the side of the house. No other strange cars were there, like one that could belong to the doctor, so she figured Wallace hadn’t died. It still seemed weird living in his house. She never saw him…only twice in the three weeks since she’d come back with Matt. God only knew what Lucy, the housekeeper, or Rachel thought of Nikki for refusing to help with his care. She knew Matt understood why she’d have nothing to do with the bastard, and that was good enough for her.
The promise her mother had forced her to make still irritated Nikki. Why the hell did her mom care when Wallace finally passed on? He’d caused her nothing but misery. For two years before Nikki was born and three years after, he’d gone to Houston pretending it was business while he cheated on his wife. The arrangement might’ve lasted forever if her mom hadn’t given him an ultimatum—divorce Matt’s mother and acknowledge Nikki as his daughter. That was the last time they’d seen him.
Of course Nikki didn’t remember him very well because she’d been too young. But it wasn’t easy to forget the violent crying jags and gloomy weeks her mom had been too depressed to go to work. Nikki loved her with all her heart, but she would never be that weak. She’d die before she gave a man that much power over her.
3
NIKKI BURIED HER FACE deeper into the pillow. The windows were closed and she’d shut the blinds tight before she’d crawled into bed at four this morning. So where was the light coming from? And the noise…Outside men were talking while horses were doing whatever annoying things horses did…besides terrify her. How was a person supposed to get any sleep?
She blindly felt around the other side of the queen bed, found the extra pillow and plopped it on her head. It helped to mute the sounds but not enough. Oh, man, maybe she hadn’t closed the windows. Her bedroom was too chilly. Even in June, at this altitude, the nights and early mornings had a nip in the air that had her thinking twice about staying for the week much less indefinitely.
With a groan, she flopped onto her back and stared at the digital clock on the oak nightstand—10:16 a.m. Okay, this was a ranch and she knew people had work to do but really, did they have to be so loud?
Her problem could be solved if she just got up and checked the windows. It seemed a simple fix until she tried to swing her legs off the side of the bed. They felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds each. So did her head. She wasn’t the least hungover, even though it felt that way. After work she and Sadie’d had one lousy shot. That was it. And Nikki doubted she would’ve had anything to drink if Trace had come to the bar last night.
That got her heart pumping faster and her eyes fully open.
Okay, maybe she was coming out of a blackout because that was the stupidest thought ever. She glanced around her room, spotted her phone where she’d left it to charge on the massive dresser and forced her feet to the floor. She had to squint at the screen in order to focus on the date. Yep, it was Saturday. Last time she’d seen Trace was Thursday when the blonde had chased after him.
Come to think of it, Nikki hadn’t seen the woman last night, either. Only the friend she’d come with two nights earlier. Which probably meant that she and Trace were…
No. She didn’t care what Trace was doing. She didn’t. Thinking about him at all would make her a fool. Or maybe it was a form of therapy…or avoidance…transference…something like that. She couldn’t think about Trace and Wallace at the same time. If she tried, Trace won.
Sometimes she missed the rinky-dink Houston community college that had been close enough to work that she could walk.
She’d loved studying psychology until she learned how much schooling it took to actually get a useful degree. It could’ve been fun and challenging but she was nothing if not realistic. Higher education required money. And that was something she’d never have to spare.
She set the phone down, lingering to touch the smooth oak.
Matt said the hand-carved dresser had been in the family for over a hundred years. She wondered if that meant it was an antique. Or just old. She never could figure out the difference. One thing she knew for sure, the obnoxiously big mirror mounted on the back was newer and really had to go if she stayed much longer.
Staring at the dark smudges under her eyes because she’d been too lazy to remove her makeup was not how she wanted to wake up. Her hair was a mess. She’d worn it in a ponytail last night rather than iron out the two stubborn kinks that had appeared as it dried on its own. And oh, yeah, they were still there.
Hearing voices, she turned to the window. She’d meant to close it when she got up. Now she could swear she heard Trace.
But he wouldn’t be here. He had too much to do at the Sundance, and besides, she doubted he’d step foot on Lone Wolf property. Not as long as Wallace owned it.
She shoved the curtain aside and yanked the cord to raise the closed blinds. Matt and Trace stood near the walkway below, talking, but her impatience with the blinds drew their attention.
Trace tipped his head back, and with his forefinger, pushed up the brim of his Stetson. With the sun shining on his tanned face, his green eyes seemed to sparkle. “Morning, sunshine,” he said, his mouth curving in a grin.
Nikki knew exactly what she looked like and her first instinct was to jump back and jerk the curtain closed. But giving in would only tell him she cared how he saw her. And that was so much worse. “God, can you be any louder? Some of us have to work at night.”
“Have to?” Matt lifted an eyebrow at her. Apparently he wasn’t in the best mood. He hated that she worked at the Watering Hole instead of adjusting to the ranch, though lately he hadn’t said much. “I’m pretty sure you could’ve gone to sleep earlier than four.”
Her heart sank. If he knew when she’d turned off her lamp, that probably meant he’d been up with Wallace. In fact, Matt looked drawn and tired. She was the worst sister in the whole world. How did he put up with her?
“Would y’all like some coffee?” Her neckline had slipped down her shoulder and she pulled the nightshirt back in place. “I’ll bring it out to you.”
“Sure.” Matt rubbed his eyes, then frowned. “No, that’s okay. I wasn’t thinking…Go back to bed.”
“I’m up. It’s no trouble.”
“I wouldn’t mind a cup.” Trace wasn’t smiling anymore but he was staring up at her.
Her nightshirt was made of thin yellow T-shirt fabric and she wasn’t wearing a bra. No, he wasn’t being obvious or horrible but he’d noticed all right. “Cream and sugar?” she asked, stepping backward.
“I like my women sweet, my coffee not so much.”
Nikki rolled her eyes and noticed Matt trying not to smile. “Is that your oh-so-charming way of saying no sugar?”
“You got it, darlin’.”
She hated when he called her that, and he knew it. The smile was back, and he might’ve winked, she wasn’t sure with the sun in his face. Very tempting to renege on the offer, go back to bed and let them get their own coffee. Oh, who was she kidding? She’d never go back to sleep knowing he was just outside. She only wished she knew why he was here.
“Okay, give me a few minutes.” She pulled the curtain closed and grabbed a pair of jeans she’d tossed on the blue upholstered chair last night.
It took her a minute to sift through her underwear drawer before she realized he wouldn’t actually see that her bra and panties matched. Sighing, she plucked a black thong from the pile along with the most unflattering white bra she owned. She found a clean red T-shirt, washed her face, brushed her teeth, then twisted her hair up and clipped it.
She hurried to the kitchen, still wondering what Trace was doing here. All she needed was for him to flirt with her like he did at the bar. She didn’t know how Matt would react. He liked Trace but Matt was protective of her and he’d seen how Trace behaved around the Sundance guests.