11. Josie
josie
. . .
Lincoln Carter.
I’d never stayed long enough to learn his last name, which seemed silly considering I’d spent five fucking days glued to his side, but it fit him. The name was strong. It reminded me of something from those old Western films my grandparents watched.
The day I left, I’d cried a river of tears until the Texas state line, but since then, I’d refused to think about him. For the most part, I’d done a good job, but occasionally, I’d cross paths with something that would remind me of him.
It was why I removed every candle containing pine or leather from my house, throwing them out or giving them to my sisters.
And other days, I spent obsessing over what could have been.
But the moments were fleeting. The hurt would lessen when I woke up the next day, and I’d move on as though he’d never crossed my mind.
How could I do that if he was here? In my home, in my sanctuary?
For the most part, Lincoln hadn’t changed. His dark stubble had grown into a trimmed beard where specks of grey seemed more pronounced. When he smiled, the lines around his eyes seemed more defined, but maybe they’d always been there, and I hadn’t noticed.
It was his clothes that threw me off. When we’d spent time together, he lived in a uniform of dark, fitted t-shirts and relaxed jeans. Sometimes, he’d hide his unruly black hair under a baseball cap. But this Lincoln was different. I’d jokingly called him ‘cowboy’, but he looked every bit the part standing in front of me. He wore a black button-down tucked into starched jeans and a light grey felt cowboy hat on his head.
Those goddamn hats.
“Josie?” my dad asked, pulling me from my downward spiral. “You okay, sugar? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
I opened my mouth, trying and failing to form words because what the fuck could I say? “Hi Dad, sorry I’m shocked to find the guy I spent five incredible days with standing in my front yard because I left him with nothing more than an ‘I’m sorry’ scribbled on a piece of paper I found on his counter?”
But Lincoln cut in, his deep, velvet-like voice sending shivers down my spine. “We met briefly when Josie was in Tennessee last year. She stopped by Frank’s bar before heading to y’all’s cabin.” He stared at me while he spoke, those chocolate brown eyes I’d fantasized so much about sweeping over me in a way that felt wholly inappropriate given the company. He took off his hat, reaching forward to shake my hand like he hadn’t just turned my life upside down. “Nice to see you again, darlin’.”
“Oh,” Dad laughed. “Might want to steer away?—”
“Yup, nice to see you, too.” I didn’t let Dad finish his sentence, and I didn’t shake Lincoln’s hand. Instead, I turned to my sister. “Cleo, can I talk to you for a second?”
Without waiting for her answer, I grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her to the front door of the house. Dad called out something to our backs, but I couldn’t hear him over the roaring in my ears.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Cleo said, digging in her heels as we stepped inside. “What the hell was that?”
I began pacing back and forth in front of her, chewing on my nails like I used to do as a child. “ That ,” I said, pointing out the front door, “is a huge fucking problem.”
“Why?” she asked. “Do you have the hots for the cowboy?” When I didn’t answer, responding only with a glare, she laughed. “Oh god, you do, don’t you?”
“I don’t have the hots for him,” I snapped. “He was why I ran from Tennessee and never looked back!”
She sobered, the smile she’d been sporting dropping instantly. “Oh shit.”
“What are we ‘oh shitting’?” Lennox asked, strolling in from the garage with a travel mug in her hand.
“Josie’s Tennessee fling is Dad’s new trainer,” Cleo said, sinking into our mom’s worn leather armchair.
I’d briefly told my sisters about what had happened in Tennessee, safely avoiding the fact that I’d begun falling for a man I’d only known for a few days.
“Oh shit,” Lennox parroted, looking between the two of us. She ran to the window and peeked outside while I hid behind my hands. “Hell yes, Josie! He is hot .”
“You two are not helping,” I groaned, falling back onto the matching couch. “How am I supposed to face him? To be around him?”
Lennox sat down beside me. “When’s the last time you talked to him?”
I blew out a breath, shame creeping in on all sides. “Oh, you know, when I snuck out of his bed and left him a note that said I was sorry. ”
“And he never called?” Cleo asked, leaning forward. “Seriously?”
I groaned. “No, he did. I ignored them.”
It had damn near killed me. Lincoln had called a few times a day for the first week after I’d left. I always checked for a voicemail, but they never came. It was better that way. If I’d heard his voice, I likely would’ve dropped everything and run back to him. But as the days flew by, his calls lessened, and I wondered if he’d moved on and forgotten about me.
“Why is he out here as a trainer when he was working as a bartender?”
“I don’t know, Cleo. We didn’t talk about his previous occupations before I jumped him.” She opened her mouth to ask something else, but I cut in. “And before you ask, the only other things I know about him are how he takes his coffee and how good he is in bed.”
My sisters were quiet for a moment before Lennox broke the silence. “ And ? How good is he?”
Nope. I didn’t want to think about how good Lincoln made me feel or the sheer number of orgasms he’d given me. I didn’t want to think about the way his rough, calloused hands had felt running over my body. And damn sure didn’t want to think about how those memories still carried me over the edge and back again.
I grabbed the pillow beside me, burying my face in the cushion before groaning loudly.
“I guess that means he’s pretty damn good…” Cleo mused, earning Lennox’s chime-like laughter.
“This isn’t funny, y’all. I don’t know what to do.”
“This is a second chance. You were miserable when you came home from Tennessee last year, moping around the house like someone had died,” Lennox said.
“But I’m in a–”
“Girls?” Dad called, opening the door. I whipped the pillow from my face, momentarily scared that Lincoln would be hiding behind our father. “What the hell are you three doing? We’ve got work to do.”
“Don’t worry about it, Daddy.” Cleo stood, walking toward him. Her eyes softened as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Where do you need us?”
My day was already a bust and things had barely begun. There were a number of things I needed to do in Dad’s office, including a stack of bills to pay, time sheets to finalize, and files to update.
Ellis had been helping me sort out some inconsistencies I’d noticed on the bank statements. Over the past year, we’d been short about ten thousand dollars a month. When I’d showed Dad, he’d waved it off as an oversight and had asked me to get the firm involved since they oversaw most of our accounts.
But Dad’s office was on the first floor of the barn, right next to Bishops. The location made my job easier overall, but that was before my father had brought in a bomb and thrown me for a loop.
Because Lincoln had been shadowing Bishop all morning. They’d gone in and out of his office countless times, and I couldn’t focus on a damn thing when he was near.
Instead, I’d remained glued to my dad’s hip since the moment I’d stepped back outside. He’d been annoyed at first, especially since he could run this clinic with his eyes closed. When he opened his mouth to argue, I’d told him Mom wanted me to keep an eye on him since she wasn’t going to be here to do it herself.
For all their teasing earlier, my sisters backed my little white lie so Dad didn’t question it. He knew our mom fussed over him, especially since his diagnosis, and would put up with my hovering if only to please her .
But the real reason was far more embarrassing. I couldn’t risk turning a corner and seeing Lincoln standing there as tempting and delicious as the first night I’d met him. It felt like he was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I was paranoid as hell, worried about what he’d do or say. Not that I cared about people knowing our history, however short it was.
I was more worried about the stupid fucking butterflies that had suckerpunched me right in the stomach when I’d come face to face with him.
You have Ellis, I reminded myself. He’s good for you. He’s responsible, respectable, and most importantly… local.
Not that watching Dad was a hardship. I’d always loved seeing him work. The only person who rivaled him for passion about Black Springs was Bishop, which is why the ranch ran like a well-oiled machine.
Growing up, it’d been a joke that Dad was a horse whisperer, but I never realized how true that was until I got older and knew what to watch for. It was an instantaneous connection. Somehow, he just looked into the animal’s eyes and knew what they needed and how he could give it to them. It wasn’t easy to pass that on to someone else, to show them how to pick up on the little signs here and there.
He’d always told me if he could give someone even a fraction of that insight, he’d have considered his life well lived.
Arrival day at the clinic was always hectic, but it was also my favorite. It was a perfect introduction to the people we were hosting for the next two weeks. Every ranch employee was on duty as my dad and I walked around and greeted the influx of trucks and trailers. My sisters showed guests to their cabins while Bishop, Lincoln, and the hands unloaded the horses and housed them in their new stalls for the next two weeks.
Tonight, there’d be a cookout for guests and workers—a chance for everyone to unwind and familiarize themselves with their surroundings. Time and time again, it proved to be entertaining. Sometimes, it’d get rowdy, and I’d enjoy watching as people would drag their feet the following day since the first class began with the rising sun.
Though, I didn’t know if I’d be staying to take part.
If it were any other year, I would’ve moved back to my parent’s house for the next two months to be nearby in case I was needed. These clinics were all-hands-on-deck kind of events. Even before I started working for Dad, I was always around to pick up on our daily chores that might have fallen by the wayside.
But Dad had specifically hired more help this year, so we didn’t have to worry about that happening. The work was split evenly amongst the staff, rotating every two weeks with each new clinic.
My packed bags sat in the backseat of my truck, judging myself and the mess I’d inadvertently gotten into. Lincoln would be housed with the rest of the hired staff in one of the cabins near the barn, putting a solid stretch of land between where he’d rest his head and where I’d rest mine.
But was it enough?
The sun began its descent, and our work finished for the day. Staff moved across the empty space past the barn where the cabins sat in neat lines. Mom and Dad had built a giant fire pit outfitted with a covered patio and grills. The familiar scent of burning wood and grilled meats wafted toward the main house, making my mouth water.
I’d barely eaten all day. If not for Dad, I likely wouldn’t have stopped at all. Keeping busy was the only thing stopping my mind from wandering to the stables where a handsome cowboy had been most of the day.
“It never gets old,” my dad said, sidling up beside me. I was leaning over the fence post, staring at the ranch I loved so much. The grass was taller than we usually let it get for June. It’d been an unusually wet spring, so we’d held off on cutting the first batch of hay for the season, but we wouldn’t be able to put it off much longer.
It didn’t mean the sight wasn’t damn pretty.
There were no hills or rolling mountains as our backdrop. Black Springs Ranch was damn near as flat as it could be, but it was still the most beautiful land I’d ever seen. Maybe I was biased. Maybe it was because this land was mine, and I was born with that love in my heart.
But there was something about being able to see the rising and setting sun in its entirety that I loved. My great-grandparents had planted clusters of trees along the property—perfectly hidden groves that had been our favorite places to hide growing up.
“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed. These quiet moments were rare, especially on days like these. It was why I had no intention of moving, not until my father broke the silence.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when this is over. I don’t know how to move on from something I dedicated my life to.” When his voice broke on the last word, he tried to cover it up with a cough, but it was too late.
I heard the hurt, heavy behind every word, the hesitation and fear of the future and what lies ahead.
“Bishop is already primed to take over the ranch, Daddy,” I said, gentling my voice. “You’ve taught him well.”
“What about these clinics?” he asked, lacing his hands together. “People depend on them. Hell, the animals do, too. Half of these horses would’ve been sold or traded off—labeled as a problem when it’s really their owners not knowing their heads from their asses.”
I didn’t have an answer. No one could match my dad’s natural affinity for these animals or read them like he could.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said, leaning on his shoulder. “But until then, we’ll enjoy the moments we have left.”
He hummed but said nothing more about his future or career prospects. Instead, he steered the conversation toward much more precarious topics. “You haven’t brought your bags into the house.”
“I haven’t had time,” I said, lifting my foot so it rested on the lowest fence rail. “You’ve kept me busy.”
“Bullshit,” he laughed. “Is it that boyfriend of yours?”
Dad wasn’t too keen on Ellis. Sure, he thought he was friendly and respectable enough, but my father was adamant that no man alive was good enough for any of his girls.
Even after five years, he still hated Cleo’s husband. To be fair, I didn’t much care for the man, either.
While Ellis had grown up in our little small town where you couldn’t step foot in an establishment without running into a rancher, he’d never been a part of that life. He’d never ridden a horse or herded cattle. His hands were smooth and unblemished, and he had never known a day of hard labor.
Mom and Dad had both been shocked when I told them we were dating. Ellis was nothing like my past boyfriends, which is one of the reasons I’d been incentivized to say yes. Clearly, chasing cowboys wasn’t doing me any favors.
“What would Ellis have anything to do with it?”
Dad shrugged. “I don’t know. Two months is a long time to be apart.”
I laughed. “Well, it isn’t like we’re an ocean away. A thirty-minute drive into town isn’t a deal-breaker.”
“Is he coming out here tonight, then? To the cookout?”
“I don’t know. He said he’d try,” I mumbled, looking down at my worn leather boots. In the beginning, Ellis had come out to the ranch all the time, but as his client list had grown, he’d had less time to spend long days in Dad’s office. Since we’d started dating, he’d only been out to the ranch once.
It wasn’t the best feeling, seeing how important Black Springs was to me. When my dad had invited him out for one of our weekly family dinners, Ellis had asked if we could meet in town .
Dad wasn’t too happy about that.
“There’re good places to hide a body on the ranch,” Dad had told me. I had laughed while his face remained stoic and unchanged.
As the silence settled, I could tell there was more he wanted to say, but mercifully, he kept quiet. I’d been listening to his lectures on relationship etiquette since he’d found out about my first kiss at thirteen.
“Doug!”
My dad and I both turned to see Bishop walking toward us. His faded grey cowboy hat had seen better days, but he didn’t care. Bishop was a simple man who lived a simple life. He drove the same ‘99 Dodge that he had since my dad bought it for him, and his wardrobe consisted of Wranglers, square-toed boots, and plain t-shirts.
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen him deviate from his everyday routine in the past twenty years, and he’d bitched about it the entire time.
But my gaze snagged on the shadow behind him. A shadow I’d know anywhere.
“Bishop,” my dad greeted, shaking his hand. “Everything prepped for tonight?”
Bishop nodded once. “Yup. Cook said dinner will be ready in about an hour, so I thought I’d take Lincoln into town to grab some beer.”
“Probably a good idea,” my dad said. “Need a hand?”
I felt Lincoln’s eyes on me, burning a hole into my side profile, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. How was I supposed to get through the next two months if I couldn’t even look at the man? How could I stay on this ranch, walking on eggshells, until he finally packed up and went home to Tennessee?
“Why? You offering, old man?” Bishop’s gaze flicked to me, and I subtly shook my head. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Dad needed to rest.
“Yeah, give me a?—”
“Dad, why don’t you give me a hand with my bags?” I asked, pushing off the pipe fence. “I’m sure these boys can take care of a beer run, right?”
This time, I let my gaze travel over Bishop’s shoulder, where Lincoln’s eyes remained fixed on me. His jaw was set in a hard line, likely aching for how hard he held himself back.
I wasn’t sure when I’d made the decision to stay. There would be no avoiding Lincoln Carter forever, but I didn’t need to.
I just needed to get through the next two months.