“But if I was dead, I wouldn’t.”
“I’d still love you if I was dead,” he retorted, trailing a hand along her hip and causing her to shiver.
“Okay, you two, it’s fun watching you almost making out and everything, but can we get going?” Spencer asked from where he lounged on the seat, Gracie beside him.
Cole moved to captain the boat and Sara walked toward Lincoln. The boat lurched forward as it accelerated, Sara grabbing the ledge to steady herself. She adjusted the yellow swim shorts as she neared him, tightening the straps of the turquoise bikini top. He didn’t look at her as she approached, his cool gaze trained ahead.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, sitting in the seat next to him.
Lincoln glanced at her. “I was scared out of mind, Sara, when you went under and I couldn’t see you. I—“
“Earth to Sara.” She ran into Lincoln’s chest, his hands steadying her as he set her back. “Sleepwalking again?”
She shrugged, her face burning. I don’t know what I would have done if anything had happened to you. That’s what he’d said. She hadn’t wanted to think about what it could have or could not have meant at the time. Sara wasn’t inclined to think about it that much now either. And yet…why had he brought up that day? Was he trying to tell her something without telling her something? Was she looking into it too much? Did he want her to remember what he’d said? Did Lincoln remember what he’d said?
“Why that day, Lincoln?” she pressed. An icy sharp wind started, tousling her hair around her face. Sara impatiently pushed it behind her ears, not letting Lincoln look away.
His neck convulsed as he swallowed. But he didn’t look away. Lincoln’s eyes were zeroed in on hers, looking at her in a way that made pressure form in her chest. “That was the day things changed for me.”
“Meaning?”
Lincoln finally looked away, tapping a pad of paper against his thigh. “Do you remember what I said to you, after it happened?”
Sara wasn’t prone to lying. She didn’t like being lied to and she didn’t like doing it to others. He was so intense, so still as he waited, like what she said mattered astronomically to him. Lie, Sara. For him. For you. Lie.
She opened her mouth—
“Yoo hoo! Mr. Walker!” a short, stout lady with graying blond hair called, waving from the barn entrance. She had on paint-splattered jeans and a blue flannel jacket.
Lincoln sucked in a lungful of air, giving Sara a wry glance. “There’s the possible client. Better say hello.”
He strode toward the middle-aged woman and Sara followed, frowning at the realization that she didn’t think she could lie to Lincoln. Not about something that seemed so important to him. Not about anything.
14
She found him by the stream at the back of the house. It was still winter, but March was on the horizon and that let Sara think maybe the snow wouldn’t linger too much longer. Still, she was glad for her winter coat, gloves, and boots as she made her way through the foot of packed dirty snow. Spindly trees surrounded them, caked with white. The sun was behind clouds, casting grayness to the air that Sara imagined would resemble her heart if it were to be cut open. Icy, gloomy, numb; that was her. Broken. Splintered. Oozing sorrow like a shallow wound oozed blood. Only her wound wasn’t shallow; it was bone deep, right into the marrow.
Lincoln’s head was uncovered and the gentle breeze played with his dark waves. He wore jeans, boots, and a black sweatshirt. His head was down and she wondered what he was thinking about. Her eyes drank in the sight of his strong frame. He was more muscular than his brother had been; taller.
“Did you get the job?” Sara asked his back.
He slowly turned, no surprise showing on his face at her presence. She was sure he’d known she was near; he always seemed to know when she was close. Lincoln’s eyes went up the length of her until they connected with hers. Heat swept through her and Sara crossed her arms, looking at the slowly trickling stream of water. Most of it was frozen, but there were patches where water weaved through the ice.
“Of course I got the job.” His tone wasn’t arrogant, simply matter-of-fact.
“So…what are you doing?” Sara asked, not sure what to say. Just his nearness had put a crack in the numbness that was her. Maybe that was why she’d ended up at his place when she’d decided to go for an aimless drive. Lincoln was able to take the emotionlessness away.
“I’m wondering if I have it in me to swim across the massive body of water before me.”
The stream was about six feet in width. Sara looked at it and couldn’t help the snort of humor. Lincoln was taller than it was long. “I don’t know, Lincoln. I’m not sure you’re up to it.”
“Are you saying you doubt my masculinity?”
“You could just lie across it and call it good.”