Read My Lips: Restricted Version

RML: Chapter 5 (R)

Chapter Five


“Linc?” Elizabeth Martin called as he crossed the yard to the house.  Linc stopped and turned to face his mother.  “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek as she came to a halt in front of him.  His mother was a petite, dear lady, and Linc still found it strange that he’d been seeing clear over her head since he’d been fourteen.  Because the frown she gave him right then made him feel like a three-year-old.

“Then why are you attacking the bridesmaids?”

Linc sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I never touched her, I swear.  She’s pissed about me meeting her sister.”

“Just meeting?” his mother asked, not believing him.

“Um...well, I might have had some words with Amber,” Linc admitted, not really wanting to disclose all the information to his momma.  Elizabeth had an odd sense of honor.  She’d take up for her eldest son in a heartbeat, but she’d also whip his butt all the way to Chicago and back if she thought he was being rude to anyone...and it wouldn’t matter if that anyone stole from him.

“That sweet, deaf girl?” she questioned with appall, and then her gray eyes narrowed considerably.  “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do nuthin’,” he grumbled, slouching a bit.  

She snorted.  “You always say that when you’re guilty of something.  I swear, Lincoln Thomas Martin!  You are too long in the tooth to be acting this way.  You admit to what you’ve done right now, young man!”

Now, Linc snorted.  “Young man?  I thought I was too long in the tooth.”

“Never you mind,” she said in that mother voice.  Linc hated that voice.  It reminded him of the time when he’d been seven and kept eating the plums out of her favorite tree and she didn’t get to can her infamous plum jelly that year.  Oh, when she figured out it was him, and not the horses pilfering her fruit, she’d been mad enough to pop a vein.  

He’d gotten a stomach ache from all those plums, but Elizabeth Martin made him peel and core the six bushels of apples for her pie filling before she showed any sympathy toward him.  Said it served him right.  

Of course, later that night, she served her raisin nut scones as dessert...and piled an extra dollop of homemade cream on his, winking at him and smiling as she did.

Wonder if she remembered that? he thought while tuning out her next words about him acting like a child and disturbing his brother’s happiest day with his foul temper and foolish behavior.  After a second, his attention was brought back by, “And to think that anyone would say something like that about that sweet girl...”

“What?” Linc asked suddenly.  “What sweet girl?”

“Amber, of course,” his mother exclaimed.  “I overhead that maggot, Mr. Nelson, saying how he’d like to...”  She raised up on her tiptoes and whispered, “‘Give her hands something else to do.’  Isn’t that just awful?  Why in the world did ya’ll hire that idiot?”

Linc’s jaw twitched.  Marcus Nelson said that, huh?  “He’s the only fiddle player Wil could get on such short notice, since Sally kept changing her mind about the music,” he commented vaguely through the roaring in his ears.  How dare he speak of Amber that way?

And why the hell did he care so much? The woman flattened him like a sheet of plywood slapping dirt.  She can take care of herself.  Linc didn’t have an answer for his sudden anger.  But he knew of a way to get rid of it.  “He still here?”

“Who?  Mr. Nelson?” his mother inquired.  She scanned his face...and pursed her lips.  “Oh no, you don’t.  I’ll not have you fighting at your brother’s wedding.  You’re supposed to be the Best Man, Linc...act like it, dammit!”  And she turned on her red boot heels and stomped away.

His momma cussing took the fire right out of him.  Her little dulcet voice, taking on such crass words like dammit and the occasional ass and hell, made him smile every time.  And since he’d been forbidden from punching Marcus for his remarks about Amber, he strolled up the hill to his house, hoping to hide away from a few minutes.  

Linc entered the back door, took the stairs two at a time and entered his bedroom.  This had been one heck of an interesting day, that was for sure.  Yeah, it was supposed to be a happy day for Wil and Sally, yet he’d been the one to start most of the commotion.  He’d gotten himself drunk again, managed to piss off a set of sisters, and got bitched at in sign language.  He stood there, staring down at his boots, not feeling very proud of himself and thinking of Amber’s slender hands flying at him in silent words of cursing...and a smile inched his way onto his mouth.

He’d never been called an asshole without words before.  And Amber looked so furious and...cute doing it.  Yeah, cute.  Not the best description for a grown woman of twenty-eight -- he still couldn’t believe that -- but she was cute.  With her pink mouth and bare feet and tangled hair.

Twenty-eight, huh?  She was only a few years younger than Macie when she died, but he and Macie had been just seven years apart.  Not much, considering how deeply he loved her.  There was a twelve-year difference between him and Amber.

But there had only been a four-inch difference between his mouth and her mouth there for a moment.  Where were the twelve years then?  Where was the decade-plus-two when he stared at her tempting, adorable lips and seriously thought about tasting them?

And why the hell did it matter?  He should think about something else, something less dangerous...what was that other thing she called him?  

Linc turned to a mirror above his dresser and mimicked the motion that had been plastered to the back of his skull ever since Amber went Amazonian on his ass.  She had balled her fist and thumped the fleshy part of her hand against her forehead.  What did that mean?  And that other thing?  The hand-waving one with the fingers off the palm...

He turned on his laptop and looked for a website to help him translate Amber’s angry signs.  But without anything more than his memory to go on, he couldn’t figure it out.  Then he saw a site that taught the observer how to insult someone in sign language.  After ten minutes of looking, he sat back and grinned.

Stupid.  She called him stupid.

That kind, gentle creature had a mean streak in her.  After a little more searching and more of an idea on what to look for, he also found out that when she stood over him, with her foot digging into his throat the second time -- the time she called him stupid -- she’d told him, You never learn, you never learn...stupid, stupid.

Linc watched more video clips of the online signing instructor, signing phrases and words, and he tried his best to copy them.  It was kind of fun.  After a while, his eyes began to hurt, and he was forced to pull out his glasses.  Damn things.  Just another reminder of how old he was getting.  But the eye doctor said he was getting far-sighted, so if he planned to resume much of his favorite hobbies -- reading, mostly -- he’d need the glasses.  

Linc didn’t notice the time as he sat there, making clumsy attempts at a new language, until a knock sounded on his door.  He glanced out the window.  The sun began to set, casting a faint purplish glow over the horizon.

“Just a minute,” he called, powering off his computer.  Wil stood on the other side.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Linc answered and exhaled heavily.  “I’m sorry, Wil.  This was your wedding day, and I ruined it and...”

Wil chuckled.  “Don’t worry about it.  After Sally’s great-aunt faked that heart attack during the ceremony, the day only got more interesting.  Sally got her cake and ate it, too...a lot of it.”

Linc closed his door and the two brothers walked down the hall together.  At the top of the stairs, Linc stopped and faced Wil.  “Listen, Wil...I’m happy for you.  After all you’ve been through, you deserve a wonderful life with Sally.  She’s a great lady.”

“No,” Wil said, shaking his head sadly.  “I’ll have to disagree with that.  She’s the greatest lady.”  And Will smiled.  “She taught me how to laugh again.”

When was the last time I laughed?  Linc shook that thought away.  The last time had been today...with Amber.  The first time since Macie left him.  But Linc didn’t want to think about Amber right now.  

“Mom and Dad still here?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yup,” Wil answered.  “They’re downstairs, gushing over baby magazines with Sally.”

“I guess, since you’re here and Sally’s down there, the party is over?”

“Just about,” Wil said, heading down the stairs.  “The guests have left, and most of the bridesmaids and groomsmen.”

Linc stopped about three stairs down.  “Most?  Not all?”

Wil stopped, too, and turned, resting his hand on the banister.  “No, not all,” he said, grinning.  “Chloe and her sister are still here, helping to clean up the stable.  The baby’s gone though.  Daniel took him back to the hotel.  Thank goodness.  I do hope my child isn’t that loud.”

He trotted down the rest of the way.  “I’m kind of glad that Amber and Chloe are still here.  It’ll give you a chance to go apologize to the both of them.”

Linc halted once again.  “You said it was fine.”

“It’s fine with me, and it’s fine with Sally,” Wil said, “but Chloe is friends with Sally, and one day in the future they’ll come over for their weekly gal-pal night, and Chloe will remember than I’m your brother and start in how much she hates you and she’s ecstatic that Amber called you an asshole, and because I’m your brother, I’ll have to defend you, and Sally will take Chloe’s side, and then we’ll get into an argument over your childish behavior.”  He paused to take a breath.  “I really don’t want to fight with my wife more than necessary, so take your forty-year-old, mature ass down to the stable and humbly begged for those ladies’ forgiveness.”

Wil pivoted on his boot heel and disappeared into the kitchen, where Sally’s laugh rang out, accompanied by his mother’s.  Linc sighed.  Fine.  I’ll say one “I’m sorry,” and leave it at that.

He peeked into the kitchen -- stalling -- and saw his family gathered around the table, pouring through the “Pottery Barn Kids” catalogue, oohing and awwing over baby bedding and nursery decorations.  He heard his mother say, “I do wish you would find out what you’re having...I’d like an idea on what things to shop for.”

Linc grinned and turned away.  His momma was over the moon about that baby in Sally’s belly.  As the first grandchild, she’d been buying little booties and stuffed animals and all kinds of powdery smelling articles for it, not really sticking to a specific gender because Sally and Wil wanted to be surprised.  Then Linc remembered that Wil’s child shouldn’t be the first grandchild -- his should have been -- and his mood got sour again.

Macie had been pregnant when she died.  Linc didn’t find out until the autopsy.  But Wil had known...oh, yes, his little brother -- the one man who’d been there when she died and could have stopped Macie from getting on that horse -- knew about Macie’s baby.  He’d forgiven Wil for Macie’s death, but his unborn child?

Never.

It was a painful burden to carry around.  Linc loved his brother, even saved Wil and Sally from being murdered by Sally’s ex-fiance, but he didn’t have it in him to forgive and forget that one thing.  And then, they all wondered why he acted the way he did.  Childish?  Was that even possible for someone my age?

I’m forty years old, dammit.  I can act however the hell I want to!

However, that won’t get him off the hook on apologizing to Chloe and Amber.  He exited the house and shuffled his boots along the dirt path to his stable, kicking at patches of grass that got in his way.  

“Chloe, I’m sorry,” he practiced on his way.  “Amber, I’m sorry.”  Easy enough.  Maybe if he was lucky, he could say it to Amber’s back and scurry away afterward.  Chloe, though...he had a bad feeling she was going to bleed him dry with dissension and a selfish attitude, and get every drop of absolution out of his mouth.

Sighing heavily, he squinted as he entered the darker interior of the stable.  Amber worked to clear the buffet table, scooping up the leftovers into plastic bowls and piling the serving dishes in the crates left by the caterers.  Her back was to him.  Good.

Shit, not good.  Chloe saw him enter and sent him an icy glare.  “What do you want?”

He filled his lungs, ready for the words he’d already practiced, but Amber chose that moment to sample one of the frosted divinity cookies, and he lost some of his brain functions as he watched her stick her finger inside her mouth and suck the icing off.

That mouth.

With her finger still inside, attached to her tongue, she saw him and turned.  Her blue eyes widened and the finger came out with a delicate pop.  

“Well?” Chloe asked, stepping in his line of sight, her hands on her hips.  “What do you want?”

“Huh?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off Amber.  She flushed a pretty pink and turned away.  Ribbons of her dark hair fell past her shoulders, nearly brushing the belt of that bag she wore, and Linc got an unholy urge to tangle his fingers in it, dragging her to the nearest horizontal surface, and...

“Hey!”  Chloe punched him in the arm, breaking his fantasy.  

“Ow!” he grumbled, rubbing the sore spot.  “What the hell was that for?”

“Stop looking at my sister like that,” she ordered.  “You stay away from her.”

“Listen,” he said in a deep, dangerous voice.  “I came down here to apologize to you, but if this is the reaction I’ll get, then you forget about it.”

“I don’t want your apology,” she returned.  “I just want your promise that you’ll leave my sister alone.  She’s not prepared for jerks like you gushing all over her.”

Linc laughed.  “I’m pretty sure your sister can handle just about any jerk that gushes all over her.”

“Just as long as it’s not you.”

“You know...you’re really starting to piss me off.”

Chloe gave him an evil smile.  “Better to be pissed off than pissed on.”

“Look, if you don’t want my apology--”

“I haven’t heard one yet,” she sneered.

Linc breathed in and let it out as calmly as he could under the circumstances.  “I”m sorry,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

She grinned.  “For what?”

“Never mind.”  Linc went around her to go over to Amber.  After two steps, he had to skid to a stop.  Chloe planted herself in front of him.  “Now what?”

“Where are you going?”

“To apologize to your sister,” he explained darkly.

“You stay away from my sister.”

Linc bent down and got right in her face.  “Make me.”  She pursed her lips and considered his threat.  Finally, she wisely decided to let it go and moved aside.  “I thought so,” he said and approached Amber from behind.

“If you don’t say it to her face, it doesn’t count,” Chloe said behind him.  Linc closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Then he sidestepped and got up in front of Amber.  She didn’t see him coming and jumped right out of her skin, dropping a glass bowl.  It shattered...and Chloe laughed uproariously.

“Jerk,” she muttered clearly and went back to her work.  

Amber blinked at the pieces of glass at her feet, and then looked up at him, her mouth turning down in a frown.

“Shit,” Linc said as he bent to gather the glass.  “Sorry about that.”

She crouched next to him and tilted her head to peer into his face.  Dang it.  He’d forgotten he had to look at her for her to understand him.  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She smiled.  “That’s okay,” she said in her unskilled voice, muffling the K sound in okay.  But her fingers flashed O and K as she spoke.  Linc’s gaze was latched to her mouth as his own hands automatically groped around for broken bowl pieces.  She had the prettiest smile, too.  Linc couldn’t recall being this fascinated with Macie’s mouth.  Macie had a great smile, one that lit up her entire face, but not like this.  Amber’s transformed her.

“Sonofabitch!” he roared as a sharp edge sliced his flesh.  That’s what he got for not paying attention and staring at Amber’s smile.

Blood oozed out from the clean, deep cut across palm, from the wrist to the web between his thumb and finger.  Amber’s beguiling mouth rounded out in an O when she noticed the wound.  Hastily she grabbed a napkin off the table and pressed it into his palm.  Linc winced and sucked in a breath.

He’d been punched around, kicked and cut more times that he could count in his lifetime...but Lincoln Martin never had much of a tolerance for pain.  He’d curse a blue streak and put some ice on it and go about his day, but inside he was usually sobbing like a two-year-old.

Amber’s eyes spied his discomfort and pierced him sympathy.  “Okay?” she asked hesitantly.

Fuck! NO!    “I’m fine.  It’s just a little cut.”

She lifted the blood-soaked napkin and peered at the “little cut.”  Then she shook her head.  With her fingers pinched together, she made a movement like sewing a needle through fabric.  Linc understood.

“Nah, I don’t need stitches.  I’ll put a bandage on it later.”

She huffed and repeated the sewing motion.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.  Amber sat back on her haunches and studied him.  She flipped open her bag and pulled out a pink notepad and purple pen.  Ah, we’ve been reduced to written communication.  She scrawled something on the paper, ripped it off and handed it to him.  Linc noticed her handwriting first off ..slanted and flowery...girly.  Without his glasses, he had to hold the note at arm’s length to read it.

You NEED stitches.

“No, I don’t.”

She huffed again and nodded her head emphatically.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, trying like hell to keep the ire out of his voice, though why would that matter?  She couldn’t hear his emphasis on certain words.

Amber slapped her notepad on the ground and glared at him.  Maybe she could sense the emphasis.  Her hands moved like lightening.  Linc blinked rapidly, trying to see everything, but he didn’t understand anymore than the stupid she shot at him.

Somehow, he figured out that she really wasn’t talking to him anyway, just venting.  Mainly, because she kept rolling her eyes and getting her expressions into the message.  He read those clearly.  She was frustrated with him.  He sure did have a way with women today, huh?

Finally, he shook his head and grabbed one of her wrists with his good hand.  She stopped bitching at him.  “You know I don’t understand a thing you’re signing, right?”

She stared at him for the longest moment.  Wrestling her wrist free, she leaned closer.  “Read...my...lips,” she said slowly and very clearly.  “You.”  She thumped him in the chest.  “Stupid cow--boy.”  

Linc grinned.  ‘Yeah, I guess I am.”

Slowly, her irritation faded, and a faint smile appeared.  Linc marveled at her.  If they’d met in another lifetime, he might have liked her very well.  She had spunk.  And yes, some sweetness in her.  But as it was, her sister would snip off his little cowpoke if he so much as attempted to flirt with her...and he was still mourning Macie.

He couldn’t like Amber.

He should go ahead and apologize for the way he treated her earlier and get away from her.  He drew up to a stand, and she followed, frowning with wary curiosity at him.  “Listen, Amber,” he began, and then mentally slapped himself for starting that way.  “Um...well...”

She cocked her head to the side.

He rubbed the back of his neck...and winced as he felt his wounded hand throb from the nervous motion.  Damn it.  Now he had blood on his neck.  Linc sighed and wrapped another napkin around his palm.  Amber tsked.

“Okay...here’s the deal,” he said.  “I’m sorry for jumping down your throat about the book.  It was...um...stupid of me.  And childish, I guess...”

She nodded in agreement.

“And...your sister told me you moved up here for a new job?”

Ah, hell...shut up now, Linc.  Amber crinkled her forehead and glanced in Chloe’s direction.  Gingerly, she nodded again.

“Well...”  No, don’t say it...don’t you dare...  “Um, if you ever need anything...”

She blinked, dismayed.  Linc couldn’t finish the rest of his sentence...his peace offering, of sorts.  He already said he wasn’t babysitting her.  He wasn’t supposed to spend any extra time with her at all.  He wasn’t supposed to like her at all.

But...he did.

He liked her...and her mouth.  A lot.  Shit fire and save matches!

“Well...you know where I live,” he finished lamely and walked away from her as quickly as his forty-year-old, mature ass could carry him.

Chloe smirked as he strode passed her.