Your'e Still the One Page 3

  Mostly their interest was aimed at his rodeo career. He’d done well in the past six years, won titles and buckles, banked a small fortune in prize money, and the attention came with the territory. Early on he’d promised himself he’d never let his head get too big for his hat. A couple of veteran bronc riders on the circuit had been prime examples of how having a few extra bucks in your pocket could change a man. Turn him into someone he’d end up despising down the road.

  Like Wallace. Except his father had always been miserable and cantankerous as far back as Matt could recall, and not just with him. Wallace’s bad temper had extended to his wife, Matt’s mother, and that he’d found intolerable. But she’d refused to leave the bastard, which Matt had never understood, and never would.

  And now the miserable buzzard was sick, and Matt could honestly say he didn’t give a damn. Any feelings he’d once had for the man had disappeared years ago. Matt had only come back for Nikki. She was confused and angry and needed closure before the old man kicked the bucket.

  There was also the issue of the Lone Wolf. The ranch had been in the family for over a hundred and thirty years. According to the trust, the land had to be passed to another Gunderson. Whether the old man acknowledged her or not, Nikki had a right to half of everything. Gunderson blood flowed through her veins, and as far as Matt was concerned, she could have the whole operation—the land, the house, all of it. The place had been profitable, assuming Wallace hadn’t run it into the ground, and Nikki needed the money. Needed to quit the dive bars she’d been working, maybe get herself an education.

  The week before she died, his mother had told him about Nikki. He’d finally met her a year ago in Houston, and sometimes it was still hard to believe he had a sister. Officially she was his half sister, but so what? She was related to him by blood.... She was family. His sister without the technical bullshit attached. And he wanted the best for her.

  Even if it meant facing the crazy old drunk a final time. Matt only hoped there was enough left of the Lone Wolf to give Nikki a fresh start. But then Wallace would’ve had to crawl pretty far into the bottle to let the place deteriorate. Besides drinking and being mean, the other thing he did consistently was try to one-up the McAllisters.

  Matt sucked in some air. Man, he couldn’t think about them without picturing Rachel. He didn’t expect to see her, and he was sorry about that. But someone as bright and pretty and outgoing as her wouldn’t stick around Blackfoot Falls. Rachel had far too much going for her. He’d reminded himself of that a hundred times the night he left ten years ago. Later, it had been no surprise to find out she’d gone to college. If she hadn’t, now that would’ve shocked him.

  “You’re tense,” Nikki said. “If you’ve changed your mind, we can turn around right now, be back in Houston by tomorrow night.”

  Matt glanced over at her. Her knees were drawn to her chest and she rocked gently against the seat belt. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said.

  “I’m serious. We don’t have to do this. The bastard will probably deny he’s my father and we’ll have come for nothing.”

  From the first day he met her, Nikki had always referred to Wallace as ‘the bastard.’ Then one night, after four shots of tequila with beer backs, Matt pointed out that technically she was the bastard. Silence had stretched long enough for him to regret teasing her. But then she’d smacked his arm and they’d laughed so loud the bartender told them to shut up or leave.

  “What are you smiling about?” she asked, nerves making her mild Texas drawl more pronounced.

  “Just wondering what you’re gonna call him.” Matt rested his wrist on the steering wheel, letting his hand dangle. “You’ve got choices...Wallace...you stupid bastard...Mr. Gunderson. You should be thinking about these things.”

  “You jerk.” Laughing, Nikki shoved his shoulder. “I never should’ve let you talk me into this.” She hugged her knees again. “I wish we’d stopped at that bar in town. I could’ve used something to calm my nerves.”

  “Yeah, that was the Watering Hole. Or some people call it Sadie’s. She owns the place. Nice lady, though I’ve only been in there once. I left Blackfoot Falls before I was legal.”

  “So why did you go in there? To get the stupid bastard?” She exhaled sharply. “Yeah, I decided. Stupid bastard works for me.”

  Matt smiled. “Something like that.” Hard to forget that day his mother had sent him to find Wallace.

  He’d just turned sixteen, and the new heifer was about to drop her calf prematurely. His mother had worried Wallace would be furious if he wasn’t told. She was right, though Matt had known either way he was screwed. The minute Wallace caught sight of him walking into the bar he’d flown into a rage.

  He hadn’t gotten physical, but he’d ranted and cussed at Matt the entire ride home. That day, for the first time in his life, Matt had been tempted to beat the crap out of him. For his mom’s sake he’d held his temper. She was the reason he hadn’t packed his bags the day he graduated from high school two years later. When he’d eventually ended up leaving, it was damn ironic his decision had also been because of her.

  Nikki finally settled back in the leather seat and stared out her window. Except for the Rocky Mountains in the distance, there wasn’t much to see on the road to the Lone Wolf. Especially in February with the ground patchy with snow. Once they turned north there’d be more trees and hills to liven the landscape.

  “You disappointed there isn’t more snow?” he asked after a while. She hadn’t been this quiet since they stopped in Oklahoma.

  “A little.” She motioned with her chin. “Why is there so much more on the mountains?”

  “Higher elevation.” When he was a kid he never counted on seeing the dirt until late March. At times they’d be buried up to their knees with snow. But it was warmer this year than most.

  Or so people had claimed in the Food Mart after their questions got too personal and he’d froze them out. They were all curious about Nikki, of course, but he’d refused to oblige them. He’d introduced her as a friend. No need for anyone to know who she was until they saw how the meeting with Wallace played out.

  “Pretty country,” she said. “Not flat like Houston.”

  “Yeah, I do miss the mountains. Hey, you know it could still snow later tonight or tomorrow.” He knew she wanted to see it falling. “Don’t let the blue skies fool you.”

  Her lips lifted in a faint smile. “You think we’ll be here that long?”

  “Yep,” he said, but he’d hesitated a moment longer than he should’ve, and she sighed. The thing was, he truly didn’t see them turning around too fast. If only because it might take a few rounds to knock some sense into Wallace’s thick skull. “You want to play a word game?”

  “No,” she said, laughing and groaning at the same time. “You really have to learn to lose gracefully.”

  “Dammit, I didn’t lose. We’re tied.” They’d played every car game he knew, mostly to distract her. Though he had to admit she’d surprised him. She was clever, street-smart if not book-smart, but she also understood people. Once she took a man’s measure, she wasn’t far off the mark. “We’re about ten minutes out. Any more questions before we get there?”

  She straightened her legs, putting her feet on the floorboard, then pulled her shoulders back as if ready to do battle. It wouldn’t come to that. Matt wouldn’t let it. “You still don’t think we should call first?”

  “Nope.” He wasn’t as confident on taking that stand. Somewhere between the Food Mart and his truck, it struck him that he could’ve called Lucy to give her a heads-up and get one himself. The woman wasn’t just a housekeeper, she was a saint.

  He knew she was still tending to Wallace three days a week, even though she was getting on in years. She’d been hired a month before Matt was born, had witnessed more than a few of Wallace’s tirades and had been a champ through his mother’s illness.

  Yep, he probably should’ve called Lucy. Hell.

  Too late now.


  They were officially on Gunderson land, the place he’d sworn he’d never come back to.

  3

  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.”