Your'e Still the One (6 page)

“Thanks. Take off your jacket and come to the kitchen.”

She started to shuck off the bulky down number while following him so he wouldn’t have a chance to button up before she got another look. Yes, she was acting like a twelve-year-old. But it was February, and when would she likely see his naked chest again?

Of course there was a gigantically obvious answer. One that had her blushing by the time he set the casserole on the stainless steel stove and turned to look at her.

She pretended her arm was caught in the sleeve and twisted away to free herself.

“Need help?”

“I think I have it.”

Ignoring her, he came around and easily slipped the jacket away from her body. If he knew she’d been faking, trying to cover her embarrassment, he didn’t let on. He simply tossed the jacket on a kitchen chair, then brought his attention back to her, running his gaze down the front of the simple green turtleneck she’d tucked into her jeans.

“Nice job of filling out,” he said, grinning as he leaned back, either for a better look or to duck a slap.

Rachel relaxed and eyed his chest. “I was thinking the same thing about you.” This time she checked him out without a qualm, and noticed two scars that started between his rib cage, angling down until they disappeared behind the shirt.

Apparently they made him self-conscious. He pulled the front of his shirt together and started buttoning. “Yeah, I’ve been beat up some. Damn bulls...ornery sons of bitches.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I need a new job.”

Strange thing for him to say, even if he were joking. According to Trace, Matt was at the top of the heap and bull riders were a different breed of cowboy. They rode until they couldn’t. “You’re okay though, right?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s nothing. Just ugly.”

“I didn’t mean the scars.” She touched his hand, and he froze, leaving the last two buttons unfastened. “Which aren’t ugly.” She traced one of the marks with her thumb, only the part that was exposed, feeling him recoil, seeing the ridges of muscle in his belly tense.

“Rachel,” he murmured, his voice a low uneven rasp. “What are you doing?”

She wondered how far the scar went, but she didn’t dare reach inside his shirt. Fighting an urge to soothe the marred flesh with kisses, she lifted her gaze to his. “Tell me the truth, Matthew, are you all right?”

“Yes, I swear.”

Neither of them looked away. “Isn’t the Houston rodeo in February or March?” she asked, and finally remembered to lower her hand. She didn’t want to—his skin was warm and smooth.... And she could smell the pine soap he’d used. “Trace said you’ve done well there for five consecutive years.”

“What’s your point?” He seemed tense, and she regretted being responsible.

“Why are you here and not there?”

Matt moved back and finished buttoning his shirt. “I can’t make you believe me. But I’m fine. I only pulled out because I have business here. I’m still riding in the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo later. It’s a benefit for kids.”

“I do believe you. I do...it’s just that...” She sighed. “I looked you up on Google this morning. There’s a ton of stuff about you online. I couldn’t even make a dent—”

Exhaling loudly, he moved to the sophisticated silver coffee station that seemed out of place.

“What? It’s not as if I read your diary.”

A black mug already sat on the counter, and he took out another one from an upper oak cabinet. “Google, Yahoo, Twitter, all of that stuff boggles my mind. I’m happy just to make sense of my smartphone.”

“It’s huge and time-consuming, I’ll admit. But I love social networking.”

“Not me. I’m a simple cowboy.” He poured her coffee, then got cream out of the fridge. “Either I win or lose—why anyone would care about all the other crap, I don’t understand.”

She’d read a few blogs about his early career he probably would rather see disappear, but nothing really awful so far. Now his reaction made her more curious. She could ask him.... No, the set of his jaw made it clear that might not go well.

Instead she spooned sugar from the canister into her coffee. “What kills me is that the whole time I was in school you were riding in rodeos all around Dallas and I didn’t know.”

His hand stilled. He didn’t look up but seemed undecided whether or not to pour cream in his mug. “Would you have come to see me?”

“Of course I would have.”

Matt set down the cream. He turned around, leaned back against the blue-pearl granite counter and locked his gaze with hers. “Really?” he asked quietly. “Even after the way I left you?”

6

R
ACHEL
STARED
BACK
AT
HIM
. She seemed to be giving the question serious thought, which he appreciated. “Yes,” she said finally. “I would’ve gone to see you ride.”

He wished she’d been more plain. Watching him ride wasn’t the same as letting him know she was in the audience, or making an attempt to get in touch with him. He could ask. But damn, she’d been careful with her answer and that might be all he would get. It was probably more than he deserved.

She smiled. “It sure would’ve pissed me off if I couldn’t get past those buckle bunnies throwing you their panties and phone numbers.”

“Those women are nuts,” he muttered, and turned back to fix his coffee. Had he already dumped in sugar or not?

“Are you blushing?” Rachel pulled his arm so he’d look at her.

“No.”

“Yes, you are.” She laughed, then squeezed his biceps. “Whoa, you filled out there, too.”

He’d automatically flexed. “Try staying on a two-thousand-pound bull whose mission is to buck you off and pulverize you.”

“Shoot, I missed my calling.” She refused to move her hand, and as much as he liked her touching him, liked her standing so close he could see the tiny gold flecks of humor in her green eyes, in a few seconds it was gonna be awkward.

She smelled as sweet as honeysuckle and her lips were the color of ripe summer berries. And this was the second time since she’d taken off her jacket that she was making him hard. Hard enough that if she glanced down she wouldn’t miss his cock bucking his fly.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her hand trailing away with a reluctance that did nothing to settle him down. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, but I think it’s adorable that you can still blush after all the female attention you get.”

He moved back, held up his hands, as if he had nothing to hide. “I’m not embarrassed.”

She blinked, and though she never actually looked at his fly, he knew the exact moment she became aware of his arousal. Her lips parted slightly, her lashes fluttered, and it seemed to take every bit of her willpower to keep her gaze on his face.

“Um, yeah. Okay.” Color climbed her neck and filled her cheeks. “How about this warm weather we’re having?” she said, unable to finish without laughing. “You’re a horrible person.”

Matt smiled. “A second ago I was adorable.”

“I lied.”

Catching her wrist, he stopped her from moving away and cupped her warm cheek. “You saw the best in me, Rachel. Always. No matter what anyone else said.”

“I missed you so much,” she whispered. “You broke my heart.” Instantly, regret entered her eyes, and he could see she wanted to call back the words.

Selfishly he wished she could. He hadn’t known for sure how she’d reacted to his leaving, but he’d made up great excuses in his head. “You were still young,” he said, offering up his favorite. It was also true, but he’d left without facing her and that act of cowardice still nagged at him.

“I was.” She shrugged and broke away to pick up her coffee. “Sweet sixteen, a time for puppy love and broken hearts. Back then, anyway. Nowadays? Seems sixteen is the new thirty.”

“Times and women have changed, that is for damn sure.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Her lips were curved in the impish smile that once meant he’d end up tongue-tied, privately cursing himself for being a fool.

She’d always loved teasing him, and yeah, when he was a teenager she’d made him blush, which had royally pissed him off. But he’d been powerless to keep away from her. She had the kind of personality, the charismatic pull that drew people in. Her generous spirit made them want to stay. It wouldn’t surprise him if it was Rachel who’d left a string of broken hearts.

He picked up his coffee and gestured at the kitchen table. They needed to sit down, at least he did. His body was finally getting a clue that he and Rachel weren’t headed to happy hour. Didn’t mean he was willing to test his cock’s sketchy memory.

Taking her mug with her, she was first to sit, which allowed him to choose the chair across from her. Their knees might touch but that wouldn’t get him in trouble. The sudden confusion on her face? Different story. Yeah, maybe he owed her more of an explanation, but this wasn’t the time. Not with Nikki upstairs and Wallace likely to show up at any minute.

Rachel sipped from the mug, watching him over the rim, her eyebrows puckered in thought. “I should go,” she said finally, and pushed back from the table. “This isn’t a good time.”

“For you?”

“No, for you.” She paused. “You haven’t seen your father yet, and when you do I doubt you want an audience.”

“I saw him,” Matt said, the image of Wallace passed out on the couch still sharp in his mind.

“Oh, last night you said...” She shook her head, looking confused. “Doesn’t matter. I must’ve misunderstood.”

“Technically, I saw him. But we haven’t spoken. He was drunk when I got here. On his office couch, dead to the world.”

She studied him for a moment, then let her gaze drop to her coffee. “I’m sorry. That had to be disappointing.”

“Nope. Expected. The upside is that Nikki had a chance to get settled in peace.”

The curiosity was back in Rachel’s eyes, and he regretted mentioning Nikki. Whether she met Wallace today or not, he’d decided to talk to her about letting him explain their relationship to Rachel. Now that she’d met the McAllisters, he hoped she’d be cool with it.

“Look, I hope I’m not speaking out of turn,” Rachel said, lowering her voice. “But if things get uncomfortable, we have room for you and Nikki at the Sundance.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it, but I don’t see us sticking around that long.”

“No.” Disappointment clouded her face. “I hate that.”

“Why?” He gave her a neutral smile, tried to sound nonchalant, even though her frank reaction turned his heart into a jackhammer.

“You have to ask why?” She glared at him. “It’s nice seeing you again, knowing you’re okay, knowing that you haven’t gotten too big for your britches.”

A laugh escaped him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, please, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Trace said you have the second-best bull riding record in the country.”

“Nice of Trace to be keeping track of my career.”

She sniffed. “I never followed rodeo so I didn’t know—”

“That wasn’t a jab. I meant it sincerely.” He shrugged. “I like your brothers. I wish I’d known them better when I was younger.”

“I know.” She smiled sadly. “Your father, he doesn’t have many fans but—”

“Don’t worry about him,” Matt cut in, hearing the bitter edge to his own voice. “He knows how to buy loyalty.”

The sympathy in Rachel’s eyes pissed him off almost as much as his own careless slip. No, it wasn’t a slip. Wrong word, because he didn’t care. He felt no love or hate for Wallace; he felt nothing but indifference. And he doubted Wallace remembered he had a son. It seemed a convenient habit for the man to forget he had offspring.

“Look.” Rachel reached across the table to cup her hand over the fist he’d made without realizing. “Obviously I know about your father’s drinking problem. But he’s been looking ill, and whether it’s a result of the booze or not, I just want to say I think it’s admirable that you’ve put your differences aside to come see him. That’s all.” Her hand trailed away as she leaned back. “I won’t bring up the subject again.”

Matt relaxed his fist. Her touch had calmed him some. He’d wondered how much she knew, what her mother might’ve told her. It was clear now that Rachel was in the dark, just as most people were in Blackfoot Falls, he suspected.

His coming home had nothing to do with caring about his father, and Rachel would see that soon enough. Maybe he should give a shit that she might not think so highly of him. And yeah, he did a little, but Rachel had never judged him. As a teenager she’d hotly and privately defended him against Wallace’s injustices. Yet she’d never criticized him for not standing up to the man.

For his mother’s sake, he’d forced himself to keep his cool, even when he’d started busting the seams of his clothes and was big enough to take the old man. Flatten him in the dirt. Keep him prone until he begged for mercy, until he apologized for every harsh word he’d uttered to his wife, every condemning glance he’d sent her, every second he’d made her weep in despair.

Yep, Matt could’ve humbled the bastard. But he’d swallowed his pride and his temper, held himself in check, until his self-control had started to slip. If he hadn’t left, blood would’ve been shed. Wallace’s blood. And as much satisfaction as that would’ve given Matt, it would have only added to his mother’s misery. He never could’ve forgiven himself for that.

Rachel noisily cleared her throat, snapping him out of his preoccupation. “Will you remember the temperature to heat the casserole or should I write it down?”

“You’re not leaving yet.”

“I— You seem to have a lot on your mind.”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s weird being here,” he said. “How about more coffee?”

She smiled. “My feelings won’t be hurt if you want to be alone. I really get it.”

“I want you to stay.” He moved, intent on getting their coffee, and wincing when his chair scraped the wood floor.

“Wow, at my house that’s punishable by a week of table clearing and washing dishes.”

“Ouch. Your mother’s tough.”

“That’s my rule.”

He laughed. “I bet you have your brothers whipped into shape.”

“If only...”

The rest of his coffee was cold so he dumped it in the sink. Rachel got up to help even though he motioned for her to stay seated. They didn’t talk, just fixed each of their coffees, and then Rachel found a sponge and wiped down the counter.

If she’d wondered about his restraint back in the day, she never mentioned it. Never told him what he should do or pushed him into taking action. Pretty remarkable now that he thought about it. Not just because she herself had a spine of steel but because of her own experience. She’d had a perfect family until her father died when she was fourteen. Matt would bet his last dollar that Gavin McAllister had never abused his role as a father.

Everyone in the county liked and respected the man—how he did business, treated his neighbors and loved his family. He’d produced another fine generation of McAllisters, a strong daughter and exemplary sons. People had said so, over and over again, without being asked as they stepped up to his casket. Even the old-timers hadn’t been able to keep their eyes dry.

Two men couldn’t be more different than Wallace Gunderson and Gavin McAllister. Matt never heard talk, but he knew what people thought. No one would go to Wallace’s funeral. Well, Lucy would. As their housekeeper she’d seen plenty, but she was still loyal.

Either she was bucking for sainthood or, more likely, her diligence was his mother’s doing. The woman could make a person promise things they regretted a moment later. Too bad Catherine Gunderson hadn’t been able to work her magic on her husband.

Out of guilt, Matt rinsed the sink, and even used the spray nozzle since Rachel seemed determined to clean the countertop to death.

He sat down first so she would quit fussing and join him. “How long you plan on staying at the Sundance?”

Her back was to him and he couldn’t see her face, but the way she stiffened had him examining his own question. “Why?” she asked, squeezing out the sponge, then tucking it behind the spigot before turning around. “That’s an odd question. Except for college, I’ve lived there all my life.”

“Yeah.” He waited until she sat again. “So? Going to college, getting a degree, that had to change your outlook.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then pressed her lips together and shook her head.

Obviously it was a loaded question, but he hadn’t meant to put her on the spot. “You seem happy. I don’t know why I asked.”

“I have a responsibility to keep the dude ranch profitable and running smoothly, at least for now.”

He knew last night that her being here had something to do with helping her family. She’d slithered out of an explanation, calling it complicated, but he knew Rachel. She was doing what she always did—she was taking the bull by the horns, finding solutions, making things work, even if it meant shelving her own dreams for a while. He didn’t fault her for delaying her future to help her family. Her selfless nature was one of the many things about her he admired.

“And later?” he asked. “What are you looking at doing down the road?”

“Hotel management. That’s what I have a degree in.” Her lips pulled into a wry smile. “Ironic, huh? I end up running a dude ranch.”

“Good practice.”

“Funny.” She slumped back. “My mom and brothers have no idea how I feel, so you can’t say anything.”

“They won’t hear it from me.” He sipped his coffee, bothered that she didn’t feel she could freely confide in them. “You might decide you aren’t cut out for dealing with guests. I’ve stayed in my share of hotels, and I’ve seen the staff jump through hoops trying to please guests. It’s kind of sickening.”

“That’s just part of the biz.”

“Maybe so, but I know that temper of yours.”

She glared, her lips parted, and then let out a huffing snort that made him laugh. She crumpled a paper napkin from the silver holder and threw it at him.

He caught it midchest. “You see what I mean?”

“I can behave like an adult when I need to. Apparently you bring out the worst in me.”

“You can’t blame me for that purple hair. I wasn’t even here.”

“What?” She was trying to stare him down and not laugh. “For your information, this is very stylish.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yes, it is.”

“You wouldn’t have trouble getting a hotel manager’s job looking like that?”

“Well, I’m not looking for one right now, am I?”

“I reckon family-owned dude ranches aren’t so picky.”

The fire disappeared from her eyes and she seemed to deflate right in front of him. “No,” she said. “So there is that upside.”

“Hey.” He reached across the table for her hand. “You know I’m just teasing.”

Her lips twitched into a smile, though not the one he was hoping for. He’d unintentionally hit a nerve. “You sure had me fooled. I used to think you were such a sweet boy.”