Read Online Finding Stefanie by Susan May Warren - Free Book Online

really trying—to put a soft tone in his voice.
    No one said anything.
    Swell . “Listen, why am I the bad guy here? I’m just saying, the kid burned down my house. Where I’m from, that’s a crime.”
    “I’ll fix it.”
    This, mumbled from Gideon, hit Lincoln square in the absurd bone. He couldn’t help letting out a burst of laughter that didn’t in the least resemble humor, expect perhaps a crazed Jack Nicholson–in– The Shining kind of humor. Maybe the drugs the doctor had given Lincoln affected his ability to control his emotions, but with everything inside him, he wanted to leap on this skinny kid and strangle him.
    “Right,” he said instead, ignoring how the kid flinched. “Let me get the tool kit from my luggage. We’ll get started on it tonight. Because I forgot my tent and my sleeping bag, thinking that maybe I might have a place to sleep tonight.”
    Liar . But Lincoln delivered the line with such rancor that even he believed he had intended to bunk down in John Kincaid’s three-bedroom modular home, maybe build a campfire in the living room and dine on a package of cold ramen noodles.
    “Oh, please,” Stefanie sneered, one hand on her hip, apparently using her killer X-ray vision to see right through him. “Like you were really going to stay here. It doesn’t have satin sheets or a mint for your pillow. Oh, and furniture or appliances, for that matter.”
    And here, when he’d met her, he thought Stefanie Noble quiet. Even docile. Clearly she was the one who deserved the Oscar. If this reception was any indication, he’d read every happy, pleasant vibe he’d picked up last summer entirely wrong.
    Fine. He didn’t expect everyone in the world to love him. Not really. However, even if he had been a little over the top with his response, he didn’t deserve both barrels. His house was on fire. He had feelings too.
    Lincoln folded his arms over his chest, thankful that his hand didn’t shake for once. “It’s true; I’d forgotten the warm and friendlyPhillips hospitality, but obviously the law has changed. What, is this the let-bygones-be-bygones form of justice? Or maybe just, ‘Hey, let the rich guy pay for it. He’s got the dough.’”
    Stefanie also crossed her arms, not rattled in the least by his throwing out the truth. Instead a smile—and he put it solidly in the category of nasty—raised one side of her mouth. “That sounds about right, Mr. Cash .”
    Lincoln stared at her, everything inside him hollow. He’d wanted to hide, not be trampled into the soil. So he held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sweetheart. My fault for thinking that a guy might get a fair shake here. Sadly, I’m fresh out of fifties. And a house, it looks like. I guess I’ll just go find a tree to put my bedroll under.”
    “Lincoln—,” Nick started.
    Stefanie cut him off. “I think there’s a big cottonwood over in Idaho.”
    They’d attracted a small crowd. Or, given the population of Phillips, a large one. But enough murmuring and unrest rippled through it to evoke the Old West traditions of lynching and being run out of town on a rail. Lincoln had seen enough Westerns to know that wasn’t his preferred method of deportation.
    Besides, he needed this town on his side if he hoped to sweet-talk them into spiffing up the place for his purposes. Maybe fixing—or installing—sidewalks, replacing the green road sign that announced Phillips with a real Western-looking carved sign that gave the place some class. Perhaps even adding another restaurant.
    Stymied, he turned and surveyed the wreckage of his house. The fire had died to spitting flames and simmering embers. Thankfully the barn, which had been rebuilt less than five years ago, still stood, as did the rest of the outbuildings. He’d already talked to acontractor about revamping the barn to create a theater. He’d have to track the man down and have him rearrange the schedule to work on the house first. Lincoln hadn’t seriously