Читать книгу You're Still the One - Debbi Rawlins - Страница 9

WALLACE WAS DRUNK. Passed out on the old rawhide couch in his office, his jaw slack, his graying hair poking out every which way. Half a bottle of Jim Beam sat on the wood floor an inch from where his arm dangled off to the side.

Staring at him in disgust, Matt was glad he’d left Nikki in the truck. She didn’t need to see this; no one did. Matt breathed in deep, wondering how many times his mother had to walk in to find her worthless husband sprawled out, spittle dried at the corners of his mouth. Wallace hadn’t been this bad the first time Matt had put Blackfoot Falls in his rearview mirror.

Even so, a couple times he’d walked in when his mother had just shaken out a blanket over the old man. She’d tucked it around him and kissed his forehead, then went to bed by herself. It killed Matt that she was so patient and tolerant. He hadn’t understood then, and never would get why she’d stayed in the marriage. He’d begged her to leave Wallace. But she’d always just smiled, said she loved him and maybe someday he’d change.

Then Matt found out about Wallace’s affair with Rosa Flores. From his own mother. She’d known for over fifteen years, even that a child was involved. And still she’d stayed. Now she was gone, and Matt missed her, missed their secret phone calls. He missed the garbled texts she’d sent him from the smartphone he’d bought her so they could communicate without Wallace knowing.

He smiled, thinking about how she’d never gotten the hang of texting or sending emails. She’d sure liked getting his, though, and quickly figured out how to read them.

There were still days when Matt struggled against his anger. At her. Sometimes at himself. Always at Wallace. No one could convince Matt the stress of living with the bastard hadn’t shortened her life.

She’d claimed she loved Wallace. Love. What the hell did that word mean? It was supposed to be something good. Something that made you happy, stronger, passionate…even country songs touted its virtue. But obviously love could also make you stupid.

Matt ran his gaze over his father’s frail form. He seemed shorter, narrower, definitely not the same big man who’d doggedly bullied Matt over schoolwork, how he rode a horse or mucked the stables. Sometimes Wallace had scared the crap out of him.

Funny, he thought, watching the drool slip from a corner of Wallace’s open mouth, he’d been worried his hatred of the man would seep out like venom in front of Nikki. But Matt actually felt pity seeing him lie there, his life nothing but a wasteland. The letter Matt had received from his mother’s friend about Wallace being sick hadn’t mentioned the diagnosis. Matt assumed it was either cancer or cirrhosis, but he didn’t know.

Hell, maybe the booze helped dull the pain.

Cursing at himself, Matt scooped the fallen magazines off the floor and tossed them onto the oak coffee table. What the hell was he doing making excuses for the old drunk? That logic didn’t wash anyway. He’d been a drinker since Matt was a small kid.

He glanced around at the used glasses and opened mail that littered the desk and table. Obviously it was Lucy’s day off or the place would’ve been tidier. He was kind of glad since he would’ve hurt her feelings by not calling ahead. No sense in him cleaning up. He wouldn’t bring Nikki in here, not with Wallace passed out like this. Matt wanted the man sober, clearheaded enough that he might use the chance to do right by Nikki and give her some answers.

After closing the office door, Matt surveyed the family room, then stuck his head in the kitchen. The rest of the house seemed okay. He doubted anyone had recently used the guest room where he planned on putting Nikki. Knowing Lucy, she kept it dusted, and if not, the room would still be better than the dingy one-bedroom apartment Nikki called home.

He walked outside to where his truck waited in front of the house. The sky was getting dark and he couldn’t see Nikki through the tinted windows, but he knew she was there. She wouldn’t have gotten out of the cab.

To the left of the barn the long rectangular bunkhouse was lit up. It was suppertime for the men, which had been part of Matt’s arrival plan. Several hired hands had been with the Lone Wolf for over twenty years. They knew their jobs, and Wallace left them alone. Matt liked one of the old-timers in particular, but he hadn’t wanted to run into anyone before he’d seen Wallace.

Nikki cracked the door open when he got close. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice nervous. “You were gone a long time.”

“Sorry,” he said glancing at his watch.

“So? Are we staying or leaving?”

“Staying.” He opened the back door of the extended cab to get their bags.

He noticed her gaze stray toward the house, but she didn’t make a move to get out. He’d turned on a foyer lamp but he should’ve flipped on a couple more. The place was big, two and a half stories, with lots of natural stone and wood, and looking eerie in the dusky twilight. It was a well-built home constructed in the 1920s after the original log cabin burned to the ground.

“What did he say about you being here?” she asked, pushing the door open all the way.

“He’s asleep.” He paused. “Maybe drunk.” Matt yanked out the small duffel he’d brought, annoyed at himself for pussyfooting around the truth. But unlike his mother, he wasn’t trying to protect Wallace. Matt sighed. It wasn’t like she wouldn’t know…. “He is drunk. Doubt he’ll be waking up anytime soon.”

She stared at the house, still gripping the door handle. “We can’t just go in there.”

“Yeah, we can. It’s my house, too.” He almost added it was equally hers, but she didn’t like hearing anything to do with the Trust or her being a Gunderson. “We’ll get you settled in the guest room, then put something together for dinner. We’ll have the kitchen to ourselves.” He saw how thrilled she was with that idea. “Or go eat at the diner in town. Up to you.”

She quietly closed her door and reached around him for the bag of bread, cold cuts and cheese they’d bought at the Food Mart. “I’m not hungry, but I vote we go out.”

“Okay.” He grabbed her bag with his other hand and used his elbow to close the truck door. “After we eat I have to make a stop. Another ranch not too far from here called the Sundance.”

“Tonight?”

They walked side by side toward the porch. “Yeah, I probably should.” No need to point out they could be headed back to Texas come morning. He didn’t think so, though the possibility existed. But he couldn’t leave without seeing Barbara McAllister. He owed her a debt, and he aimed to pay it.

“I SHOULD WAIT IN THE TRUCK,” Nikki murmured as they walked toward the McAllister house, all lit up as if there might be a party inside.

“You’ll like them. You won’t meet nicer people.” He bumped her shoulder. “Three brothers, all good-looking guys.”

“Bet they’re flattered you noticed.”

Matt shook his head, sliding her an irritated look. Truthfully he was glad she’d relaxed enough to joke around. Meeting genuine folks like the McAllisters would help make her more comfortable and give her a better feeling for Blackfoot Falls. He’d mentioned that it would be safe to tell them she was his sister, but she wasn’t ready and insisted that she be introduced as a friend.

They got to the porch and he looked over at her. “How you doing, sis? You okay?”

She wasn’t shy or timid, but she always blushed a little when he called her sis. Tossing her hair back, she eyed the big glass window. “You country people have some weird customs. Someone shows up at my door without calling, I don’t answer.”

“Uh, yeah, I know.”

“And yet you’ve learned nothing.”

Ignoring her sigh, he got a good look inside as they mounted the steps. Not that he’d admit it, but he suddenly had second thoughts about the surprise visit. There were a lot of people moving around the living room, mostly young women. Just his luck Mrs. McAllister was having a Tupperware party or some damn thing like that.

“We can still turn around,” Nikki whispered.

“Nah.” He knocked on the door, waited, heard the music and laughter inside, and tried again, only louder.

“Still think this is a good time?”

He stepped back. “Maybe not.”

The door opened. A blonde he didn’t know smiled at them. She had a drink in one hand, and waved them inside with the other. “Come in.”

He looked past her, hoping to see Cole or Trace, anyone he recognized. At least half a dozen women were sitting in the living room sipping drinks near the fireplace, and several more stood toward the back. They were all dressed up, some of them wearing fancy sweaters, high-heeled city boots and skintight pants. Like they were vacationing at one of those pricey ski lodges. Nobody looked familiar.

His gaze caught on a nice ass in a pair of worn jeans, small waist…

He blinked hard at the loose auburn curls that skimmed her shoulders. Only one woman he knew had hair that deep sexy reddish-brown shade.

She turned around. Her gaze connected with his and her green eyes widened. The smile slipped from her pink lips. She looked exactly how he felt. Stunned. “Matt?”

“Rachel?” he said at the same time. “What are you doing here?”

“Me?” She handed her drink to the blonde still standing at the door. “I live here,” Rachel said with a strained laugh as she wiped her palms down her jeans. “Come on in.”

Man, he hadn’t expected this. But he really had no choice but to stay. Best he could do was keep it short. Turning around now would make him look like a damn fool.

His feet couldn’t seem to move. “Hey, I can come back tomorrow. Obviously you’re having a party. I should’ve called.”

Behind him Nikki snorted.

Rachel smiled at her. “Get in here, Matthew Gunderson, so I can close the door, and you can make an introduction.”

Sighing, he stomped his boots on the mat, shaking off loose gravel and dried mud, then tried to let Nikki go first but she gave her head a small shake.

“It’s so nice to see you, Matt,” Rachel said as soon as he and Nikki stepped inside. After hesitating a moment, Rachel gave him a hug.

His arms automatically came up around her, and he prayed she couldn’t feel his heart pounding against his chest. The embrace was brief, somewhat awkward, as if it was fulfilling an obligation and not something she wanted to do.

Maybe it was his fault. He might’ve held her a little too tight. Exhaling slowly, he moved farther back, hoping to erase any wrong signal on his part.

“I’m Rachel,” she said to Nikki, who then introduced herself, since Matt’s dry mouth couldn’t seem to work. “And don’t worry, it’s not a party, not really,” Rachel said, talking fast, her pitch higher than he remembered. “Let’s go find my brothers. Would you like a drink?”

Nikki looked to him for an answer, the question in her eyes plain. Staying or leaving? Finally she said, “I’ll take a beer if you have one.”

“We do, in addition to wine, margaritas and a weird punch my brother concocted—” Rachel caught him staring at her. She blinked, glanced away, then returned her gaze to him, a stubborn glint in her eyes he knew well. “What?”

“Your hair.” He chuckled. “It’s purple—”

“Oh.” Her hand shot up to touch her head, and she blushed.

“God, Matt.” Nikki glared at him. “It’s the style.”

“I know. But Rachel’s not the type to…” Hell, what did he know? Apparently nothing, judging by the way both women stared at him. Nikki’s brown eyes told him he was a jerk for having laughed. Rachel didn’t seem embarrassed anymore, but somewhat amused.

“Let’s go get your drinks,” Rachel said, giving her hair a toss as if to say, “yeah, it’s purple, so what?” and then leading them in the direction of the dining room.

That was something else he remembered about her. Whenever she got embarrassed or tongue-tied she recovered quickly. He’d envied her that neat trick. Not him. Once he got bucked outta the saddle, he had a heck of a time thinking on his feet. After winning a bunch of titles and having so many microphones shoved in his face, he would’ve thought he’d be better at a comeback.

“It really is a party,” someone whispered from behind.

He turned his head. It was the blonde from the door. She was following them.

With a flirty smile, she leaned closer. “It’s Rachel’s birthday.”

Matt shot a look back at Rachel. He’d known the date, but he’d totally forgotten. Probably blocked it out. He’d never regretted leaving Blackfoot Falls, but he had regretted leaving Rachel…the day before her sixteenth birthday.

IF RACHEL HAD TO SMILE for a minute longer, her face was going to split in half. Or crack. Or do something equally unattractive. The second she’d heard Matt was in town she knew she’d see him at some point, but she hadn’t expected him to knock on her door.

Wow, she wished she hadn’t let Trace talk her into a glass of the lethal punch he’d cooked up. Especially not after the tequila shots earlier with Jamie. Her head was spinning, she was jabbering like a hormonal parrot, and good God, if her voice squeaked any higher she’d have to pass out earplugs.

Her best defense was to find her brothers. They’d keep Matt busy talking. Of course the subject of Matt had come up at dinner and she’d learned that Trace and Cole had been following his rodeo career. According to them, he’d made quite a name for himself…. He was like a rock star in the sport of bull riding.

She vaguely recalled her mother mentioning he’d started rodeoing seven years ago. Apparently Rachel hadn’t been in the mood to hear about him. It wasn’t until she moved away that she could think of him with any objectivity. And then it hadn’t mattered because after the homesickness passed, she’d adapted quickly to college life. Yes, she’d enjoyed coming home for the holidays, but she was always ready to return to her independence and the lights of Dallas.

Still, she wondered if he’d ever understood how badly he’d crushed her tender heart. Probably not. At the time he thought she was too young for him. It was more likely that he’d passed her affection off as a phase that had faded within a week.

She stopped at the dining room table, covered with filled ice buckets, glasses, chilling wine and a big bowl of Trace’s pinkish-orange punch sitting next to the leftover birthday cake. The lettering was mostly gone and you couldn’t tell the cake was for her. She was glad about that. Though not so happy to see that the beer hadn’t been replenished in the silver cooler.

“Okay,” she said, picking up glasses and holding them up to the light just to be sure they were clean. “We have more beer in the family room wet bar, also a blender of margarita mix in the kitchen. And this? My brother’s 100 proof…frankly, I’m not sure what to call it. He says punch.”

“Let me guess….” Matt smiled. “Trace?”

Rachel nodded. “He was only seventeen when you left, and still you know.”

Matt’s smile faded. The cautious way he met her eyes removed any doubt he was thinking about that night—him leaving, not saying a word, the inadequate note he’d left for her….

If they were alone she’d tell him it was okay. He didn’t have to worry. It wouldn’t be a lie, but seeing each other again after all those years was stirring up crazy and unexpected feelings. At least for her.

Oh, God…an annoying thought struck her. She’d done the math. She could’ve made any sort of joke about Trace not changing. Most people wouldn’t remember it had been exactly ten years since Matt left. But she did. Ten years and one day.

Jeez, what was wrong with her? Until she’d seen him earlier, she really hadn’t been thinking about him. Even if she had, too bad. He had Nikki. And she was gorgeous with her long dark hair, olive skin and light brown eyes.

“So…” Rachel pretended to study the table and cleared her throat. “What will it be?”

“I’ve changed my mind about the beer,” Nikki said. “I might need the punch.” She glanced at Matt, who eyed her with a touch of amusement and an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Their private look depressed Rachel. It shouldn’t have—she had no business having any reaction. Carefully keeping her gaze lowered, she grabbed the tongs to put ice in the glass.

“I can do that myself,” Nikki said. “Matt, I know you want a beer, so why don’t you two go get it. I’ll find you.”

Rachel looked up. He was watching her with blue eyes she remembered differently. Had she been too young to notice the smoldering intensity? “Beer?”

“Unless your brothers wiped them out.”

“They better not have.” She moved around the table, smiling at Nikki. “Help yourself to the cake. Or anything in the kitchen,” she added, feeling a bit guilty.

It would make sense to wait for her since it took seconds to ladle punch into a glass. But Rachel wanted Matt to herself, even if only for two minutes.

“Thanks,” Nikki said. “The cake does look good. I just might have a piece.”

Matt’s brows drew together in a puzzled frown directed at Nikki, who ignored him and switched places with Rachel so she could get to the punch bowl.

“You want to wait for her?” Rachel asked, unnerved to be near enough to see a small scar on his beard-roughened chin.

“Nah, she’s okay. I never have to worry about that one.”

Except he did, Rachel could see it in his lingering gaze, and she felt horrible for being disappointed. But when he touched the small of her back as she slipped past him, she felt something else altogether.

It was crazy, inappropriate, unacceptable, yet she couldn’t make herself unfeel the sizzling electric shock that had flowed from his palm up her spine. She sincerely hoped it was the cumulative effect of the day’s booze causing her to act like a dope. She wasn’t the type of woman to covet a man who was taken. He was with Nikki, though Rachel didn’t believe they were married, and not just because of the lack of rings. It was simply a gut feeling. Had she kept her mouth shut instead of babbling when she first saw them, he would’ve introduced Nikki himself.

“I don’t know any of these people, do I?”

Rachel started. It wasn’t his question that made her jump, but the proximity of his mouth to her ear…his warm breath gliding over her skin. She’d already led him through the living room without realizing it. The guests were all staring at him—of course they were, they were women.

Her birthday celebration had included them, and they’d heard the dinner talk. Now they were putting two and two together, and they were checking out the hot, sexy rodeo star.

“You don’t,” she said, pausing to clear her head enough to ensure her voice and brain were in sync. Obviously he didn’t know about the dude ranch part of the Sundance. “So much has happened just in the past year….”

They had to sidestep Carla, a guest from Indianapolis, who blocked their path to the family room. She got in a breathy, “Hi,” aimed at Matt before they could pass her.

“Evenin’,” he said, giving her a polite smile.

“Have some cake, Carla,” Rachel said pleasantly, but stayed on course. She tilted her head closer to Matt. “We’re going to keep walking or else you can forget about your beer.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, which probably shouldn’t have made Rachel smile because his grim tone indicated he might be sick of too much female attention at this point in his career.

She wondered how he’d handled the buckle-bunny phenomena. Although the rodeo scene had never interested her, she knew about the groupies who followed the circuit. It didn’t matter if the guy was attractive. If he was at the top of his game, he was getting a whole lot of hotel room keys stuffed in his pockets.

For Matt, it had to be a double whammy. He’d always been good-looking with his sun-lightened hair and beautiful blue eyes. It wasn’t just her opinion. Half the girls in high school, all four grades, had secretly crushed on him. Yet he’d only had one girlfriend. They’d both been sophomores, as serious as two fifteen-year-olds can be…until his father had humiliated him in front of Emily and then ran her off the Lone Wolf.

Now, almost thirty, Matt was even better-looking than he’d been at nineteen. The years had given his face more character, with fine lines at the outside corners of his eyes, grooves along his sexy mouth that apparently she’d been unable to suitably appreciate in her youth. His nose seemed different, though, a bit crooked.

“Rachel, wait.” He caught her arm just outside the family room.

Her heart nearly stopped. Had he noticed her staring? If he felt compelled to point out he was with Nikki and not interested in straying, Rachel would just die. Right here. Right now, on her twenty-sixth birthday. So sad.

She did as he asked, but he didn’t let go. Staring into each other’s eyes, they stood in a small semi-private foyer that was the result of an addition to the original house.

Matt smiled. “It’s good to see you.” He stroked his palm down her arm to her hand, and lightly squeezed.

“Yeah, you, too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t remember.”

“What?”

He lowered his head, slowly closing the distance between their mouths.

Rachel sucked in a breath so hard she thought she’d pass out. Holy crap, he was going to kiss her….

He moved his head, just a tad, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”