Книга - From This Moment On

From This Moment On
Debbi Rawlins


Cowboy and lady-magnet Trace McAllister has a problem… and she's petite, with almond-shaped eyes and a body that makes his libido beg for mercy. Sure, the Sundance Dude Ranch has attracted a bevy of gorgeous townie women. But not one draws him in like sexy little Nikki Flores.Nikki isn’t looking to play games with some good-lookin’ charmer of a cowboy. She knows better–or should. Besides, she’s only in Blackfoot Falls long enough to figure out her next move. And the last thing she needs is to get tied down… or tied up!But all they need is one moment–the moment when temptation takes over…












STILL CAN’T GET ENOUGH COWBOYS?


Popular Mills & Boon


Blaze


author Debbi Rawlins keeps readers in the saddle with her continuing miniseries

Made in Montana

Since the McAllisters opened a dude ranch catering to single women,

the sleepy town of Blackfoot Falls has gotten a lot more interesting…

Get your hands on a hot cowboy with

BAREFOOT BLUE JEAN NIGHT

OWN THE NIGHT

ON A SNOWY CHRISTMAS NIGHT

YOU’RE STILL THE ONE

NO ONE NEEDS TO KNOW

FROM THIS MOMENT ON

And remember, the sexiest cowboys are Made in Montana!




About the Author


DEBBI RAWLINS grew up in the country with no fast-food drive-throughs or nearby neighbors, so one might think as a kid she’d be dazzled by the bright lights of the city, the allure of the unfamiliar. not so. She loved westerns in movies and books, and her first crush was on a cowboy—okay, he was an actor in the role of a cowboy, but she was only eleven, so it counts. it was in Houston, Texas, where she first started writing for Mills & Boon, and now, more than fifty books later, she has her own ranch…of sorts. instead of horses, she has four dogs, five cats, a trio of goats and free-range cattle keeping her on her toes on a few acres in gorgeous rural utah. And of course, the deer and elk are always welcome.




From This Moment On


Debbi Rawlins






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is for my editor, Laura Barth, who launched the MADE IN MONTANA series with me and kept me on a steady course even when I wanted to scream and hide. Thank you for your patience and guidance. Good luck in your new position!

And for Brenda Chin…

thought you were rid of me, huh? Nice try.




1


“YOU HIT THAT YET?”

Trace McAllister didn’t wait to watch the six ball sink into the corner pocket. He stepped back from the pool table, and with a bad feeling he knew who Sam meant, turned to follow his gaze.

Of course it was Nikki.

After delivering a pitcher of beer to the men waiting their turn to play, she was walking toward the bar. The close-fitting pink T-shirt tucked into her tight worn jeans showed off her small waist and curvy hips. She’d left her shiny dark hair loose tonight, falling halfway down her back. Hard for a man not to take a second, even a third look. Trace understood, but making a remark like that…

Nope. No way he’d let it slide.

The Watering Hole was crowded for a Thursday, though it was warm even for June, and every cowboy in the place had either a frosty mug of beer or a bottle in his hand. Two of the handful of Sundance guests, a pair of blondes whose names Trace couldn’t recall, hovered near the end of the bar talking to a wrangler from the Double R. A tall brunette in a short skirt leaned over the jukebox, studying the selections.

So just to make sure he wasn’t getting worked up for nothing, Trace asked, “You don’t mean Nikki…”

“Hell, yeah. Look at her.” Sam tipped back his beer bottle, draining it while his eyes stayed on Nikki’s rear end. He wiped the back of his arm across his mouth. “That’s what you call U.S.A. prime. Give it to me straight, McAllister. You do her yet, or what?”

“Are you serious?” Another remark and Trace wouldn’t be able to hang on to his temper. He didn’t know Sam all that well. He worked as a hired hand at the Circle K and had a reputation for being popular with the ladies, not so much their fathers. Trace had done his share of getting around, but he knew how to be respectful and discreet. “You know she’s Matt Gunderson’s sister.”

“So?”

“So lay off.” Instead of lining up his next shot, Trace looked Sam dead in the eye. “That’s not a suggestion.”

Sam leaned against the wall, chalking the tip of his pool cue, and giving Trace an amused look that aggravated him further. “Must be nice to have a rich family and the second biggest ranch around. Guess you figure that entitles you to speak down to the rest of us.”

If he wasn’t so pissed, Trace would’ve laughed. Man, Sam had it wrong. The Sundance had once been a nice spread, still was, with over three-thousand acres of choice land and a nice healthy herd. But they hadn’t escaped fallout from the economic downturn. Most folks around Blackfoot Falls knew the McAllisters had converted part of the Sundance to a dude ranch in order to weather the storm. But then Sam wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

“Look, Sam, I’ve enjoyed shooting pool with you this week. And I don’t wanna have to butt heads with you, but if you make another remark about Nikki, you and I are gonna have a big problem.”

A short stocky kid who worked at the Lone Wolf moved closer to the far wall. Another guy left the back room. Trace had to motion for Lucas and Josh, two Sundance hands who looked as if they were itching to jump in, to stay out of it. Sadie owned the bar, and she had zero tolerance for fighting and foolish men in general.

“I knew you had it bad for her.” Sam abruptly moved his hand. Trace tensed, ready to block a punch, but Sam only shoved his fingers through his long blond hair and grinned. “I wondered why you been coming to town to play when I heard you got a real nice table out at the Sundance.”

Trace kept his face blank. Nikki had returned to Montana three weeks ago and had started at the bar a week later. He knew people were bound to put two and two together but most of the guys wouldn’t say anything. Except for Sam, the pain in the ass.

“Admit it, McAllister, and I’ll back off. Let you have her all to yourself.”

That made Trace smile. The guy was dreaming if he thought he could get anywhere near her. Maybe he should let Sam find out what Nikki would do to a hound dog like him. The woman was small and beautiful, but she was tough. Get her mad enough and she had a mouth that could make a sailor blush. She also knew how to swing a two-by-four. Trace had seen it for himself.

“What the hell you grinning at?” Frowning, Sam glanced around, saw that the boys from the Sundance hadn’t made a move. He seemed to relax and said, “You don’t stake your claim, then I’m gonna have me a taste of that honey.”

Trace really wanted to plant a fist in his face but he saw Nikki coming toward the back. No time to smooth things over, and he sure didn’t want to start a fight, not in here. Sadie would probably ban him from the place. Knowing he was taking a risk, he waited until Nikki reached them, then he leaned his cue against the wall. What the hell…he could keep a straight face and the odds were in his favor.

“Go ahead, tell her what you just said.” Trace folded his arms across his chest and smiled a little, just enough to make Sam second-guess himself.

He squinted at Trace, trying to gauge whether he was bluffing or really did know something Sam didn’t. The fact was, since his sister and Nikki’s brother had gotten cozy, Trace knew Nikki better than anyone in the bar, which wasn’t saying much, but made for a hell of a bluff.

“What?” Nikki held her empty tray against her hip and looked expectantly at Sam. “You wanted something?”

He shot her a glance but didn’t answer. The other hands were still hanging around, waiting to see Sam turn tail. They all knew him, and had probably arrived at the same conclusion as Trace. Sam couldn’t afford to bring on Sadie’s wrath. The Watering Hole was his hunting ground. He’d already gone through the eligible local women, been threatened with an angry father’s shotgun—twice—so that left him with the Sundance guests. And this was the best place to meet the new batch of single women who checked in each week.

“I don’t have all night, Sam,” Nikki said, impatience flashing in her brown eyes.

They looked darker in the dim bar lighting. Normally, if he looked closely, Trace could see gold flecks. That is, when he wasn’t fascinated by the shape of her wide generous mouth. He liked the way her lips turned up slightly at the corners.

“Another beer,” Sam said, moving closer to her, and when her eyes narrowed in warning, he stopped and set his empty bottle on her tray. “Please, darlin’.”

“I hope you’re not driving.” Her gaze slid over the front of his Western-cut shirt to the sloppy untucked hem. “Are you?”

“Ah, you worried about me?”

“No,” she said with a short laugh. “I don’t want you running into anyone.”

Trace smiled. The other guys chuckled.

Sam had to be about six-one because Trace was only taller by an inch or so. And Nikki was on the petite side, maybe five-four. so when Sam leaned toward her, it was hard to guess his intention, but he was asking for trouble no matter what he had in mind.

She tensed, and so did Trace.

Sam whispered something in her ear, then slowly drew back, a stupid grin on his face.

Nikki shook her head. “You keep on dreaming,” she said in a dry tone. “See how that works out for you.” She turned to Josh and Lucas. “Y’all want another beer?”

Her slight Southern drawl came out when she was irritated or excited or caught off guard. Trace didn’t have to guess at how she was feeling right now. She didn’t care for Sam, which seemed hard for the idiot to believe so he’d continued to make a jackass out of himself.

Trace watched her finish taking drink orders, collect empties and then start to leave. “What about me?”

She arched her brows at him. “What about you?”

“I need another beer.”

“You still have half a bottle left.”

“It’s warm.”

Eyeing him with suspicion, she made room on her tray as he walked over to give her the bottle. “You do this all the time.”

“Do what?” He reached for his Stetson before he remembered it wasn’t sitting on his head but on a wall peg in the corner. To cover the gaffe, he plowed his fingers through his hair. It was too long, hugging the back of his neck and curling at his collar.

“Tell you what,” Nikki said, her gaze fixed on his hand before slowly moving to his face. “Switch to tap. I’ll give you half a mug at a time and ask Sadie to charge you for a kiddie portion.”

Sam laughed, and so did the rest of the guys. But Trace didn’t care. Nikki hadn’t looked at any of them the way she’d just looked at him. The heat had lasted only a moment. If he’d blinked he would’ve missed the flicker of awareness in her eyes, the brief parting of her lips as she tipped her head back to meet his gaze.

“I’ll stick to bottles, and don’t worry about me leaving some behind.” He leaned in just like Sam had and whispered so only she could hear, “I do have to drive.”

She reared back and looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, then let out a startled laugh. “Maybe I should cut you off now.”

Better she thought he was being weird or tipsy than figure out he was trying to outdo Sam. Everyone was quiet, stepping aside to clear a path for her, though any minute Josh and the other hands were gonna bust from curiosity. Same with Sam, even if he was trying to appear cool.

Fighting a smile and shaking her head, Nikki left to fill their orders. He wished she’d laid one of her rare but dazzling smiles on him. He could’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of that, but Trace figured her answer was vague enough that he’d be able to mess with Sam a while longer.

Already Trace was paying for his mischief. She was halfway across the bar yet he could still smell her. Just like her sexy almond-shaped eyes and lightly golden skin, her scent was exotic, kind of mysterious. It seemed to cling to his shirt, the walls, the air around him. No wonder his pool game had been crap lately. His concentration was shot. Sure didn’t help that he couldn’t seem to drag his gaze away from the sway of her hips.

He’d finally convinced himself to return to the game when he saw a Sundance guest call Nikki over to her table. The woman’s name was Karina, which he hadn’t known until tonight, and only because she’d been hanging around the pool room earlier. She’d arrived yesterday and was blonde like so many of the guests, but easy to distinguish since she towered over all of them.

She wasn’t just tall, but close to six feet kind of tall. Behind her back Sam called her The Amazon, but mainly, Trace suspected, because he’d made a play for her and she hadn’t been interested. Trace liked her fine. It was refreshing to have a guest who actually wanted to watch a game of pool and not breathe down a guy’s neck.

Nobody in the family had wanted to go the dude ranch route. Both his brothers had hated the idea. They were all cattlemen, just like every McAllister man before them. Swallowing their pride left a bitter taste, though Cole and Jesse got off easier than him.

Cole ran the cattle operation. He’d barely turned twentyone when the reins were passed to him the day after their father’s funeral. Jesse had been in college at the time, and Trace and Rachel still in high school. The sorry state of the Sundance had nothing to do with Cole’s management and everything to do with the economy. In the end, Rachel had been right to push the dude ranch idea to bring in cash. But that didn’t mean Trace liked being her flunky when it came to entertaining the guests. All of them female, because that’s who Rachel targeted.

When they’d first opened and the women had come pouring in, Trace had a blast. Women of every shape and size literally landing on his doorstep? It was heaven on earth. Now, ten months later, he was jumping at his own shadow and hiding in the stables like a skittish colt.

Karina said something to Nikki, who nodded and glanced over her shoulder. At him.

He could’ve kicked himself into next week for getting caught staring. Leo, who owned the filling station at the south end of town, was sitting at a table behind the women, and Trace lifted a hand to him. The older guy frowned, then grudgingly lifted a hand in return, probably wondering if Trace was drunk.

“You gonna play or what?” Sam sounded irritable. “Plenty other guys are waiting to take your place.”

“Yeah, I mean, no, go ahead.” He nodded at the cue he’d left leaning against the wall. His mind wouldn’t be on the game. No sense going through the motions and holding up the others.

“We’re not finished,” Sam said. “Afraid I’m gonna whip your ass?”

“That’s right.” Trace snorted. “I bet you still believe in Santa Claus, too.”

Sam cursed under his breath. His mood had gone south fast and no one would want to play him. “Who’s up?” he asked, looking around the room.

“I’m just watching,” Josh said, and Lucas shook his head.

The guy from the Lone Wolf didn’t say a word, just sipped his beer. Trace didn’t know his name but nodded to him, and he gave him a friendly nod back. Matt Gunderson had returned to run the ranch since his father had been confined to bed, and Trace wondered if Matt had sent the man to keep an eye on his sister. Probably not. Nikki would catch on and be mad. Then again, it wasn’t likely she’d recognize one of the hands.

Although she’d been living at the Lone Wolf since her return, according to Matt she wanted nothing to do with the place. Or their father, for which no one in town would fault her. Wallace Gunderson was a despicable human being. But as his illegitimate daughter she was a Gunderson by blood, if not in name, and entitled to half the large ranching operation upon Wallace’s death. Which apparently was fast approaching.

Trace chanced a look and saw that she’d slipped behind the bar to fill mugs of beer while Sadie was busy pouring shots. Almost as if she sensed he was watching, Nikki swung a look at him. Neither of them broke eye contact right away, but then she had to stop the mugs from overflowing.

She did a good job of acting indifferent toward him, but it was mostly pretense. He might’ve thought it was his ego overriding his brain but his sister had confirmed Nikki had a soft spot for him. Though Rachel hadn’t meant to give him hope. In truth, she’d been warning him that if he played fast and loose with her boyfriend’s sister, she’d wring his neck.

He supposed she had some cause for concern. He’d always been lucky with women, and a number of them considered him a big flirt, but usually because they flirted back or initiated the dance. And Rachel sure hadn’t been shy about exploiting his so-called easy charm to help her keep the guests happy.

But with Nikki he’d been careful from the moment he’d met her in February. At first because she was Matt’s sister, and then because Trace had seen the cracks in her cool facade. They’d sat right here in the Watering Hole after a drunken idiot had accosted her outside. Matt had arrived in time to stop the guy, but the idiot’s friend had joined the party and Matt ended up with bruised ribs, a swollen face and lucky to still have teeth.

Nikki had been quick to accept the blame for her brother’s beatdown. So quick, it had stunned Trace. She’d been a victim as much as Matt, but all she’d been able to see was that she’d brought him trouble and that was all she’d ever do. She hadn’t come out and said it like that, but in those few unguarded moments, Trace had listened well. And he’d learned three things about her that night: she was fiercely loyal to people she cared about, didn’t trust easily and liked to keep her emotions tightly wrapped.

He knew she’d had a rough life growing up in Houston. Being raised by a single mother who’d worked two jobs to support them wasn’t a tragedy in itself, but Nikki had hinted that as a teenager she’d gotten into some trouble in her ganginfested neighborhood. She hadn’t elaborated, and it was pretty clear she’d regretted being so open.

Other than that night when he’d looked after her while Matt got patched up, Trace hadn’t spent any time alone with her. She’d come to Blackfoot Falls because her brother had wanted her to meet Wallace and get closure before he died. Matt also hoped she would like Montana and move to the Lone Wolf. They’d stayed two weeks and then Matt had to return to the rodeo circuit and Nikki to her waitressing job in Houston.

And in those three months they were gone, Trace had thought about her every single day. He’d never been that dogged over a woman before. His last new truck, yeah, and technically it hadn’t been new. But he’d thought about that honey every day for over five months before he had enough cash to bring the Ram home with him.

“Hey.”

Trace snapped out of his preoccupation the same time Nikki touched him. He looked at her small hand resting on his forearm, at the neatly trimmed nails that had a light sheen but no color. Then he looked into her pretty brown eyes that had seen too much. They got to him every time.

“You were daydreaming.” She drew back her hand. “If you had knocked this tray over I would’ve strangled you. Here.”

He took the bottle from her. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me.” She motioned with her chin. “Thank your friend sitting near the jukebox. The beer’s from her.”

His stomach turned. “Karina?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t want anyone buying my beer. Tell her I said thanks anyway.”

“Tell her yourself.” A small smile tugging at her lips, Nikki turned to pass a mug to Josh.

“I’m serious. Add this to my tab and then I’m cashing out.”

“You’re leaving?” Disappointment flickered in her eyes, and then she blinked and it was gone. “I can give you a total now,” she said, all business. “You’ve had, what…two beers?”

“This one makes three.” He waited for her to meet his gaze but she was being stubborn. He really didn’t want to leave yet, and if she gave him the slightest indication she’d like him to stay, he’d wait for her to get off work. But no, she seemed determined to treat him like he was any other customer. Which he supposed he was, but sure didn’t like it.

He set the bottle down and dug in his pocket. For over a week he’d had the same thing every night so he knew his tab came to $9.75. He pulled out two bills and laid them on her tray. “Keep the change.”

“Isn’t Karina a guest at the Sundance? You really want to turn her down?”

“Yeah, I do.” He wasn’t about to let that bronc out of the chute. Bad enough he had to socialize with the women crawling all over the Sundance. He didn’t need to owe any of them.

“It’s just a drink, Trace.”

He smiled. No, it wasn’t, not with these women. “Your next day off, how about you and me take a drive to Kalispell?”

“Why?” She glanced around, but no one had heard. He’d made sure he kept his voice low, and Sam was busy racking balls for the next game. “Isn’t that forty-five minutes away?”

“You haven’t been, right? It’s nice. Lots of restaurants, bars, department stores, movie theaters. I think there might even be a bowling alley.”

“So…you’re asking me to go because…?”

“I don’t know.” Man, she didn’t make it easy. “I have business there, anyway,” he said, lying through his teeth. “I thought you’d like to check out what’s available…stuff we don’t have in Blackfoot Falls.”

“I appreciate the thought.” She picked up two empty mugs off the shelf that ran along the wall. “But I have a bunch of things to do when I have time off.” Now she was lying. She wasn’t any better at it than him.

“Okay.” He saw Sam eyeing them, curiosity coming off him like steam. “If you change your mind let me know.” Trace grabbed his Stetson off the peg and returned his nearly full beer to her tray. “And don’t worry, Nikki. It’s just a drive.”




2


NIKKI FLORES WATCHED one of the blondes who’d been sitting at the end of the old mahogany bar run for the door that had barely closed behind Trace. Another woman had stopped him before he’d even made it that far. Whatever she’d said had him shaking his head, but he’d flashed her that movie star smile of his, the kind that had silly women forgiving and forgetting when they should be slamming doors shut.

“You gonna sulk the rest of the night because he went home early?” Sadie set a pitcher of beer on Nikki’s tray.

“Me?” She rolled her eyes. “No, but his fan club might. If we’re lucky they’ll drown their disappointment in expensive cocktails. I say we raise the price of those stupid appletinis.”

Sadie chuckled, sounding much better without the rusty wheeze she’d had a few months earlier when Nikki had first met the older woman. A lot of Nikki’s traumatic first visit to Blackfoot Falls had blurred once she’d returned to Houston. She’d only remembered a few things…the beauty of Montana wasn’t something easily forgotten, and the air, so clean and clear that taking a deep breath actually made her head light.

And the McAllisters…Nikki had never met a family like them. Their warmth and kindness was part of the reason she’d agreed to come back with Matt. At first she’d been wary. How could all three brothers and a sister be that well-adjusted? But then she’d met their mother. An hour spent with Barbara was all it had taken for Nikki to understand them. Oh, they weren’t perfect, not even close, but it was their unconditional love for one another and how they had each other’s back that impressed her.

Sadie had also made the short list. Nikki had only talked with her a couple times, but the woman sure seemed to know when to speak up and when to keep her opinion to herself. Nikki had been a wreck the night Matt had gotten into a fight protecting her. Every instinct had screamed for her to find the guys and get even, show them they couldn’t mess around with her or her family. Growing up, she’d learned to protect her own because no one else would.

But Matt had brought her to Montana so she could have a new life. Leave her troubled past behind. Sadie hadn’t known her circumstances, yet she’d seen the thirst for payback in Nikki’s eyes and in a few well-chosen words, convinced her it wasn’t worth it. When Nikki thought about it now, she had to hold back a shudder. The people here didn’t understand what she was capable of. Not even Matt got it. He hadn’t known her as a teenager.

That same night Trace had come into the bar with her, and to be fair, he’d played a big part in calming her down. He’d sat and listened and told her he wouldn’t blame her one bit for wanting to slap those guys into the next zip code. And then he’d reminded her that it wasn’t over—the men would be fired and the pleasure should be Matt’s.

God, it still bothered her that she’d told Trace little things about her past she wished she’d kept to herself. She’d known him less than a week, had never spoken to him one-on-one before that night. At the last minute he’d shown up to help Matt and ended up with a split lip. Not a big cut, just a small nick near the corner of his mouth. It had stopped bleeding pretty quickly, but every time she looked at him, she was reminded he’d been hurt because of her.

That was the only reason she’d opened up to him. Why she’d confessed that she hated Wallace more than she thought humanly possible, that he deserved to be sick, and how she was glad he was dying. She hadn’t censored her vile thoughts. They’d tumbled out of her mouth, and Trace had just sat there, without a hint of judgment.

Of course some of it wasn’t news to him. The McAllisters knew quite a lot from Matt because he trusted them. The scary part was, for those two rocky hours she’d sat with Trace, she’d actually trusted him, too.

That was enough to rattle her. She just didn’t put that kind of faith in people. She trusted Matt, but getting there had taken nearly a year of ups and downs. The only other person she completely believed in was her mother, who loved her no matter what. Her mom was the main reason Nikki was giving Blackfoot Falls a try. She’d met a businessman from Mexico City who wanted to marry her. But it wouldn’t happen, she’d never leave Houston as long as Nikki was there.

No, trust didn’t come easy for Nikki. Especially with men. They always disappointed her. And a guy like Trace with his looks, his family’s clout, money and a bright future…He was the worst kind of man to count on. Good-looking smooth guys like him couldn’t seem to help themselves. They had charm to spare and felt they owed it to the female population to spread it around.

She’d fallen for a man like that before, and she’d been burned. Badly. Just like her mom had been crushed by Wallace all those years ago. If nothing else, Nikki had learned a lesson from the experience. Or so she’d thought until that night she’d blabbed to Trace.

“You need anything else besides those tequila shots?” Sadie asked, with a glance at Nikki’s loaded tray.

“No, this is it. Thanks.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Trace.”

Nikki hefted the tray at the same time Sadie spoke and almost let the pitcher slide off. “Where did that come from?”

“You’ve been staring at the door the last five minutes. I figured you were worried about him.”

“Why would I be? That’s crazy.”

Sadie smiled. “My mistake.”

Nikki dropped off the pitcher first. She’d been carrying heavy trays and serving drinks since she was old enough to work. But something in Sadie’s smug expression had thrown her off and all she needed was for the entire order to crash to the wooden floor.

Her tips weren’t so good that she could afford to hand half over to Sadie.

She delivered the tequila shots to the two cowboys sitting in the corner and managed to give them a smile. They were nice laid-back guys whose names she really should remember. Both were good tippers and patient when she got slammed. She hated that all the other customers seemed to fade when Trace was in the bar. But what she hated even more was that he hung out with Sam.

Sometimes Sam was okay. He’d come in nearly every night since she’d started working for Sadie. He liked to flirt and tease, not just with her but with the Sundance guests. She knew that at least one of the women had gone off with him last week. For her part, Sam was the kind of guy she’d go a mile out of her way to avoid. He was good-looking, but too cocky and full of himself. Definitely a one-night stand guy. After checking on her customers, she stowed her tray and slipped behind the bar to wash glasses. The dishwasher had conked out three years ago and Sadie had gone without since. Last week she’d admitted to Nikki that she’d almost closed the bar a month before the Sundance opened their doors to guests. Business had gotten slow with so many layoffs in the area. the hired hands who were left had started going to Kalispell for their entertainment. Until all the young single women began arriving each week.

At the end of the bar Sadie made jukebox change for a customer and then grabbed a clean towel and joined Nikki. “I was gonna get to those glasses next, but thanks for pitching in. You’re a good worker, Nikki. And God bless you, you showed up at the right time. I would’ve been up a creek without anyone reliable to fill in for Gretchen.”

“She’s ready to have her baby anytime now, right?”

“Next Tuesday is her due date.” Sadie picked up a mug and dried it. “Claims she’ll come back to work in two months but I’ve got my doubts. Even if she does I can still use you two nights a week if you’re willing.”

Nikki nodded, though she’d been hoping for something more full-time. But then again anything could happen in two months. Her mother planned on relocating to Mexico City in three weeks. As soon as she was settled Nikki could start thinking about where she wanted to end up.

Cole’s girlfriend, Jamie, loved San Francisco, claimed it was one of her favorite cities, and she was a travel blogger who’d been around the world more than once. Maybe Nikki would go have a look for herself, see if she could find a decent job there. Although she was hoping to save more money before she left.

If she left. She really was trying to keep an open mind, but she couldn’t seem to imagine the Lone Wolf ever feeling like home. the huge two-story house was beautiful, nicer than any place she’d ever lived or most likely ever would. And the guest bedroom, which was now hers according to Matt, was almost as big as the apartment she’d had in Houston.

Most of the time the ranch was quiet, too. So still and quiet that at first it had creeped her out. In her old neighborhood it wasn’t unusual to hear gunshots in the middle of the night. Sometimes at the Lone Wolf if she kept a window open she’d hear a calf bawling or a rooster crowing. She hadn’t gotten used to that yet.

“Do you think Marge might need help at the diner?” she asked, and Sadie frowned. “I’d still work here whenever you needed me, but after Gretchen comes back, I wouldn’t mind picking up a few shifts over there.”

“I don’t think she needs anyone but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Frankly, though, I think the tips are better here.” Sadie dried two more mugs before she said, “Of course I’d never refuse to take Gretchen back, but it wouldn’t surprise me none if she wanted to stay home with that new baby and only work a couple nights a week. If that happens, the other shifts are all yours.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” She watched Sadie brace a hand on the back counter while she stretched up to stow the clean mugs on the upper shelf.

Her diabetes was under control, and she’d lost some weight, which allowed her to get around more, but she still had a few health issues. She’d been divorced a while and her only daughter lived in Oregon. For whatever reason, they rarely spoke and hadn’t seen each other in years. Sadie only had the Watering Hole. Leaving her would be hard. Nikki hadn’t expected that, especially not after working for her only two weeks. She’d miss the small rustic bar, too, with its warped tables and mismatched chairs.

“You look a little sad tonight, honey.” Sadie took the soapy mug from her and rinsed it. “You missing your mama?”

“A little. Mostly I’m happy she’s found someone who really cares about her.” Nikki couldn’t say the words without thinking about Wallace and how horribly he’d wronged her mother. She’d been young, hopeful and in love with the handsome older man who’d used her until she and Nikki had become an inconvenience.

“She have any family in Mexico City?”

“Some cousins and an uncle. I’ve never met them, but she’s stayed in contact.”

“I imagine you’ll be visiting her soon enough.”

Nikki nodded, though she worried she couldn’t scrape together the money to make the trip. No way she’d accept the fare from Matt even though he’d offered. She still planned on repaying him for the money he’d secretly sent her mother for a year. He just didn’t know it. Good thing, because it was going to take her forever.

“I hope I’m not opening a can of worms here,” Sadie said, “but how’s Wallace doing?”

Nikki shrugged. “He has a few weeks. He’s not even seeing the doctor anymore. A nurse from the clinic stops by now and then. Matt and Lucy are taking care of him.”

“Well, I sure give Matt credit. I doubt that boy ever heard a kind word from Wallace.”

“I think in Matt’s mind he’s doing this for his mom.”

Not anxious to talk anymore about Wallace, Nikki finished washing the last glass and then rinsed and dried her hands. “I’d better go check to see if anyone’s thirsty,” she said, her gaze going to the door. It had been a while since Trace left and the woman who’d chased after him hadn’t returned. Nikki had no business wondering what they were doing. They could be making out in his truck for all she cared.

“I bet she asked him for a ride back to the Sundance just to get him alone.” Sadie moved closer and lowered her voice. “Some of these city gals are downright shameless.”

Nikki didn’t bother denying her thoughts had drifted to Trace. Sadie saw too damn much. “Yes, sometimes we are.”

“I didn’t mean you.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

Sadie gave her a long look and laughed. “Don’t you start getting sassy with me.”

“Well, I am a city girl. Before coming here, I’d only left Houston once.” For a quick trip over the border to Mexico when she was sixteen and what a disaster that had been. Too late she wished the memory had stayed buried along with the other stupid rebellious things she’d done.

“Yes, but you aren’t like them.” Sadie’s gaze flickered toward the tall brunette talking to Sam. “That one, Sam Miller, he’s like a hound in heat. I’m not complaining, mind you. He’s good for business.”

“So is Trace.”

Sadie didn’t appreciate the remark, judging by her narrowed eyes. It was clear she liked Trace, maybe simply because he was a McAllister, no telling. “Those two names don’t belong in the same sentence.”

Nikki had to put her opinion on hold when a customer signaled for her. She’d meant to check to see who needed refills, not start thinking about Trace. Or trying to figure out how she could get information about him from Sadie without being obvious. Really stupid because she’d had him figured out the first night she met him at the Sundance. He’d been surrounded by fawning guests, eating up the attention. She’d promised herself right then she’d stay away from him. If she decided to hang around Blackfoot Falls for a while, she didn’t want to be the subject of gossip and embarrass Matt.

While collecting drink orders she had the feeling of being watched and looked over to find Sam staring. He gave her a sly wink that made her want to smack him. She pretended she hadn’t seen it. After working in bars for five years, she’d found it was best to ignore men like him when they were on the hunt.

“Four more tequila shots and three beers,” she told Sadie, then slid her tray onto the bar.

“I think Sam was trying to get your attention.”

“Sam can kiss my—” Nikki pressed her lips together.

Sadie chuckled. “I hate to tell you, honey, but I think that’s exactly what Sam wants to do.”

“Sorry,” Nikki muttered. “He’s a customer. I’ll play nice.”

“Not if he gets out of line, you won’t. I’ll take a switch to him myself. Though I reckon Trace would beat me to it.”

She sighed at the woman’s teasing smile. “Why would Trace care? They’re friends.”

Grunting, Sadie grabbed the bottle of tequila. “That’ll be the day. That pool table is about the only thing those two fellas have in common.”

“And being good for business.”

“That, too.” Sadie moved the shots she’d poured onto Nikki’s tray. “Although I think poor Trace has been coming to town to get away from those city gals.” Sadie didn’t even try to hide her amusement. “More likely, though, he has his eye on a certain pretty new waitress.”

“You’re delusional and a troublemaker.” Shaking her head, Nikki grabbed a stack of cocktail napkins. “Why does anyone want to work for you?” She ignored Sadie’s laughter and picked up the tray. “Don’t forget to check your blood sugar.”

Sadie glanced at the round clock on the wall behind her. “Thanks, honey.”

Nikki heard the soft gratitude in the older woman’s voice and hurried off to deliver the drinks. Letting herself care too much about Sadie would be a foolish move. So would letting Sadie think she could depend on her. Right now she was so lost and confused she was no good to anyone.

NIKKI WAS FINALLY getting the hang of driving a pickup and she wasn’t even grinding the gears so much anymore. No sooner had the thought formed than she shifted to make the turn onto the gravel drive and cringed at the awful sound she made. The truck Matt had given her to use was old and smaller than the other two big four-door, extended cab models that belonged to the Lone Wolf. He’d tried to convince her to take Wallace’s Escalade, which was an automatic, but driving the luxury SUV scared the crap out of her. Even though she’d gotten her license at eighteen, she’d never owned her own car. In Houston she’d used buses to get to work, then always managed to find a ride home.

The Watering Hole didn’t stay open late. Most of the customers were either hired hands or ranchers who woke up at an ungodly hour to take care of their animals. By eleven the bar was usually pretty dead. A few of the men stuck around if they had the next day off or were close to hooking up with a Sundance guest. No matter who was there, Sadie shooed them out and locked the door by midnight.

Something else for Nikki to get used to. Since she was eighteen she’d worked until the wee hours of the morning. Even while she’d attended community college for two years she’d worked late, and then studied when she got home. This going to sleep early crap wasn’t easy.

Driving slowly toward the Lone Wolf she saw that the bunkhouse was completely dark. Only the low-watt security lights were on in the barns and stable. The house was a different story. Lights blazed from the foyer and Wallace’s office, even the kitchen was lit up.

She saw Rachel’s small white car parked next to Matt’s black truck on the side of the house. No other strange cars were there, like one that could belong to the doctor, so she figured Wallace hadn’t died. It still seemed weird living in his house. She never saw him…only twice in the three weeks since she’d come back with Matt. God only knew what Lucy, the housekeeper, or Rachel thought of Nikki for refusing to help with his care. She knew Matt understood why she’d have nothing to do with the bastard, and that was good enough for her.

The promise her mother had forced her to make still irritated Nikki. Why the hell did her mom care when Wallace finally passed on? He’d caused her nothing but misery. For two years before Nikki was born and three years after, he’d gone to Houston pretending it was business while he cheated on his wife. The arrangement might’ve lasted forever if her mom hadn’t given him an ultimatum—divorce Matt’s mother and acknowledge Nikki as his daughter. That was the last time they’d seen him.

Of course Nikki didn’t remember him very well because she’d been too young. But it wasn’t easy to forget the violent crying jags and gloomy weeks her mom had been too depressed to go to work. Nikki loved her with all her heart, but she would never be that weak. She’d die before she gave a man that much power over her.




3


NIKKI BURIED HER FACE deeper into the pillow. The windows were closed and she’d shut the blinds tight before she’d crawled into bed at four this morning. So where was the light coming from? And the noise…Outside men were talking while horses were doing whatever annoying things horses did…besides terrify her. How was a person supposed to get any sleep?

She blindly felt around the other side of the queen bed, found the extra pillow and plopped it on her head. It helped to mute the sounds but not enough. Oh, man, maybe she hadn’t closed the windows. Her bedroom was too chilly. Even in June, at this altitude, the nights and early mornings had a nip in the air that had her thinking twice about staying for the week much less indefinitely.

With a groan, she flopped onto her back and stared at the digital clock on the oak nightstand—10:16 a.m. Okay, this was a ranch and she knew people had work to do but really, did they have to be so loud?

Her problem could be solved if she just got up and checked the windows. It seemed a simple fix until she tried to swing her legs off the side of the bed. They felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds each. So did her head. She wasn’t the least hungover, even though it felt that way. After work she and Sadie’d had one lousy shot. That was it. And Nikki doubted she would’ve had anything to drink if Trace had come to the bar last night.

That got her heart pumping faster and her eyes fully open.

Okay, maybe she was coming out of a blackout because that was the stupidest thought ever. She glanced around her room, spotted her phone where she’d left it to charge on the massive dresser and forced her feet to the floor. She had to squint at the screen in order to focus on the date. Yep, it was Saturday. Last time she’d seen Trace was Thursday when the blonde had chased after him.

Come to think of it, Nikki hadn’t seen the woman last night, either. Only the friend she’d come with two nights earlier. Which probably meant that she and Trace were…

No. She didn’t care what Trace was doing. She didn’t. Thinking about him at all would make her a fool. Or maybe it was a form of therapy…or avoidance…transference…something like that. She couldn’t think about Trace and Wallace at the same time. If she tried, Trace won.

Sometimes she missed the rinky-dink Houston community college that had been close enough to work that she could walk.

She’d loved studying psychology until she learned how much schooling it took to actually get a useful degree. It could’ve been fun and challenging but she was nothing if not realistic. Higher education required money. And that was something she’d never have to spare.

She set the phone down, lingering to touch the smooth oak.

Matt said the hand-carved dresser had been in the family for over a hundred years. She wondered if that meant it was an antique. Or just old. She never could figure out the difference. One thing she knew for sure, the obnoxiously big mirror mounted on the back was newer and really had to go if she stayed much longer.

Staring at the dark smudges under her eyes because she’d been too lazy to remove her makeup was not how she wanted to wake up. Her hair was a mess. She’d worn it in a ponytail last night rather than iron out the two stubborn kinks that had appeared as it dried on its own. And oh, yeah, they were still there.

Hearing voices, she turned to the window. She’d meant to close it when she got up. Now she could swear she heard Trace.

But he wouldn’t be here. He had too much to do at the Sundance, and besides, she doubted he’d step foot on Lone Wolf property. Not as long as Wallace owned it.

She shoved the curtain aside and yanked the cord to raise the closed blinds. Matt and Trace stood near the walkway below, talking, but her impatience with the blinds drew their attention.

Trace tipped his head back, and with his forefinger, pushed up the brim of his Stetson. With the sun shining on his tanned face, his green eyes seemed to sparkle. “Morning, sunshine,” he said, his mouth curving in a grin.

Nikki knew exactly what she looked like and her first instinct was to jump back and jerk the curtain closed. But giving in would only tell him she cared how he saw her. And that was so much worse. “God, can you be any louder? Some of us have to work at night.”

“Have to?” Matt lifted an eyebrow at her. Apparently he wasn’t in the best mood. He hated that she worked at the Watering Hole instead of adjusting to the ranch, though lately he hadn’t said much. “I’m pretty sure you could’ve gone to sleep earlier than four.”

Her heart sank. If he knew when she’d turned off her lamp, that probably meant he’d been up with Wallace. In fact, Matt looked drawn and tired. She was the worst sister in the whole world. How did he put up with her?

“Would y’all like some coffee?” Her neckline had slipped down her shoulder and she pulled the nightshirt back in place. “I’ll bring it out to you.”

“Sure.” Matt rubbed his eyes, then frowned. “No, that’s okay. I wasn’t thinking…Go back to bed.”

“I’m up. It’s no trouble.”

“I wouldn’t mind a cup.” Trace wasn’t smiling anymore but he was staring up at her.

Her nightshirt was made of thin yellow T-shirt fabric and she wasn’t wearing a bra. No, he wasn’t being obvious or horrible but he’d noticed all right. “Cream and sugar?” she asked, stepping backward.

“I like my women sweet, my coffee not so much.”

Nikki rolled her eyes and noticed Matt trying not to smile. “Is that your oh-so-charming way of saying no sugar?”

“You got it, darlin’.”

She hated when he called her that, and he knew it. The smile was back, and he might’ve winked, she wasn’t sure with the sun in his face. Very tempting to renege on the offer, go back to bed and let them get their own coffee. Oh, who was she kidding? She’d never go back to sleep knowing he was just outside. She only wished she knew why he was here.

“Okay, give me a few minutes.” She pulled the curtain closed and grabbed a pair of jeans she’d tossed on the blue upholstered chair last night.

It took her a minute to sift through her underwear drawer before she realized he wouldn’t actually see that her bra and panties matched. Sighing, she plucked a black thong from the pile along with the most unflattering white bra she owned. She found a clean red T-shirt, washed her face, brushed her teeth, then twisted her hair up and clipped it.

She hurried to the kitchen, still wondering what Trace was doing here. All she needed was for him to flirt with her like he did at the bar. She didn’t know how Matt would react. He liked Trace but Matt was protective of her and he’d seen how Trace behaved around the Sundance guests.

But then Trace already had kind of flirted with her earlier. Or maybe that was just how a guy teased his friend’s kid sister. In many ways, having a brother was still new to her. Little things surprised her, like how Matt worried that she drove home alone at midnight. It was that sort of reaction that made her realize Matt didn’t truly understand how she and her mom had lived. Because Nikki would feel a whole lot safer with a pack of coyotes than she’d felt in her old neighborhood.

Holding three mugs made it hard to open the front door. She managed, but pulling it closed was trickier. If only she had someplace to set down…

In seconds Trace was at her side. “I figured you went back to bed,” he said, closing the door and reaching for a mug. “Which one’s mine?”

“The blue.” She held it out to him.

He wrapped his hand around the cup, his warm fingers brushing against her knuckles. It had to be deliberate, the way he let the tips trail along the backs of her own fingers before he took the mug from her.

She stared down at his hand. “You have calluses.”

“What?” He gave her a funny look. “I work on a ranch, you know. Here, I’ll take Matt’s.”

“I didn’t mean anything. I was just—” She let go of the coffee with cream and sugar, and this time, he was careful not to touch her. “Trace?”

He’d already started walking toward Matt and acknowledged her with a quick glance over his shoulder.

It was too awkward to talk with all that space between them. Plus Matt would hear her fumbling to explain that the calluses had surprised her and she had no idea why. She followed him in mute frustration wishing Matt wasn’t standing so close to the corral where two mean-looking horses had been kept yesterday. No sign of them now, but Nikki was already edgy and she preferred a vast distance between her and where any animal the size of a horse might be. Dogs and cats were fine. She’d always wanted a cocker spaniel or a cute little poodle. But people’s fascination with horses? She didn’t get it. Those beasts were huge and dangerous.

“You said something back there.” Trace had already given Matt his coffee, and he was leaning against the railing watching her as she joined them. Well, sort of joined them…by stopping a good six feet away. “Sorry, I didn’t catch it.”

“Oh, it was nothing.” She cradled her mug with both hands and sipped from it, sweeping a gaze toward the barn and stable.

“You haven’t been out here before, have you?” Matt asked, and Trace laughed.

She could see why he thought it was a joke. They weren’t that far from the walkway, but still farther than she’d ever ventured. The area between the front door and where she parked the truck on the side of the house, now that was her turf.

“No,” she said, and had to clear her throat and try again. “I haven’t.”

A pair of hired hands left the barn on noisy ATVs so no one bothered to say anything. Trace drank his coffee, watching her, his brows puckered in a slight frown. She hoped he wouldn’t ask why she hadn’t been to the corral, because she didn’t really want to answer in front of Matt. He didn’t know about her fear of large animals. It had only started after she’d watched him compete in the Houston rodeo last year.

He was a professional bull rider, with fancy belt buckles and millions in prize money. Nothing intimidated him. He’d been calm and cool sitting on top of that fifteen-hundred-pound bull. She was pretty sure his eight-second ride had knocked a year off her life. That had been the first and last time she’d gone to a rodeo.

Matt kept glancing toward the stable as if he were waiting for someone. Trace apparently preferred to stare at her. It made her nervous, and she pretended not to notice, but what annoyed her most was that she would’ve liked the chance to check him out.

He wasn’t dressed all that differently from when he came into the bar. If he owned more than one pair of pants that weren’t jeans she’d be shocked. And he seemed to like T-shirts. He wore them all the time, even in this chilly morning air. Twice he’d come into the Watering Hole wearing cool Western-cut shirts. But the other guys gave him so much crap about it she knew it wasn’t a normal thing. The cowboy boots and Stetson seemed to be daily requirements.

When the ATV engines had faded and they could be heard again, Matt spoke first. “Do you know if Wallace is awake?”

Nikki shrugged, feeling a bit defensive. No reason for it because Matt never criticized or pushed. He accepted her refusal to have anything to do with the man.

“How’s he doing?” Trace asked.

Matt shrugged. “Depressed. Not even interested in drinking, if you can believe that.”

“I believe it,” Trace murmured.

“Yeah.” Matt sighed. “Right.” He knew Trace understood because his own father had died of cancer years ago. And Nikki knew this only because Matt had told her.

It got quiet after that. She wondered if Trace was thinking about his father. The McAllisters were a close family, but she didn’t know anything about Trace’s relationship with the man. Or much about Trace, really.

The night Matt had gotten beaten up was the only time she’d spent alone with Trace. She’d had a bit too much to drink and he’d driven her home. He’d been a perfect gentleman, not even trying for a good-night kiss, though she knew he really wanted to.

She wasn’t used to guys like him. He’d kind of rattled her at the time. But when she thought about it, all he’d really done was show restraint. And only because she was Matt’s sister.

Trace’s mouth curved into a slow, sexy smile.

She blinked, her insides fluttering with the realization that she’d been staring at him as if he were a hot fudge sundae. And he was loving it.

“What are you doing here anyway?” she asked, wishing she could just disappear. “Don’t I see enough of you at the Watering Hole? You have to come sniffing around here?”

“Jesus, Nikki.” Matt frowned at her. “You need more sleep. I phoned Trace. He’s here to help me.”

She looked from her brother to Trace, who was still smiling.

“It’s true,” he said, touching the brim of his hat. “Though I’m always happy to see you, Nikki.”

“Oh.” She took another sip, sorry she’d gotten out of bed. “So I’m interrupting.”

“Nope.” Trace casually glanced over his shoulder. “We’re just waiting.”

“For who?”

“Petey,” Matt said. “He’s our best man, been here for over twenty years. You met him yet?”

“Is he the really big guy with the shaggy beard?” she asked, and when Matt nodded, she said, “I’ve seen him around but I haven’t actually met him. He always seems to be working with the horses.”

“That’s what a wrangler does, though we can count on Petey for just about anything.”

“Nowadays we use ATVs a lot,” Trace said. “Back when I was a kid, everything was done on horseback and the horses had to know how to work around the cattle. You needed a good wrangler so you didn’t spend half your time with your ass planted in the dirt.”

Matt nodded, grinning. “Now they even use helicopters for roundups and drives. The job’s gotten too cushy.”

“Hey, as soon as we start seeing profits again, we need to chip in, start a co-op and buy a chopper,” Trace said. He put his mug on the corral post, then flexed his shoulders as if trying to get the stiffness out. “We’ve already got ourselves a pilot. That’s half the battle, right?”

She knew he meant his brother Jesse, but she didn’t understand the remark about profits. According to Matt the Lone Wolf was doing great. The Sundance seemed to be doing well, too. But watching Trace arch his back and stretch his arms in that snug black T-shirt, she couldn’t concentrate on anything but his broad chest and muscular biceps. She’d never thought of him as the type to work out but he had to be lifting weights or something to account for the flat belly and ridges of muscle.

Trace straightened and let his arms fall to his sides, so she could finally relax. If he’d caught her staring she didn’t know it because her gaze never made it higher than his chest.

She forced herself to look toward the barn where someone was moving out bales of hay. “What’s that equipment called?”

They both looked, but Trace answered first. “It’s just a Toolcat,” he said. “Good for small jobs and tight places.” Nikki felt a little guilty when she caught Matt’s pleased expression. He thought she was finally showing interest in the place when all she really wanted was a distraction.

“Okay, here he comes.” Matt’s tone was all business, even his posture had changed as he peered toward the stable.

Trace turned his attention to Petey. He wasn’t alone. The big grizzly looking man was leading the brown horse—the mean one from yesterday—toward them. As big as the wrangler was he seemed to be having trouble holding on to the animal when it reared up.

“He’s a beauty,” Trace murmured, slowly bending to slip between the wood railings into the corral.

Nikki tried to grab his arm and missed. “What are you doing?”

“Hey.” Matt drew her back. “You have to be quiet.”

After a brief struggle, Petey got the horse through the open gate. She watched in horror as Trace approached them from the opposite side. The horse put its head down low, arched its back and leaped into the air. Both men stepped clear as the animal came down on stiff legs.

Trace reached for the lead. “I got him,” he said in a calm voice.

“God, Matt, don’t let him do this,” she whispered, her throat tight and raw. “Please.”

“Trace knows what he’s doing. Nobody’s better with mustangs. But he doesn’t need to be distracted. Understand?”

No, she didn’t. How could she comprehend any of it? The horse’s nostrils were flared and his eyes wild…He looked as if his mission was to kill Trace. She couldn’t watch. If she’d had it in her power to make Trace leave the corral she would have.

She backed up slowly, covering her mouth because she didn’t trust herself not to scream or do something equally stupid. All eyes were on the mustang, so she turned and ran to the house.




4


SHE’D BEEN SCARED to death. Trace had seen it in Nikki’s flushed face and unfocused eyes, even the way her body had stiffened. What he didn’t know was whether she was afraid of horses in general or this particular mustang. Trace had to admit, the stallion could be a mean-looking son of a bitch. But only because he’d been afraid, just like Nikki.

“You’re feeling better now, aren’t you, boy?” He wiped the powerful flank, lathered with sweat, and used the back of his free arm to blot his own wet forehead.

Stupid not to wear long sleeves. He should’ve known better.

The T-shirt was sticking to his sweaty body, so he pulled it off and used a dry spot to mop his face. He had a spare in his truck that probably ought to be tossed in the rag bin but it would serve the purpose until he got home.

After three hours, the mustang was exhausted, and so was Trace. Diablo was the most fiercely stubborn horse he’d gone up against in a long time. Since the stallion had been purchased only two days earlier, he hadn’t actually been named yet. But Trace figured why not go for the obvious, the Spanish word for devil.

Matt walked out of the barn with a young hand and more bottles of water. Trace had lost track of how many he’d gulped down just in the past hour alone. A drop of sweat trickled into his eye. He squeezed it closed and used the T-shirt to stop the sting. When he could open his eye again he looked toward the house and saw Nikki standing at her window.

She moved back, and he pretended he hadn’t seen her. He wondered if Matt knew about her fear of horses. Trace didn’t think so. If he did, it wouldn’t be like Matt to let his sister come anywhere near an untamed mustang. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been in danger. Seeing the stallion’s wild-eyed look wouldn’t win her over.

And her living on a ranch of all places? Man, no wonder she hightailed it off the Lone Wolf every chance she got. Matt had mentioned he thought her skittishness was about Wallace. Since she obviously hadn’t spoken up about her phobia, Trace wouldn’t say a word, either. Not to Matt, anyway. But he fully intended on having a talk with Nikki. She’d never give the Lone Wolf a shot if she didn’t figure out that a horse was harmless if you treated it right. And Matt really wanted his sister to stay.

Truthfully, Trace wouldn’t mind, either. Hell, if he really wanted to be honest, he’d outright admit he wanted her to stick around. Admit it to himself, anyway. No one else needed to know he was getting a little soft.

Diablo sure knew. Reading Trace’s sudden energy shift like a book, the stallion tossed his head and stamped the ground. Rotten timing. Matt and the hand had just reached them, and the poor kid looked as if he might pee his jeans.

“He’s okay,” Trace said, stroking the mustang’s neck. “It was me. I got him a little jumpy. I’ll take him back to the stable and give him a good brushing. All will be forgiven.”

“No, you won’t,” Matt said. “You’ve worked hard enough. Lester is gonna take him.” Matt passed Trace a water. “I got beer inside if you want.”

Holding on to the lead, Trace eyed the young man. “You’re Morgan’s boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I’m the oldest.”

“I thought you were still in high school.”

“Graduated last month.”

“Sorry,” Matt said. “I figured you guys knew each other. Things have changed in the ten years since I moved away.”

“Not so much.” Trace held out the lead, which Lester seemed reluctant to take. “I doubt he’ll give you trouble. Just stay calm, keep your voice low.” Trace let go once he saw the boy had him. To Matt, he said, “By the way, I think this one needs to be called Diablo.”

Lester groaned. “Great.”

Matt and Trace both laughed.

Trace clapped the kid on the shoulder as he turned slowly toward the stable. “Son, I wouldn’t let you take him if I thought he’d be too rowdy for you.” He watched Lester and Diablo move toward the stable, then caught Matt staring at him. “What?”

“Son?” Matt chuckled. “He’s what…seventeen? You’ve got only ten years on that kid.”

“You have been away too long. Hell, I call Jesse son and he’s five years older than me.” Trace downed more water but kept his gaze on the boy and the mustang. He wasn’t necessarily worried, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. If he had to make a dash, he was ready. “You remember Lester’s father, right?”

“You said Morgan?” Matt frowned, shaking his head. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been so busy with Wallace and straightening out payroll, I don’t even know all the men who live in the bunkhouse, much less the day hands. Duke is still the foreman. He’s been running things.”

“Morgan Dunn was a year ahead of Cole in school. He stepped in as quarterback at the last minute and took us to finals.”

Matt swung a stunned look at Lester’s retreating back. “That Morgan? He has a son that age?”

“He knocked up his girlfriend senior year. They’re still married and running her dad’s ranch. It’s a small operation but they haven’t gone under and that’s something.” Trace rolled his left shoulder. It was getting stiff again and he was tired of the sun beating down on him. He often worked without a shirt when he was mending fences but not at this time of day. He started for the gate, and Matt walked along with him.

“Man, do I feel old.”

“You are old.”

“Thanks.” Matt snorted. “Tell your sister she’d better hurry and marry me while I can still get it up.”

“Nah, she’s gotta wait for Cole to tie the knot with Jamie, then Jesse has to marry Shea. It’s a McAllister tradition. Oldest to youngest. Everyone’s gotta wait their turn.”

Matt stopped and gave him a panicked look.

Trace laughed, scooped up the mug he’d left on the railing and looked at Matt. His expression hadn’t changed. “Tell me you aren’t that damn gullible.”

“You’re older than Rachel,” Matt said with a straight face. “That’s gonna be a long wait. Who the hell would marry you?”

Trace automatically glanced up at Nikki’s window. He didn’t know why. She wasn’t there, but that didn’t matter. That he’d looked was stupid.

Matt started them walking again. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“What?”

Matt just smiled, then nodded at the T-shirt Trace had balled in his hand. “I owe you a shirt.”

“I’m not messing around with your sister.” Trace kept his eyes on the ground. He’d never been more confused over a woman in his life. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t seem to get her out of his head. Staying away from the Watering Hole hadn’t helped. The only thing he knew for sure was that if he made a move, he’d better be serious about her. Matt was a friend and soon he’d be family. “I know better.”

“Hey, not my business. Nikki’s a big girl, and she knows her own mind. If she doesn’t want you messing with her, she won’t be shy about letting you know.” Matt grinned. “If I need to worry, it should be about you. Cross her and she’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” Trace laughed, because that’s what Matt expected, but he wondered if Matt really believed his own words. Nikki might not be as tough as he thought.

But then Trace was starting to get the feeling she was a little mixed up about how tough she was, too. It wasn’t just about her being afraid of horses. She’d told him about the gang violence in her old neighborhood, so he understood she’d needed to come off hard as nails. That didn’t mean she hadn’t been scared a time or two. She liked to pretend nothing bothered her. But he’d seen her feeling defenseless and uncertain, and trying her damnedest to hide it.

Maybe that tug-of-war between vulnerability and bravery had gotten to him, because something sure was preventing him from keeping his distance. He wasn’t the kind of guy who needed to ride to the rescue, either. Still, for her to live on a ranch and fear horses? That was unnecessary grief. Maybe he could help her with that.

They were approaching the house. Trace’s truck was parked over on the right. “You want to come in for that beer?” Matt asked. “I just need to check on Wallace first.”

“No, I got a lot to do at the Sundance yet. I’m just gonna give this mug to Nikki.”

“I can take it…” Matt’s voice trailed off. “Sure, come on in.”

“I’m too grimy. Mind asking her to meet me at the door?”

“Just wipe your boots so Lucy won’t take a broom to both of us, but otherwise you’re fine to come inside.” Matt opened the door while scraping off his own boots. “I’ll call her. She’s probably in her room.” He stuck out his hand and they shook. “Thanks. I appreciate what you did with Diablo.”

“Anytime.” Trace looked around. “It was good seeing how well kept the place is.”

A loud kitchen noise had Matt frowning over his shoulder. “I’ll go get her. See you soon, huh?”

Trace nodded, waited until Matt left and then used the rest of the water and his T-shirt to wipe his face and upper body. He figured he had time to run to his truck for the other shirt, but he’d taken only one step off the porch when he heard Nikki.

“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice at a nervous pitch.

“Sure.” He turned to her. “Just fine,” he said, smiling. But she didn’t see because her gaze was aimed at his bare chest. “Sorry. I was just about to get a clean shirt out of my truck.”

“Huh?” Her eyes slowly lifted to meet his. “Oh, no problem. Matt said you wanted to see me?”

Trace had to quietly clear his throat. No mistaking the look on her face. She liked what she saw. “I wanted to give you this.” He stepped back up onto the porch, holding out the mug.

“Oh.” She took it from him. “Did you want more coffee?”

“No, but I’d like you to come for a short walk with me.”

“Where?”

“To the stable.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“You don’t have to get close to the horses.” Trace made sure his hand was clean, then held it out to her. He’d been sensitive about the calluses earlier but he got it. Nikki had only seen him as goodwill ambassador to the guests. Maybe it was time for her to see that he worked on the ranch just like any other man. She might not like it but he was a cowboy.

She stared at his palm, then up at him. “You didn’t answer me.”

“I want to show off Diablo. He’s much better behaved now.”

She let out a laugh. “Diablo?”

Trace smiled. “I don’t know what Matt’s going to call him. Until an hour ago the name seemed appropriate. Are you gonna leave me standing here with my hand out?”

Sighing, her gaze slid to his outstretched palm, then to his chest.

“Don’t worry. I’ll put a shirt on first.”

“I’m not worried about that.” She clutched the mug so tightly he hoped she didn’t break it.

Maybe he was wrong to push her. Maybe he needed to let her take more time to get used to the Lone Wolf. He withdrew his hand and stuffed it in his front pocket. “That’s okay, Nikki,” he said, stepping back. “I should get going, anyway.”

“Are all the horses in their stalls?” she asked in a rush.

“They are.” He paused, knowing he had no business making that assumption. Lester could’ve brought one out to groom. “I’ll make sure they are before you go inside.”

She studied his face, as if trying to decide if she should trust him. “Let me get rid of this,” she said, waving the mug. “Want me to take that water bottle, too?”

“Thanks.” He passed it to her. “Seems you’re always waiting on me. We ever get over to Kalispell, I’ll have to buy you dinner.”

Her lips parted and she darted another look at his chest.

For a second he got excited that she might be interested in going on that drive, then just as quickly regretted mentioning Kalispell again so soon. Though she didn’t tell him to get lost, just went back into the house with the mug and bottle, even left the door open a little so that was a good sign she’d come back.

Skipping the steps, he jumped off the porch and hurried to his truck. If he remembered correctly, the white T-shirt had a small stain and the hem was frayed but it would do. He found it wadded up on the backseat, shook it out and sniffed the armpit area just to be sure. Yeah, it was clean enough.

He pulled the shirt over his head, stuck his arms in the sleeves, tugged down the hem and heard the seam tear. He looked down. It wasn’t just the seam but a large hole in the front. “Well, shit.”

Muffled laughter brought his head up. Watching him from the porch, Nikki tilted her head to the side. “I hadn’t seen that style yet. It’s a good look for you.”

“Hell, I don’t care. I’d wear it like this if I were headed home.”

She shrugged. “Wear it now. I don’t care, either.” She frowned slightly. “Or go without a shirt,” she said, and averted her eyes.

He hid his smile by yanking the T-shirt off. She could shrug and toss her hair as though she was indifferent all she wanted. Right now she was so easy to read it almost felt as if he was cheating. “I bet Matt would lend me one.”

She turned so sharply to him, her ponytail whipped to the side. “Can we just go and get this over with?”

“We can.” He got rid of the shirt and closed the truck door. “Try not to be jumpy. Animals can sense your mood.”

“Well, great because—” She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans and stared down at her track shoes. “You know, don’t you?”

They started to walk. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, his gaze snagging on her slender neck.

“That I’m afraid.”

“I suspected. Is it only horses?”

She kept her head down. “Bulls. I hate bulls, too. I saw Matt ride once…Never again. I wish he’d quit the circuit and stay here.”

“That’s the plan, isn’t it?”

“No, I mean, quit right now. He’s scheduled for five or six more events this year.”

“I’m pretty sure Rachel feels like you do. Bull riding can be a dangerous—” Trace cut himself off. It was too late. He saw her shoulders tense. What the hell was wrong with him? “Matt is good. And he’s careful. He’s got you and Rachel in his life now. He’ll finish his career in one piece.”

“I hope so,” she murmured, hunching her shoulders forward and sounding small and fretful.

Trace slipped his hand around her nape. She shot him a startled look, but he just smiled, left his hand right there and massaged her tense muscles as they continued to walk.

She moved a little closer to him, which kicked his heart rate up. He kept kneading and rubbing her soft warm skin and by the time they reached the stable, she’d started to relax. They hadn’t made it inside yet when one of the horses whickered and she went stiff again. She stopped, probably would’ve jerked away if he hadn’t been caressing the back of her neck. The pulse below her jaw beat wildly.

“Wait right here, okay?” Trace moved his hand to her chin and urged her to look up at him. “I’m going to make sure Lester is done brushing Diablo.”

“Who?”

“He’s a kid who works here.”

She stayed motionless, only her eyes moved to sweep a gaze inside the dim stable.

Trace didn’t want to let go. He’d give just about anything to let his fingers trail down to her collarbone, slip beneath the scooped neckline. Just a little…he only wanted to feel more skin. Hell, he wanted more than that, but for now, what he cared about most was for her not to be afraid.

“Nikki?” He waited for her to look at him. Her eyes were black and filled with so much fear it sliced into his confidence. Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to do. He was good with horses. Everyone assumed he was good with women. And mostly he was…flirting was easy. But he’d never been tested when it really counted. “Can you trust me? I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

She stared into his eyes and moistened her lips. Taking in a deep breath, she lifted her hand, and he expected her to push him away. She held on to his wrist. “No offense. I don’t trust anyone.”

Trace smiled. That wasn’t entirely true but if that’s what she wanted to believe…

Her grip on his wrist tightened. “Does Matt know?”

“Not from me.”

“Whatever happens in there, don’t tell him.”

Now he knew he’d screwed up. Lester was inside. The kid might talk. “I won’t say a word. Will you wait here? I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, her gaze still locked with his, and he wanted to kiss her. Right here, where the sunlight glistened off those soft full lips and glowed from her golden skin. Fear slowly faded from her eyes replaced by something that looked suspiciously like it could be trust. Whatever it was it stopped his foolish thoughts and he let her go before his good sense ended up in the dust.

NIKKI WATCHED TRACE disappear into the cavernous stable. Along with him went her short-lived confidence. That she couldn’t fully appreciate the breadth of his shoulders or the muscular definition of his back told her how out of control her fear had grown. Back at the porch when she couldn’t smell and hear the animals, she’d been real clear that she wanted him with his shirt off. Now all she could think about was whether or not to run.

He wouldn’t force her to get too close to the horses, and even if he tried she’d refuse. But what if being in a stable made everything worse? Oh, she really did believe Trace wouldn’t let any harm come to her, but she also believed that the horses could sense she was terrified. If facing her terror head-on didn’t work, it would be murder living on the Lone Wolf. Maybe she could find an apartment in town. Sadie would know…

From deep inside the stable someone was walking toward her. Not Trace, but a shorter, huskier guy. He was young, she saw when he stepped out of the shadows, his hair lighter. Had to be the guy Trace mentioned. Already she’d forgotten his name.

“Hi,” he said as he got closer, eyeing her with curiosity.

“Hey.” She hugged herself, doing her share of sizing him up as he passed, checking for signs of evil-horse attack.

She casually angled to her left to inspect him from the back. His clothes weren’t torn and there was no blood. He wasn’t limping. All good to know.

“Nikki?”

She must’ve jumped three feet in the air before she spun toward Trace. “God, scare the hell out of me, why don’t you?”

He raised both hands, palms out. “Sorry.”

Okay, for the moment she could appreciate his chest. It was mostly smooth, just a faint dusting of hair between his brown nipples.

“You ready?”

“I guess.” She sucked in as much air as she could manage and wiped her damp palms down the front of her jeans.

“Good. Keep taking deep breaths.”

“If I tell you I have to leave then I’m leaving. Period.”

“Got it.”

“It does not mean I’m opening the subject for negotiation.”

“Glad you cleared that up.”

She swung a look at him. “I’m serious.”

“Me, too. You women seem to think everything requires a discussion.”

Nikki gaped at him, then noticed they’d advanced several feet inside. Bales of hay were stacked in the corner. On a railing three saddles sat in a row. The scent of leather and weirdly, soap, was strong. “Are you purposely being an ass to distract me?”

“Think about it. You ask a guy if he wants to stop for a drink, and he says yes or no. A man asks a woman the same question and what does he get?—‘Oh, I don’t know, isn’t it too late? What do you think?’” He’d raised his pitch to mimic a feminine voice and Nikki almost laughed.

“That’s not true,” she said. “And it’s sexist.”

He finger-combed back his dark hair, and frowned as if giving the matter serious thought. “You’re probably right about it being sexist, but I swear to God it’s true.”

“Really? Ask me again about going to Kalispell and see what I have to say.”

Trace grinned and caught her hand. “I wish we were at the Sundance. Then I’d know all the horses’ names.”

She slowly looked to her left. They were standing in front of the first stall, but she didn’t remember walking this far in.

The horse looked at her with its ears pricked forward.

Nikki moved closer to Trace. “Is it male or female?”

“She’s a mare. You might hear someone refer to her as a roan. That’s for the color. The paint over there might be referred to as a pinto.”

“I won’t touch her,” Nikki said, watching the mare’s nose strain over the stall door. “Any of them.”

“I wouldn’t let you. I don’t know these horses. We’re just having a look.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him as they kept walking.

Despite the fact that he’d been working in the sun and sweating, he smelled nice. Very masculine. Very different. Whatever combination made up his scent it was a turn-on. She almost forgot they were surrounded by horses. For a second she considered sliding her arm around his waist but didn’t. It would be crazy to let this turn into something else. This was perfect. She had an excuse for the clammy palms and racing heart. No need for Trace to know he was partly responsible. The fiery tingle low in her belly was all him.

He rubbed her arm. “Maybe some day when you’re at the Sundance helping Rachel and Jamie I’ll take you to our stable.”

“You’re never there when I am.” She bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t admitted she’d noticed his absence.

“I figured you were trying to avoid me.”

“I only go over to cover for Rachel when she’s busy with Matt or if Jamie calls.”

“Ah. I won’t take it personally then.”

She didn’t have to look to know he was grinning. She much preferred keeping her eye on the stalls as they walked by. A horse at the back made an angry sound. “Gee, don’t tell me…that’s Diablo.”

“He’s still getting used to being penned in.”

“Maybe we should turn around.”

“You’ve trusted me this far. Give me five minutes. You can stand as far back as you want.”

“The next county?” She sighed. “Five minutes.” Neither of them wore a watch. So what? She’d know when it was time to make a run for it.

They got to the last stall, and Trace took his arm from around her shoulders. She moved back as he stood at the stall and stroked the horse’s neck.

“Mustangs have a reputation for being harder to tame and train than other breeds. They’re innately suspicious of humans.”

“So he was wild when Matt bought him?”

“Someone else had him for a short while, but they couldn’t handle him.”

It had taken Trace about three hours. She’d watched him from her window, awed by his patience, never speaking above a whisper. The horse had responded fairly quickly all things considered.

“See this black hair rimming his ear? We call them black points.” Trace stayed focused on the stallion, murmuring things she couldn’t hear. She was beginning to think he’d forgotten about her when he said, “I have a proposition for you, Nikki.”

“What’s that?” she asked, suspicious when his gaze remained on the horse.

“Let me teach you to ride.”

“Diablo?”

“No.” The corners of his mouth quirked, but he kept the smile in check. “I have a Sundance mare in mind.”

She didn’t care if it was a pony. “Why? What’s the point?”

“You live on a ranch. It’ll be easier when you see you have nothing to fear.”

“I’ve been doing just fine by staying in my own corner.”

“You’re also missing out. Horses are terrific animals.” Trace met her eyes. “Come on, Nikki, give me a shot.”

Breathing in deeply, she turned her gaze to the stallion, and watched Trace stroke its velvety neck. “Okay,” she said, the word nearly sticking in her throat. She hated feeling afraid…of anything.




5


THE NEXT DAY Trace waited for Nikki at the agreed upon spot, a grassy field between the Lone Wolf and the Sundance. It was the perfect place because she could easily access it by truck, and yet they’d have privacy.

He’d brought Gypsy, a sweet bay mare that was a guest favorite because of her gentle disposition. She rarely spooked and she was also on the small side, a good size for Nikki to control. Not that he expected her to climb in the saddle right away. She had to get to know Gypsy first and let confidence squeeze out some of the fear.

Damn, he hoped she hadn’t changed her mind. He glanced at his watch. She was only five minutes late. Nothing to sweat over. He thought he’d given her good directions but he might’ve taken a turn or two for granted. There weren’t many landmarks out here.

He checked his phone to make sure she hadn’t called him to cancel, relieved to see he didn’t have a voice mail. It wouldn’t have shocked him if she’d had second thoughts, but she wouldn’t leave him dangling. A moment later he heard the truck, and through the aspens and spruces, saw flashes of chrome reflecting the sunlight.





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