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 become 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

June 2013

FROM THIS MOMENT ON

August 2013

And remember, the sexiest cowboys are Made in Montana!

Dear Reader,

One of the great joys of writing a series with recurring characters is the anticipation factor. For me, I mean. Ever since I wrote the first character sketch of Wallace Gunderson, that horrible man who appeared in the first book, I knew he would bring a lot of secrets and lies along with him. Enough to rock Blackfoot Falls down to the roots.

But, he also brought along troubled, angry Matt Gunderson, his son. Matt had run the moment he was able and became a bull-riding champion. Now he’s come back, and no one is more shocked than Rachel McAllister, who never got over the love of her life.

It’s not exactly a modern version of Romeo and Juliet, but it was even more fun to write than i’d imagined. I hope you like it, too.

All my best,

Debbi Rawlins

About the Author

DEBBI RAWLINS lives in central utah, out in the country, surrounded by woods and deer and wild turkeys. it’s quite a change for a city girl who didn’t even know where the state of Utah was until a few years ago. Of course, unfamiliarity has never stopped her. Between her junior and senior years of college, she spontaneously left her home in Hawaii and bummed around Europe for five weeks by herself. And much to her parents’ delight, returned home with only a quarter in her wallet.

You’re Still

the One

Debbi Rawlins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

1

WITHOUT FEELING AN OUNCE of guilt, Rachel McAllister, still wearing her blue flannel pajamas and comfy robe, left her mother in the kitchen to make breakfast and plopped down on the leather couch in the den with her laptop. Today was her birthday and she was taking the day off. Well, not the whole day. That would be impossible unless she left the Sundance. Upstairs in the guest wing, a dozen women were in the midst of waking up, applying war paint or debating over which inappropriate outfit to wear for their sleigh ride through the foothills.

This was February in Montana, the temperature near freezing and no strongly worded advice Rachel posted on the Sundance’s website made a bit of difference. The women came dressed more to impress her brothers than to stay warm. God bless the McAllister boys. All three of them were terrific ranchers, even better eye candy, and the reservations by adventurous single women kept on coming. Good for the bottom line each month, not so good for Rachel’s sad little life.

She couldn’t complain, though, since it had been her idea to make part of the family homestead a dude ranch. They needed the income until their real business of raising cattle, and the economy in general, recovered. Then she’d be free again. Free to pursue a career, live in the bright lights of the city, wear high heels and orange sweaters that clashed horribly with her auburn hair, without anyone giving her a second look. And hopefully, barter her master’s degree for a cool job with a hotel chain that would send her to even cooler places.

But the ranch—her family—had paid for that graduate degree and she owed them big-time. They didn’t feel that way, of course. She was the youngest, the only girl, and her mother and brothers would do anything for her—including keeping her in the dark about the family’s floundering finances while paying her tuition. Yet she should’ve known…would have seen it if she hadn’t been so self-absorbed and living the good life in Dallas.

Through five generations of McAllisters the threethousandacre Sundance had been one of the most prosperous ranches around. Not once had it occurred to her that they were struggling just like any other business in the livestock industry that was dependent on beef consumption and gas prices.

No, she’d turned a blind eye for years, going to school, cashing the monthly expense checks they sent her…. The idea shamed her so much she couldn’t bear to think about it. And she wouldn’t. Not today. Not on her twenty-sixth birthday. She’d cut herself a break. Just for a few hours…

Her laptop stirred to life and she checked email first, grinning at the string of funny birthday messages from her college friends. Her sophomore roommate, Ashley, had sent an e-card of a male stripper strategically holding a birthday cake. Rachel laughed, glancing toward the door to make sure she was still alone.

She opened several more e-cards and found that everyone seemed to be on the same cheesy track. The semi-naked men would be far more amusing if she hadn’t been celibate for so damn long. Almost eight months since she’d returned home, and before that another four since she’d split from her casual relationship with Tom, a third-year law student. Great. Her dry spell was about to reach the anniversary mark.

Sighing, she clicked the mouse on last year’s birthday bash. Twenty-five, a milestone according to her friends who’d used the excuse to go all out. She smiled at the picture of Katy popping the cork. It had been eight-thirty, and they hadn’t even made it to their first club yet.

“Ah, here you are.”

At the sound of Jamie’s voice, Rachel nearly lost her laptop. She kept it from sliding to the floor but didn’t close it in time.

Jamie leaned over to better see the picture. “Oh, my God, is that you?”

“Um, yep.” Rachel set the laptop to the side and closed it. “What’s up?”

“Let me see.” With an elbow, Jamie nudged her over, then dropped to the couch beside her. “When was that taken?”

Rachel really liked her brother Cole’s girlfriend and was thrilled she’d moved to the Sundance just last week. They’d become fast friends even before the move, while Jamie had been a guest. But Rachel wasn’t sure she wanted to share this other side of herself yet. Her family didn’t know about her wanting to leave and they’d be hurt. “It’s pretty boring stuff since you don’t know anyone.”

“I know you. Happy birthday, by the way. That’s why I came looking for you.”

“Thanks. I think.” Rachel put her hands on her cheeks and tested the elasticity of her skin.

“Oh, please.” Jamie snorted. “Now you’re just gonna piss me off. Wait till you’re twenty minutes away from the big three-0.”

“You have two years yet.”

“It goes by fast.” Jamie’s gaze went to the laptop. “Were those Halloween pictures?”

“Hey.” Rachel made a face. “They’re from my last birthday.”

“You’re joking.” Jamie stared at her. “Come on, let me see.”

Rachel got it. All she wore were jeans and oversize flannel shirts these days. Perfect for the ranch. “All right, look, you can’t say anything to Cole, or anyone else.”

Jamie shrugged, obviously confused. “Okay.”

Rachel opened the laptop and brought up the pictures, surrendering the computer when Jamie reached for it.

“You were still in Dallas last year, right?” Jamie studied the image of Rachel in a snug pink top, short black leather skirt and glittery charcoal-colored stilettos. She was wearing full makeup, her fuchsia lips puckered in a kiss she was blowing to the camera. The same pink color as her top wove through her bangs.

She nodded, even though Jamie was too absorbed with the radical image to look up. “I was working on my master’s and sharing a house with three other women.”

Jamie clicked on the picture of Chloe, Katy and Liz, who all looked effortlessly big-city chic. “Your roommates?”

“We met while living in the dorms, then found a house we could afford right before senior year. My share didn’t cost any more than a dorm room.” Only when Jamie gave her a curious look did Rachel realize she’d sounded defensive.

“They threw you the party, I assume.”

“Um, no party. We were getting ready to go club hopping when someone snapped these. The fun started much later.”

Jamie grinned at the champagne toast they were making in the next photo. “Please tell me you didn’t get hammered too early.”

“Why do you think we had to chronicle the night?”

Jamie laughed. “Seriously?”

“No.” Rachel smiled. “I was fine. If nothing else, those ridiculous heels kept me in line.”

“You mean those weren’t part of your normal attire?”

“More than you might think. I have three other pairs.”

“You wild woman.” Jamie eyed her with amusement. “You know you’ve totally destroyed my image of you, right?”

Rachel sighed. “Absolutely.”

Jamie angled the laptop toward her. “Cute. Who’s this?”

She glanced at the photo. “Tom. We hung out for almost a year, when we weren’t too busy.” He was ambitious, so was she, and they’d been good together until they weren’t. Neither of them had had a problem with saying adios when their schedules got too crazy.

“So you guys still keep in touch, or is it over?”

“Both. He wrote me when he passed his bar exam, and then when he moved to join a law firm in Denver.” Rachel paused. Explaining too much was tricky. No telling what Cole had revealed about the Sundance’s beleaguered financial situation. “We knew that eventually we’d each go where our careers took us.”

Jamie frowned a little, half closed the laptop and studied Rachel’s face. “You weren’t planning on staying here,” she said, lowering her voice.

Rachel glanced over her shoulder. “Swear you won’t repeat anything I tell you,” she said, turning back to Jamie. “Not even to Cole.”

“Of course I won’t, but that doesn’t mean you have to tell me anything. Really. I won’t be offended.” Jamie passed the laptop back to Rachel. “We all have secrets.”

Sighing, she offered a smile. “I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t betray a confidence. That was just me being insecure.”

“You? Insecure? Uh-uh. But I know, we all have those days.” Jamie started to get up.

“Wait. This isn’t some top secret thing, it’s just that I don’t know what Cole told you about why we opened for guests.”

Jamie settled down again. “He mentioned the Sundance was struggling financially and that the dude ranch was your idea. Which was brilliant, by the way, but I also understand it’s not easy for everyone in the family to accept.”

“At this point, I think the guys have made peace with the idea. Especially since they know it’s a temporary solution and we’ve already seen a profit. But part of the deal was that I handle that side of the business.”

“And you feel stuck.”

Rachel gave a small shrug. “I wouldn’t say I’m stuck, but it did alter my plans somewhat.”

“Meaning?”

Rachel let out a rush of air. “I was only going to stay for part of the summer, spend time with my mom while I decided between two hotel chains that had tried to recruit me.”

Jamie’s eyebrows went up. “Um, I think that qualifies for more than somewhat. Wow. I don’t know if you remember a conversation we had last August about you staying at the Sun-dance, but I figured something was off.”

“I remember.” The conversation had been about whether Rachel could be happy staying home. “I’m not looking for sympathy. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be, doing exactly what I’m meant to be doing. I owe my family. If I have to stay here another five years then—”

“Oh, God…you and Cole and your hyper sense of responsibility….” Jamie’s lips twitched in a wry smile. “Must run in the family.”

“You don’t understand. Cole paid my tuition every semester, then agreed to graduate school, even though the ranch was in trouble.”

“And yet the Sundance is still here. There’s food on the table every night.” Jamie touched her arm. “You think he would do one thing differently?”

“I don’t know. No.”

“Do you think Cole or the rest of your family would want you to sacrifice your future for the sake of the ranch, or for them?”

Boy, was this turning out to be a shitty birthday. Rachel rubbed her eyes. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, Jamie.”

“Because I don’t have siblings? Or because my parents were more concerned with serving their country than raising me?”

Rachel gasped. “I didn’t mean it like that.” What was wrong with her? She knew Jamie’s background and of course she would jump to that conclusion. “I swear I didn’t—”

“Relax. Even if that’s what you were getting at, you’d have a point.” She waved dismissively. “It’s just that I’m pretty sure your family never thought you went to college so you could open a dude ranch.”

Rachel smiled. “I promise you my brothers haven’t given it that much thought.”

“Hmm, yeah…okay.” Jamie let out a short laugh. “I’ll give you that one. But your mom?”

Rachel slumped against the back of the couch. “I’ve spent a few sleepless nights worrying about that. Tiring as it is, she loves having guests to look after and chat with, and she’s probably hoping this will be enough for me to stay.” She sighed. “I’m really glad you’re here, and when Shea makes the move it’ll be even better, but I need new scenery. I need a challenge.”

The expression on Jamie’s face made Rachel feel worse, and a little defensive again. Clearly she also wanted Rachel to stay. But Jamie couldn’t fully understand. Her situation was different. She was a travel blogger. Sure she’d moved her home base here but she’d be on the road to faraway exotic locales half the time. Besides, living on a ranch was still novel for her. Just as it would be for Jesse’s girlfriend, Shea, once she arrived. For Rachel it was same old, same old…. Even so, it would be a hell of a long time before leaving was possible.

Jamie’s thoughtful gaze moved to the laptop. Then back to Rachel. “Wanna go to Tahiti?”

Rachel laughed. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“You should share travel duties with me,” she said, “while I fill in here for you. It would give me a break. You, too.”

“That’s crazy.” Rachel wouldn’t admit it, but the idea sent her pulse skittering.

“I’m serious. Think about it, and we’ll talk more later. Tonight your mom has a special dinner planned, with cake afterward. You know all about it….” she said, and Rachel nodded. “But today it’s you and me, kiddo. We’re hitting town, going to The Cut and Curl.”

Laughing, Rachel wondered if Jamie had ever set foot in Blackfoot Falls’s only beauty parlor. Not hair salon, that would be overreaching.

“Wait.” Jamie held up a hand. “We’re going to have the works—manicure, pedicure, coiffing…and streaks. How about purple this year?”

“You’re crazy,” Rachel said, shaking her head. “Have you ever been to The Cut and Curl?”

“No.” She grinned. “And this is the best part—after, we’ll go to the Watering Hole for shots and beer. Who knows? There may be someone new in town and you’ll get laid.”

“Keep it down,” Rachel said, when Jamie’s voice rose with her enthusiasm.

Jamie clamped a hand over her mouth, and giggling like schoolgirls, they both swung glances toward the door.

“Come on,” Jamie said, gesturing excitedly. “Get up. Get ready while I help your mom and Hilda with breakfast.”

It was seven-thirty. Marge’s Diner and the hardware store were the only things open in Blackfoot Falls. But Rachel didn’t care. She was feeling much better. She grabbed her laptop and ran upstairs. Maybe today would end up being special after all.

“DEAR GOD, I HOPE THOSE things aren’t alive.” Jamie stood with her hand on the doorknob, staring at the trio of wigs on foam mannequin heads in The Cut and Curl window display.

Rachel bumped her from behind to get her moving. “Keep it up and you’ll be the topic of conversation at every dinner table tonight.”

“Please.” Jamie snorted. “That was so last week when I arrived with the moving truck.”

“Do not underestimate these women,” Rachel whispered, and pushed harder.

Jamie was forced to either open the door or smash her nose against the glass. Still it didn’t stop her from glancing over her shoulder and murmuring, “You know they’re all dissecting me five ways to Sunday, worried I’m not good enough for Cole.”

She wouldn’t argue that one. People around here were proprietary about their hometown boys as a rule, but the McAllister brothers, Cole in particular, were the cream that rose to the top.

They both stepped inside, a slight whiff of perm solution making Rachel consider turning around. Naturally, Sally, the owner, and her cousin Roxy—the only other beautician in the shop—had already spotted them outside. So had the two customers sitting under the dryers, one of them being Ruth Wilson, a popular teacher now retired. Rachel almost didn’t recognize Mrs. Perkins until she poked her head out from under the noisy plastic bubble.

“Happy birthday, Rachel,” she said. “I ran into your mama at the Food Mart buying ingredients for your cake yesterday.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Perkins.” No such thing as a surprise party in Blackfoot Falls. If anyone ever pulled off such a feat, it would be one for the record books.

Looking pleased that she’d been the first to acknowledge Rachel’s birthday, Libby Perkins waited for everyone else to follow suit, then ducked back under the dryer.

Jamie was trying to control a smile and not gawk at the dated magazine cutouts on the pink walls as she stepped up to the counter where Sally leaned a plump hip.

Rachel remembered something. “Do not ask for a pedicure,” she told Jamie low enough not to be overheard.

Sally stopped blowing on her red glossy nails. “What can I do for you young ladies?”

Jamie hesitated, then frowned at Rachel. “Seriously?”

“Trust me.”

Sally’s fake brows lifted in question. They’d been plucked clean and penciled back in to match her big blond hair. The ’do was really something. Each year she seemed to tease the crown a bit higher—probably her version of a facelift—and poor Jamie, since laying eyes on her up close, seemed to be having trouble breaking contact.

Rachel bit back a grin. “I’d like a shampoo and blow-out, a manicure, too, if you have time.”

“Sure, we do.” Sally gave Jamie the once-over. “What about your friend?”

“Same for me.” Jamie smiled, and subtly nudged Rachel. “And streaks. Just one for me, blue if you have it. Rachel?”

Sally straightened, a twinkle lighting her eyes. “You want a streak in your hair, Rachel?”

“Oh, why not? What color choices do you have? Purple would be good.”

Roxy moved in next to Sally, her eyes wide under her mousy brown bangs. “Your mama’s gonna have a cow.”

“Guess what?” Rachel leaned over the counter. Excitement shining in their faces, anxious for any tidbit, both women met her halfway. “I’m twenty-six years old.”

Sally drew back with a humph. “You saying you don’t listen to your mama anymore?”

“Nope.” Rachel smiled. “I’m saying she hasn’t told me what to do in a long time.”

Clearly disappointed, Roxy shuffled back to her workstation. Anyone who knew her could pick out which spot was hers by the Elvis photos outlining the wall mirror. He’d passed away before she was born, but she’d been in love with him since the eighth grade.

“Give me a minute to get ready for you.” Sally hustled toward the back station with the turquoise shampoo bowl.

Rachel knew the wait would be a bit longer so Sally’s nails could dry. She turned her back on the shop so only Jamie could hear her. “The place looks old-fashioned but Sally isn’t a bad stylist. She keeps up on trends. Even tried jazzing up the place to keep the younger women from going to Kalispell for their haircuts, but the older clientele complained.”

“Where do you get yours cut?”

Rachel smiled wryly. “Kalispell.”

“Okay, next time you go…”

“Yep, I’ll let you know.”

Jamie picked up a hairstyle magazine left on the counter and flipped through it. “So what’s the deal about not asking for a pedicure?”

“I doubt Sally is set up for it. Around here goats and horses have their hooves trimmed, and women cut their own toenails.”

“This is sad. I don’t know when you’re kidding anymore.”

“Sometimes it’s an adjustment for me, too. I lived in Dallas for over six years, remember.”

Jamie sighed. “Then I guess I shouldn’t ask for a Brazilian either.”

Rachel laughed loudly enough that Sally and Roxy both sent her curious looks. Sally waved them back to her station, and before Rachel took the lead, she murmured to Jamie, “I dare you.”

“I’m not worried. They’ll be too busy talking about you and your purple streak, Miss Goody Two-Shoes.”

“Oh, they’ll be whispering all right…about what a horrible influence you are on me.”

This time Jamie burst out laughing. “I’m screwed either way.”

Sally motioned for Rachel to sit in her chair. “You ladies are in mighty fine moods. You just wait till you’re looking down the barrel of forty-six and see how chipper you are.” She shook out a plastic pink cape and draped it over Rachel.

“What would you know about that?” Rachel lifted her hair so Sally could tie the strings. “You can’t be a day over thirty yourself.”

Sally chuckled. She’d been telling people she was thirty-nine for so long, her age had remained a true mystery. But forty-six sounded about right.

Rolling her eyes, Jamie sank onto Roxy’s chair and was sheathed with her own plastic cape.

“You two serious about putting in streaks?” Sally asked.

In unison they assured her they were, and she eagerly pulled out color samples. Roxy didn’t seem as impressed, and she gladly stood by while Sally mixed the two selected shades.

Mrs. Perkins’s dryer went off and she started to say something when the door opened. All heads turned toward Louise. Her cheeks red, she looked as if she’d run all the way from her fabric store, a pair of scissors in one hand, and a silver thimble on her right thumb.

“You’re not gonna believe who I just saw going into Abe’s Variety.” Her gaze panned the room, her eyes bright and excited.

“Well, go ahead, tell us before you have a stroke,” Sally said impatiently.

Searching each face until she was satisfied she had everyone’s full attention, Louise took another dramatic pause, then deliberately met Rachel’s eyes and said, “Matt Gunderson.”

2

RACHEL FELT THE BLOOD drain from her face. She didn’t think she’d said anything out loud or made a weird noise, but she might have. All the other women were staring at her, including Jamie.

For pity’s sake, Rachel hadn’t seen him in ten years. Yeah, she’d had a thing for him once, but she’d been a kid, only sixteen when he left town. The few people who’d suspected her crush hadn’t taken it seriously. For two reasons—he was three years older than her, already a man, and he was a Gunderson. Everyone in Blackfoot Falls knew McAllisters and Gundersons didn’t mix. Not if Matt’s father had anything to do with it, anyway.

“Matt Gunderson,” Sally repeated with a soft murmur. “He was a damn fine-looking young man last I saw him. Tall and lean, with those bedroom blue eyes…Got his pa’s looks. Wallace was real handsome in his twenties and thirties, before he started drinking heavy. What’s it been, ten years since Matt left?”

“Good thing he didn’t end up with Wallace’s nasty disposition.” Louise said. “Of course a decade is a long time…anything could’ve happened. I suppose he might be just as rotten as his father by now.”

“Not Matt,” Ruth Wilson said, the adamant shake of her head brooking no argument. “He was a quiet, sweet boy, and very smart, too.” He’d been her student, just like everyone under age forty living in Salina County had been at one time or another. “I’d hoped Matthew would go to college. I certainly encouraged him to give it a try. So did his mama. By the way, he was here for her funeral three years ago. Seems you ladies have forgotten.”

“I didn’t forget.” Libby Perkins sniffed. “Catherine Gunderson was a lovely woman. I don’t know a soul who didn’t attend her funeral. The way I hear it, Matt came back two weeks before she died, stayed glued to her bedside, saw to her burial arrangements the day she passed, then left an hour after the services.”

Rachel hadn’t gone to the funeral. She’d been in Dallas, studying for finals, and hadn’t learned of Mrs. Gunderson’s passing until a week later. By delaying the news, her mother had saved her from making the decision to return for the services. Selfishly, Rachel hadn’t minded. The timing had been bad as far as school went, and she hadn’t wanted to see Matt under such sad circumstances.

The women continued talking about the Gundersons, mostly Wallace and his haggard appearance of late. They speculated on whether it was due to drinking or if his failing health was the reason Matt had suddenly shown up. Though it was no secret the two had been estranged the minute Matt left a decade ago.

Rachel quit listening and tried to think about something else. Except it was difficult to ignore the jittery feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t even distract herself by talking to Jamie, not without the others hearing them. But the way Jamie kept shooting her inquisitive glances, it was obvious what was on her mind. The trouble was, Rachel hadn’t decided how much she wanted to share about Matt.

It was ridiculous that she was having any reaction at all. Absurd to be replaying scenes of hot summer afternoons they’d spent swimming in Mill Creek after she’d lured him away from his chores. She’d been a kid, not even a junior yet, and incensed that his father was so mean and making Matt work all the time.

She’d pretended to be hiking that first day she followed him to the fence line that separated their properties. And he’d pretended to believe her. After that it got to be a regular Friday thing throughout the rest of the summer. She’d just show up at the section of fence he was mending. For several weeks he only smiled at her teasing and flirting. Then one day he’d yanked off his hat and unbuttoned his shirt, and she’d nearly peed her pants.

The sneak had worn swim trunks under his jeans, but he’d let her go through her usual song and dance trying to tempt him. They’d raced each other to the creek. He’d let her win, then gave her a victory kiss. It was brief, nothing hot or steamy, but at the time she’d been convinced she was having a heart attack.

Until then, she’d never kissed a boy, at least not a real kiss, and she’d wanted more. But he’d slammed on the brakes, kept her at arm’s length. He’d said she was too young…anything beyond kissing wasn’t going to happen. It hadn’t stopped her from lying in the tall grass after he returned to work, staring up at the clear blue sky, daydreaming, debating whether she’d be a modern woman and keep her last name or become Rachel Gunderson.

To her annoyance, Matt had kept his word all summer, clear through fall, up to her sixteenth birthday. The kisses had grown more frustrating and sometimes he’d rubbed against her breasts, but always through her shirt. By February, a day before her birthday, she’d made up her mind. Half the girls in her class had boasted of having sex, and she decided she would lose her virginity to Matt that night when they met behind the calving shed. She’d taken a blanket with her, confident she could entice him into going to Mill Creek to do the deed. It was only fitting they made love for the first time there.

He’d never showed. The next morning she’d learned he left town, and her a short note. She’d cried for days, then lost her virginity to a classmate two months later. Not one of her finer moments, and she’d regretted nothing more than the rashness of her self-pity ever since.

But that was a lifetime ago. She was no longer that silly love-struck kid. She’d changed. He’d surely changed, too. Not that she thought he’d followed in his father’s footsteps. She agreed with Mrs. Wilson. Matt was good to his core. He’d never be like his bitter despicable old man.

“Okay, this has crossed over to torture territory,” Jamie whispered when Sally stepped away to grab a towel. “After our hair is done, you still want to get a manicure?”

“No.”

Jamie grinned. “That was emphatic.”

They’d already had to wait for the color to process then had their hair shampooed between numerous interruptions. A slew of customers stopped in to make appointments but mostly to find out if the news of Matt’s return had hit The Cut and Curl yet.

With the water running close to her ear, Rachel hadn’t heard much but then the disappointed faces told her enough. Twice she’d had to consciously stop clenching her teeth because, jeez, it was a shame to have suffered through two years of braces for nothing. “Our blow-outs shouldn’t take long, but I swear, if Sally turns off that blow-dryer one more time so she can chitchat I’ll scream.”

“If anyone else walks in, that’s exactly what she’s going to do.” Jamie turned to Roxy, who was trying to listen under the pretense of finding the right brush. “Let’s keep this quick, huh? And we’re skipping the manicures.”

When Sally returned with the dry towel, after stopping to yak with two more clients, Jamie passed on the same instructions to her. Rachel bit back a smile when the older woman gave Jamie a who-died-and-made-you-queen look that she completely ignored.

Jamie settled the tab while Rachel said her goodbyes. They stepped outside under the glaring afternoon sun, looked at each other and burst out laughing. The blue streak woven through Jamie’s pretty tawny-colored hair was almost neon and wider than she’d had in mind.

“Purple suits you,” Jamie said between snorts of laughter.

Rachel touched her hair. “I wanted out of there so badly I forgot to check it out.”

“Don’t you worry—it’s very you.” Jamie started giggling again.

“Gee, thanks for the endorsement. Do me a favor…make sure I’m there when Cole sees your hair.”

She sniffed. “He’ll love it.”

“Yeah, right.” Rachel glanced down Main Street. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Would he still be in town?”

She swung her attention back to Jamie. “Cole?”

“No,” Jamie said. “Uh-uh, don’t you dare play dumb with me. Not after I had to sit there and keep my mouth shut for two hours.” She checked for traffic, then tugged Rachel into the street. “Come on. You can tell me all about Matt at the Watering Hole.”

“Keep your voice down.” There wasn’t a soul within earshot, but still…“I wish there was something to tell. But there isn’t.” On the next block she saw a silver truck she didn’t recognize but then an older man opened the driver’s door. “And please, your mouth was barely shut for ten minutes.”

Jamie slid her a look of amusement. “I ought to get you drunk. Then let’s see what comes through the floodgates.”

“Nope. Won’t happen.” It suddenly occurred to her this would be a crummy time to see him. Too many people around. Though surely he was gone by now.

A few barbs later they made it to the Watering Hole. Jamie muttered a mild curse when she couldn’t open the door. “I can’t believe it’s closed.”

“Try again. Sometimes it sticks.” Rachel cast a final look down Main.

And held her breath when she saw him.

Matt was across the street at the other end of the block, coming out of the Food Mart. His hair looked darker and longer, still a light brown but without the sun streaks she’d always envied. He seemed taller, too, but that was probably her imagination.

“Is that him?” Jamie had won her battle with the door, and she stood there with it partially open, darting looks between Rachel and Matt.

“Yes.” Rachel’s voice came out a squeak and she cleared her throat as she watched him approach a black truck, a popular color around Blackfoot Falls. “It is.”

“Wow. He looks yummy. Go say hi.”

“No. I mean, I will.” Dammit, her voice still sounded funny. “But not now.”

Sadie, the owner, yelled from inside the bar for them to shut the door and quit letting out the heat. Jamie pulled it closed.

“We can’t stay out here.” Feeling jittery again, Rachel turned away from Matt and motioned for Jamie to get moving. “Go.”

She wouldn’t budge, only frowned in Matt’s direction. “Who’s that?”

Rachel couldn’t resist, and saw a slender woman with long black hair come from behind Matt. He held the passenger door open for her, then helped her up into the cab.

“Do you know who she is?” Jamie murmured.

“No.” Rachel swallowed. It was perfectly reasonable to assume Matt had taken the big step. He’d always struck her as the marrying kind. Except in her foolish young mind it had been her standing at the altar with him. “Okay, let’s get me drunk.”

MATT SLIPPED ON his sunglasses and drove down Main Street like a horse wearing blinders. He looked straight ahead, glad Nikki didn’t feel the need to talk. Three years ago when he’d come to see his mother, he’d stayed away from town. He liked most of the people who lived in Blackfoot Falls just fine. But all the questions…Christ, they drove him nuts.

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 booksmart, 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.”

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.”

4

RACHEL DIDN’T CARE THAT he was so handsome he made her thighs clench. Or that there were far too many witnesses in the next room. She was going to strangle him.

Kiddo.

A barely contained growl chafed her throat. This was like adding the proverbial salt to the wound.

He had to know…the way he’d leaned into her…the dark intensity of his eyes…well, naturally she’d expected an entirely different kind of kiss.

Dammit, she didn’t understand this grown-up version of Matt at all. Her teasing and flirting used to earn her slow bashful smiles. She’d enjoyed having the upper hand.

Or had she? As a kid had she gotten his reaction to her mixed up? Maybe those smiles had been patronizing. Her breath caught painfully somewhere between her lungs and her throat.

“Thanks,” she said, smiled brightly and led him into the family room, announcing, “Look who’s here.”

Cole and Trace both glanced up from their game of pool. Jamie was there, too. Just in case Jamie was making faces at her, Rachel kept her eyes averted.

“Hey, Matt.” Cole leaned his stick against the wall, and stuck out his hand as he came around the table. “Good to see you, buddy.”

Trace passed his cue to Sandy, a pretty blonde who’d checked in yesterday. Her quieter friend, Krista, was already holding Trace’s beer.

“I should’ve known you hustlers were back here.” Matt shook each of their hands, and acknowledged the women with a polite nod.

“Hustlers, huh?” Sandy baited Trace, while she discreetly sized up Matt.

“Now that’s what you call sour grapes. Matt can’t play worth spit. We used to humiliate him.”

“Yep.” Matt laughed. “I still suck at it.” He stuffed his hands in his jeans’ pockets and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “You guys still keep a running score?”

Cole snorted, and eyed Trace. “No. Some of us are busy and don’t have enough time to play these days.”

“Translation…” Trace said with a cocky smile, “I’m still whipping him.”

Leaping to Cole’s defense, Jamie let out a haughty “You do not.”

“That’s my girl.” Chuckling, Cole caught her hand. “Matt, this is Jamie.”

“I see things have changed around here.” Matt briefly raised his brows at Cole. “Nice meeting you, Jamie.”

“Yes, likewise.”

“Now you know why my brother has no time for pool.” Trace reclaimed the cue from Sandy. She gave him a stiff smile and a pointed look. “Oh, yeah, Matt, this—” Trace paused, a fleeting expression of panic on his face. “You want a beer?” Trace didn’t wait for the answer. He flashed a winning smile at the tall blonde. “Darlin’, you mind getting Matt a cold one?”

“Sure.”

Rachel and Jamie exchanged glances. They knew Trace had already forgotten the woman’s name. Rachel pressed her lips together and lowered her gaze to the eight ball in the corner, trying not to laugh. She should bail him out. Not to be nice, he deserved to squirm, but it wasn’t fair to let their guests feel uncomfortable.

She moved around the pool table and picked up two empty glasses sitting on the window ledge. “Sandy, Krista, would you like another drink?”

“Not me, thanks.” Krista exhaled loudly. “Trace’s punch nearly did me in.”

“Amen,” Sandy added, pulling a bottle out of the small fridge.

“Yeah,” Rachel said. “I don’t think we’ll let him play bartender again.” Okay, she’d done her part. Let Trace figure out who was who.

Matt pushed off the wall to take the beer Sandy passed him. “Thanks.” He gave her a smile that could melt a brick. “I don’t recall so many pretty women in Blackfoot Falls before I left.”

“Handsome and charming.” Sandy’s smile dazzled. “Why did I not know this about Montana men?”

Rachel tried really hard not to roll her eyes. Good thing.

Sandy glanced at her. “There’s only one beer left. I’ll restock if you tell me where to get more.”

“You’re a guest. I’ll get it.”

“No, it’s your birthday,” Jamie cut in. “They’re in the kitchen. Sandy and Krista, come help me.”

With the other two trailing behind her, Jamie walked past Rachel and gave her an OMG look no one else could see.

“Well, shit,” Trace said as soon as the women were out of earshot. “Look at you, Gunderson, making the ladies hot and bothered. You don’t get enough action on the road?”

“You seem to be doing okay,” Matt said, laughing. “And you don’t have to get thrown from a bull.”

“But he’s sure been flinging a lot of it around,” Cole said, and took his next shot.

Trace glanced toward the door. “Hell, those women are wearing me out. No joke.”

Rachel grunted. “They just arrived yesterday.”

“You know what I mean.” Trace took a swig of beer. “Good time for you to show up, Matt. You’ll take the heat off.”

“Oh, please, you’re not fooling anyone.” Rachel knew it was true. Trace had gotten sick of the attention. But she wanted to steer the conversation away from Matt and his sex life. Just the hint of it grated on her nerves. “You’ve been the main attraction. I really should pay you a bonus.”

“No, thanks. What I need is time off for damn good behavior.”

Cole laughed at that. “I don’t think you want to go down that road.” He eyed Trace as if he knew something Rachel didn’t. Did Cole honestly believe she didn’t know Trace had played loose with the rules? She suspected he’d slept with a guest or three in the past few months, but he’d been discreet. “Your shot.” Cole stood back to give Trace room and looked at Matt. “I reckon you came to see your father.”

He hesitated, then took a long pull of beer. “Yeah, I’m here because of Wallace. Where’s Jesse?”

Clearly Matt wanted the subject of his father dropped. “He’s away overnight,” Rachel said. “In Wyoming, I think. He’s an animal-rescue volunteer.”

“Good for him.”

No one said anything while Trace crouched, squinting at the eight ball, trying to line up his next shot. A giddy laugh from the living room distracted him. He missed and cursed under his breath.

“What’s going on around here?” Matt asked. “Who are these women?”

“Wow, that’s right, you don’t know about our new venture.” Rachel sighed. “I started to tell you earlier. We’re trying our hand at the dude ranch business.”

“Not we,” Trace said.

Rachel gave him the evil eye.

Matt frowned, processing the information, then turned and swung a look toward the living room. “Why?”

“Money,” Rachel said quietly. “This economy has been tough on ranchers.” She shrugged, and glanced over her shoulder to make sure no guests were within earshot. “This won’t be forever.”

Cole and Trace had already returned to their game, but Matt looked troubled. Thoughtfully sipping his beer, he kept his gaze on the pool table, but his mind was obviously working overtime. This wasn’t the time or place to get into this particular topic. Not that she ever wanted to discuss the family’s financial woes with Matt or anyone.

While he was distracted by her brothers, it was nice to have a few minutes to check him out. His chest was broader now, so were his shoulders. He’d always been lean with just enough muscle to make her want to skim her palms over his chest and back. But he was a bull rider now. And staying on such a powerful animal required strength and balance. It meant being in top physical condition. Matt looked the part.

She drew in a long slow breath, her gaze falling to his exposed forearms. He’d turned back the sleeves of his navy blue shirt since he’d come inside or else she would’ve noticed all that sleek corded muscle before now. Even the denim couldn’t hide his strong thighs, and God, she really had to stop looking.

“I was hoping I’d find y’all back here.”

Nikki’s voice startled her. Rachel abruptly turned to the door, guilt warming her cheeks because she’d completely forgotten about the woman. “Oh, good, you found us,” Rachel said lamely.

“This is a cool house.” Nikki smiled, not looking as though she felt neglected or annoyed. She had a beer in her hand, not in a glass but the bottle, half of it already gone.

“Hey, Nik.” Matt held a hand out to her, and she slipped past Rachel to go to his side.

“Hi,” she said to Cole and Trace before Matt could introduce them—probably because they’d both stopped playing to look at her. Trace automatically set down his cue.

“This is my friend, Nikki,” Matt said, then pointed his bottle. “That’s Cole. And Trace.”

Okay, he’d said friend, not wife, though Rachel had already decided they weren’t married. But did friend mean girlfriend? Friend with benefits? What?

“Y’all are Rachel’s brothers.” Nikki shook back her shiny sable hair, a practical gesture and not the least flirty. But then she was one of those women who would look sexy flossing her teeth. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hello, Nikki.” Cole set aside his beer just as Jamie appeared holding a six-pack in each hand and cradling one to her side. “And that’s Jamie, my better half.”

“We’ve already met,” Nikki said, passing her bottle to Matt and then taking the extra six-pack from Jamie. “You should’ve told me…I would’ve helped.”

Rachel started to jump in but realized they didn’t need her. That didn’t stop Trace from rushing to the fridge ahead of them and opening the door. He crouched in front of the two empty bottom shelves letting Jamie pass him the bottles, which he laid on their sides to maximize space.

“You putting anything else in here?” he asked before getting up. The question was meant for Jamie and Rachel, but his gaze lingered on Nikki.

He was cool about it, not making an ass out of himself, or being obvious, but Rachel knew him too well. For one thing, as willing as he was to help when she asked for it, he wasn’t one to volunteer.

“Sandy and Krista are bringing two more,” Jamie said. “But I think they took a detour first.”

Trace nodded and straightened. Rachel saw the set of his jaw and knew he’d forgotten about the other two and probably hoped they stayed detoured.

The room was spacious even with the massive stone fireplace, pool table, overstuffed leather couch and club chairs. But the way the furniture was set up, if you weren’t playing pool, you either stood and watched or sat by the fire. It had never been a problem when it was just the family, but since taking in guests who often converged here after dinner, Rachel had to rethink the arrangement.

After their game was finished, Cole and Trace quit playing in favor of talking to Matt and Nikki. They moved to the couch and chairs along with Jamie, and the table was quickly claimed by a pair of wranglers who’d come in after dinner and were keeping the guests entertained.

Sandy and Krista seemed determined to stick close to Trace, and though Rachel could tell he was unhappy with the situation, there was really nothing she could do about it.

Three women had accompanied the wranglers, and a few minutes later, two more had wandered in to cheer the men on. With so many people squeezed in, the room was noisy and too warm, and making Rachel itchy for some fresh air and solitude. As soon as she could slip away, she picked up empty glasses and carried them to the kitchen.

Relieved to be alone, she opened the dishwasher. The sink had been clear an hour ago when her mom had gone to lie down because of a headache. But dishes and glasses had accumulated and Rachel started loading them, glad to be able to hear herself think. It had been one hell of a day…a birthday she wasn’t likely to forget.

Matt Gunderson, here in the flesh. It still didn’t seem real. Every time her gaze had touched on him she’d received a small jolt of awareness. One minute he’d laugh or turn his head a certain way, looking like the old Matt, and the next, he was a handsome stranger who made her pulse race.

She would have to look him up on Google later. Just out of curiosity. Whether the thing he had with Nikki was serious or not, Rachel was quite clear where she stood in his eyes. Damn, but she really wished he hadn’t given her that peck on the cheek. If he hadn’t, at least she could’ve fantasized about him a while longer.

“Need help?”

Matt.

Aware her butt was sticking up in the air as she tried to reach the back row of the dishwasher, she calmly deposited the plate in a suitable slot, then straightened.

When she turned around he didn’t try to pretend he hadn’t been checking out her ass. Which just confused her. “Good timing on your part. I’m almost done.”

“You’re the birthday girl. You shouldn’t have kitchen duty.”

She shrugged. “Just another day.”

He set his empty bottle on the counter. “So you’ve stopped counting down right after Christmas?”

She smiled, surprised he remembered. “Every kid loves their birthday. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“No,” he said, his voice lowered, his gaze sweeping her lips. “You’re not.”

Rachel grabbed the dish towel off the counter, needing something to do. “You want another beer?”

“I’ve had two already. That’s enough.”

“I guess you have to keep yourself in good physical condition.” It was a perfectly innocent and natural observation. Except she panned the breadth of his shoulders, and her lips parted without permission. “Where’s Nikki?”

He motioned with his head. “She’s still talking to your brothers and Jamie. Cole has himself a real sweetheart. I can tell she’s good for him. He’s lightened up.”

“True. Jamie’s terrific. I’m glad she’s here. Wait a minute—You left Nikki with Trace?” She laughed. “Are you crazy?”

Matt grinned. “She can take care of herself.”

“Yeah, but—” Rachel turned away.

He caught her chin and drew her eyes back to his. “There’s nothing going on with Nikki and me. Okay?”

“None of my business.” Oh, hell. She had to ask…. “Then why would you bring her home?”

He let his hand fall away, but continued to study her face. After a drawn-out silence, he said, “It’s complicated.”

“Fair enough.” They were still standing close, and maybe she should’ve stepped back, but her brain was too busy processing this new information. He’d made a point of clarifying his relationship with Nikki…. “You sure don’t owe me an explanation.”

“There’s a good one.” He huffed out a short laugh. “But it’s not up to me right now. What about you? Anyone special?”

“Here? In Blackfoot Falls? Uh…no.” The condescension in her tone shamed her. Her brothers and Matt and lots of other men born and bred around the county were terrific guys and didn’t deserve the thoughtless remark.

Matt’s mouth quirked up on one side but he didn’t appear to take offense. “Anywhere?”

“No.” She bit her lip and fisted the dish towel. “That was a horrible thing for me to say. I didn’t mean it.”

He shrugged. “Frankly, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“That, too, is complicated.” She saw amusement enter his eyes. “That’s not payback. I’m being serious.”

“It seems we have some catching up to do.” He lifted a lock of her hair, and she automatically moved closer. “Purple, huh?”

Oh, God, she’ forgotten. “Last year it was pink.”

His brows rose slightly. “So how long does it last?”

“Depends on how much I want to annoy Cole and Jesse, or put up with Trace’s crap.”

“Ah.” He smiled at her, really smiled, as if he was recalling fond memories of them sneaking off to Mill Creek.

They’d kissed there for the first time, and she wondered if he remembered. Not necessarily a good thing. She’d been horrifically inexperienced and it had taken a while for him to get her to relax. Turned out kissing a pair of warm lips was very different than practicing on the back of her hand.

With her luck, it was probably why he’d pecked her on the cheek earlier. That thought broke the warm fuzzy spell she’d been slipping under. She cleared her throat, moved back. “You’re taller.”

Matt blinked, the brief charged moment between them gone. “I think Trace and I were neck and neck when I left. He’s passed me by.”

“My brothers are giants. It’s that McAllister gene.” She stepped around him and closed the dishwasher door. “According to the family Bible, for five generations every McAllister male has topped out over six-two.”

“Trace has gotta be about that. I’m six feet and he’s not that much taller than me.”

For a second, Rachel feared she’d misjudged what could’ve led to a nice sexy kiss. Why else were they having this pointless conversation? She doubted Matt’s ego over being shorter than her brothers had anything to do with it. But then she barely knew Matt anymore. Knowing the boy didn’t mean she knew the man. It kind of depressed her because the odds weren’t in her favor. Who could say what success had done to him. In the rodeo world, a champion bull rider had status, money, more women than he knew what to do with. Matt was that guy now.

She rinsed out the sink, fine with letting the conversation lapse, but eventually she looked over at him.

He was leaning against the counter, watching her. “You take after your mom,” he said quietly. “Petite and—”

“I’m not petite. I’m five-five.”

“Whoa.” He chuckled. “I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

She bit off a response. Nikki and Jamie entered the kitchen, carrying more empty glasses and bottles. Rachel smiled, trying not to be grumpy because she no longer had Matt to herself. It was a small miracle that they’d managed to be alone for the fifteen minutes.

As soon as Matt heard Nikki’s voice, he straightened and picked up the bottle he’d left on the counter. “You recycle?”

Puzzled, Rachel nodded and pointed to the blue bin near the mudroom door. The question wasn’t necessarily odd, but his tone was more impersonal. He wouldn’t have lied about Nikki….

“Have you been cleaning up?” Jamie asked, depositing glasses in the sink. “Stop it. Today is supposed to be your day off.”

“Right.” Rachel sighed. “My mom has a headache so I’m pitching in.”

“Put me to work,” Nikki offered.

“No, but thanks.” Rachel hung the towel. “The dishwasher is full. We can let it run while we rejoin the party.”

Matt separated the new crop of bottles and carried them to the bin. “We need to shove off,” he said, and Nikki nodded solemnly. “I wanted to see your mom,” he said to Rachel. “Tell her I’ll come by again, would you?”

“Sure.” She tried not to look surprised, but she wasn’t aware Matt and her mother knew each other well enough that he’d pay her a special visit. “I could get her now.”

“No, don’t. I’ll be around for a while.”

Nikki swung a startled look at him. Clearly, she had other ideas.

5

“SHE HASN’T GOTTEN over you,” Nikki said, the moment they were bumping over the Sundance’s gravel driveway, headed for the highway.

“Who?”

“Oh, come on. You know I mean Rachel. Who I like very much, by the way, so you have my blessing.”

“Gee, thanks. I’m relieved.” Matt shook his head. The beer hadn’t mellowed him. He was irritable but couldn’t figure out why, and Nikki wasn’t helping. “To illustrate how little you know, she was sixteen when I left.”

Nikki laughed. “So you never…got down and dirty with her?”

“Were you not listening? Rachel was sixteen, Nik. Jesus.”

She sighed and let her head fall back against the headrest. “My brother, so honorable. Why can’t I find someone like you?”

It was his turn to laugh. “Careful what you wish for. I thought I’d have to plug Trace’s eyes back in his head when he saw you.”

She let out an unladylike snort. “Guys like him? Uh-uh. Hot? Yes. But he knows it. Uses it. No, thank you. I’ve had my share of those dogs. No more. I’m done.”

“You’re sure about that?” Remarkably cheered, Matt glanced over at her. “Because I don’t think you made yourself clear.”

She brought her head up. “You’re an ass.”

Matt just smiled. She’d called him worse. “I think you’re wrong about Trace.”

“Are you kidding me? Didn’t you see the way he was flirting with those two women?”

“I saw him being polite. The blonde was doing the flirting. But I reckon it doesn’t matter.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she murmured and stared off mutely into the darkness beyond her window. A few seconds later she asked, “How far away are we?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Want to go to the Watering Hole?”

“You’re gonna turn into a drunk trying to put off meeting Wallace.”

“So?” She paused. “What do you think? Watering Hole?”

“I’m not dying to see him either, you know.”

“Yeah, I do.” She fidgeted a minute, and then turned on the radio. Only garbled voices blasted from the speakers, so she obsessively pressed buttons.

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