history of kisses. But it burned me deep inside, and I felt those lips on me all night as I lay awake in bed.
My room is bigger than I thought it would be. A queen-size bed takes up most of the room, with a pretty oak headboard that matches the dresser and bookshelf. At the foot of the bed, there’s a rustic bench with a basket full of bathroom things—lotions, shower gel, bubble bath. Someone went to some trouble to make me feel welcome.
Lincoln doesn’t want me to explore the area alone on a Sunday, but a girl can only do so much on the internet.
Surprisingly, I make some headway. Of course, most of the places that are open for business today are in Bozeman. After stopping by the caterer I’d spoken to yesterday on the phone to make a deposit, I drop in on a few dress shops and a party supply store to pick up some items that tickle my fancy.
The Bronco is fun to drive, and while I’m blasting my music on the drive between Bozeman and Darling Creek, with shopping bags full of party supplies and decorations, I panic.
“Music! Oh no!”
Do I hire a live band or go with a deejay?
Maybe someone in town will have some ideas. It’s time that I meet people, anyway. I can’t be cooped up all day alone at the ranch.
I stuff down the niggling thought that my dislike of feeling alone on a ranch might not bode well for my future as a rancher’s wife. No need to muddy the waters with facts.
In the town of Darling Creek, I discover that Lincoln is entirely correct about nothing being open on a Sunday. There’s a florist and a bakery on Main Street, but both storefronts are dark. The small supermarket on the corner is bustling, with about seven cars in the parking lot. I should pick up a few items for the ranch while I’m here. Why not make myself useful for other things while I’m fruitlessly galavanting about town on wedding business?
As I wander around the squat shelves of primarily dry goods, I realize I will have to buy something. Everyone in here is looking at me like they know I’m new.
Might as well make a good first impression, right?
So, I begin to fill up my cart with one of everything. Or two of everything. Two bags of potatoes, two bags of celery, two standing rib roasts, and two cases of toilet paper.
When I reach the cashier, a woman who appears to be about ten years older than Lincoln scans my items.
“Did you find everything you’re looking for today?” she asks, looking over my bursting shopping buggy.
“If I didn’t find it, you don’t have it,” I say with a wink.
She laughs, then introduces herself. “I’m Trudy. You must be Lincoln’s little gal from Texas.”
A little taken aback, I nod my head slowly. “Yes, I’m Maisy Milliken.”
“Oh, I heard all about you. Harley mentioned you and Lincoln met online a while ago and that you were just a peach of a girl.”
I nod. “Harley’s a sweet man.”
At this, Trudy blushes. I make a mental note to tease Harley about this; she obviously has a little crush on him.
“That he is. It all made sense when Harley said he’d met a Texas girl. That Lincoln has had a much better disposition these last couple of weeks.”
I’m surprised to hear this. “He has?”
I realize that all this chatter is causing Trudy to scan my groceries at a turtle’s pace, but I don’t mind. I’ve got nowhere else to be but here.
