From This Moment On. Debbi Rawlins
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can.” He got rid of the shirt and closed the truck door. “Try not to be jumpy. Animals can sense your mood.”
“Well, great because—” She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans and stared down at her track shoes. “You know, don’t you?”
They started to walk. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, his gaze snagging on her slender neck.
“That I’m afraid.”
“I suspected. Is it only horses?”
She kept her head down. “Bulls. I hate bulls, too. I saw Matt ride once…Never again. I wish he’d quit the circuit and stay here.”
“That’s the plan, isn’t it?”
“No, I mean, quit right now. He’s scheduled for five or six more events this year.”
“I’m pretty sure Rachel feels like you do. Bull riding can be a dangerous—” Trace cut himself off. It was too late. He saw her shoulders tense. What the hell was wrong with him? “Matt is good. And he’s careful. He’s got you and Rachel in his life now. He’ll finish his career in one piece.”
“I hope so,” she murmured, hunching her shoulders forward and sounding small and fretful.
Trace slipped his hand around her nape. She shot him a startled look, but he just smiled, left his hand right there and massaged her tense muscles as they continued to walk.
She moved a little closer to him, which kicked his heart rate up. He kept kneading and rubbing her soft warm skin and by the time they reached the stable, she’d started to relax. They hadn’t made it inside yet when one of the horses whickered and she went stiff again. She stopped, probably would’ve jerked away if he hadn’t been caressing the back of her neck. The pulse below her jaw beat wildly.
“Wait right here, okay?” Trace moved his hand to her chin and urged her to look up at him. “I’m going to make sure Lester is done brushing Diablo.”
“Who?”
“He’s a kid who works here.”
She stayed motionless, only her eyes moved to sweep a gaze inside the dim stable.
Trace didn’t want to let go. He’d give just about anything to let his fingers trail down to her collarbone, slip beneath the scooped neckline. Just a little…he only wanted to feel more skin. Hell, he wanted more than that, but for now, what he cared about most was for her not to be afraid.
“Nikki?” He waited for her to look at him. Her eyes were black and filled with so much fear it sliced into his confidence. Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to do. He was good with horses. Everyone assumed he was good with women. And mostly he was…flirting was easy. But he’d never been tested when it really counted. “Can you trust me? I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She stared into his eyes and moistened her lips. Taking in a deep breath, she lifted her hand, and he expected her to push him away. She held on to his wrist. “No offense. I don’t trust anyone.”
Trace smiled. That wasn’t entirely true but if that’s what she wanted to believe…
Her grip on his wrist tightened. “Does Matt know?”
“Not from me.”
“Whatever happens in there, don’t tell him.”
Now he knew he’d screwed up. Lester was inside. The kid might talk. “I won’t say a word. Will you wait here? I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, her gaze still locked with his, and he wanted to kiss her. Right here, where the sunlight glistened off those soft full lips and glowed from her golden skin. Fear slowly faded from her eyes replaced by something that looked suspiciously like it could be trust. Whatever it was it stopped his foolish thoughts and he let her go before his good sense ended up in the dust.
NIKKI WATCHED TRACE disappear into the cavernous stable. Along with him went her short-lived confidence. That she couldn’t fully appreciate the breadth of his shoulders or the muscular definition of his back told her how out of control her fear had grown. Back at the porch when she couldn’t smell and hear the animals, she’d been real clear that she wanted him with his shirt off. Now all she could think about was whether or not to run.
He wouldn’t force her to get too close to the horses, and even if he tried she’d refuse. But what if being in a stable made everything worse? Oh, she really did believe Trace wouldn’t let any harm come to her, but she also believed that the horses could sense she was terrified. If facing her terror head-on didn’t work, it would be murder living on the Lone Wolf. Maybe she could find an apartment in town. Sadie would know…
From deep inside the stable someone was walking toward her. Not Trace, but a shorter, huskier guy. He was young, she saw when he stepped out of the shadows, his hair lighter. Had to be the guy Trace mentioned. Already she’d forgotten his name.
“Hi,” he said as he got closer, eyeing her with curiosity.
“Hey.” She hugged herself, doing her share of sizing him up as he passed, checking for signs of evil-horse attack.
She casually angled to her left to inspect him from the back. His clothes weren’t torn and there was no blood. He wasn’t limping. All good to know.
“Nikki?”
She must’ve jumped three feet in the air before she spun toward Trace. “God, scare the hell out of me, why don’t you?”
He raised both hands, palms out. “Sorry.”
Okay, for the moment she could appreciate his chest. It was mostly smooth, just a faint dusting of hair between his brown nipples.
“You ready?”
“I guess.” She sucked in as much air as she could manage and wiped her damp palms down the front of her jeans.
“Good. Keep taking deep breaths.”
“If I tell you I have to leave then I’m leaving. Period.”
“Got it.”
“It does not mean I’m opening the subject for negotiation.”
“Glad you cleared that up.”
She swung a look at him. “I’m serious.”
“Me, too. You women seem to think everything requires a discussion.”
Nikki gaped at him, then noticed they’d advanced several feet inside. Bales of hay were stacked in the corner. On a railing three saddles sat in a row. The scent of leather and weirdly, soap, was strong. “Are you purposely being an ass to distract me?”
“Think about it. You ask a guy if he wants to stop for a drink, and he says yes or no. A man asks a woman the same question and what does he get?—‘Oh, I don’t know, isn’t it too late? What do you think?’” He’d raised his pitch to mimic a feminine voice and Nikki almost laughed.
“That’s not true,” she said. “And it’s sexist.”
He finger-combed back his dark hair, and frowned as if giving the matter serious thought. “You’re probably right about it being sexist, but I swear to God it’s true.”
“Really? Ask me again about going to Kalispell and see what I have to say.”
Trace grinned and caught her hand. “I wish we were at the Sundance. Then I’d know all the horses’ names.”
She slowly looked to her left. They were standing in front of the first stall, but she didn’t remember walking this far in.
The horse looked at her with its ears pricked forward.
Nikki moved closer to Trace. “Is it male or female?”
“She’s a mare. You might hear someone refer to her as a roan. That’s for the