From This Moment On Read online

  “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 a
nswer 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.”