From This Moment On - By Debbi Rawlins Page 0,21

easily. Was he disappointed that she hadn’t made much progress with Gypsy? She really had, she thought, staring at the mare who seemed to be looking for another snack. Standing here with no wall separating her and the horse was progress. And she hadn’t had a single moment of pure dread, imagining evil lurking behind Gypsy’s soft chocolate-brown eyes. Maybe she should explain that to him.

“I meant to—”

“This is the—”

They looked at each other, not smiling, just staring. It figured they’d both speak at once. And now nothing.

“I’ll go first,” Trace said. “I want to get it off my chest. If I overstepped earlier, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t. It never crossed my mind that you had. Here I’m worrying that I disappointed you.”

“What?” His brows rose in disbelief. “You’re doing great. Ever think you’d get this close to a horse outside of a stall or corral?”

Nikki smiled. “I was going to point that out to you.”

“Don’t you worry, darlin’, I’m paying attention.”

Her mood deflated. “I really don’t like you calling me that.” She watched him frown and fidget with the brim of his Stetson. He called guests darlin’ all the time. Especially if he’d forgotten the woman’s name. She wouldn’t explain why it bothered her. But she refused to be part of the herd. He could figure it out for himself. Or not. As long as he stopped.

“I won’t do it anymore.”

“Okay, then we’re good.” She patted her pockets for her keys, then remembered she’d left them in the ignition.

“If you’re feeling edgy because of Wallace, we can wait on your lessons.”

“I don’t give a damn about the man, and you know it.” That he would say something so stupid pissed her off. Why was everyone trying to make her feel guilty for not caring? She had no reason to feel anything but contempt.

“Doesn’t matter if you care or not. He’s sick and dying right there in the house. The atmosphere changes. For everyone.” He kept looking at her, even when she glared back. “I bet the hands living in the bunkhouse who can’t stand him are affected. That’s the way it goes.”

“What do you know about it?”

“It’s been twelve years but I damn well remember what it was like when my dad died.”

“No, you don’t understand. Everyone loved your dad.” Nikki regretted her childish tone the second she heard her own voice. But Trace didn’t get it. People spoke Gavin McAllister’s name with reverence.

“He was a great man. The best man I’ve ever known,” Trace said, turning to pet Gypsy. “He was a fair employer. And a good father, though I might’ve argued that point a few times when I was fourteen and getting grounded every month.” He smiled a little. “But to say everyone loved him? That’s stretching it. Dad had some zero-tolerance rules about conduct on the ranch and if the line got crossed, there were no exceptions. Some guys didn’t see that as being fair. He’d had his share of getting flipped off behind his back. But once my dad was too sick to get out and work alongside the men, the whole mood around the place changed.

“Even my friends didn’t want to come over and play pool. For months Dad was confined to his bed, so nobody saw him. Just the family and the nurse who’d come out to check on him and bring pain meds. It’s not only about knowing he’s upstairs suffering, but looking around while you do everyday things and recognizing his absence. Lucy’s feeling it, so is Matt, I guarantee you. And that’s bound to affect you.”

Nikki hadn’t realized he’d switched from talking about his father to Wallace. She’d been too unsettled by the rawness in his voice and how his face had changed. Usually she was good at reading people. For all the gang-related funerals she’d attended, maybe she’d never seen loss up close, because right now, it felt as if she were staring it in the face. But after twelve years?

She was lucky she hated Wallace. If this is what loving and losing someone did to a person...

“Hey, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” Trace was back to being himself, but with a concerned frown aimed at her.

“You didn’t.”

“I’m trying to tell you that you don’t have to act tough around me, Nikki. I get it.”

“Act tough?” She scoffed. “I am tough. I’ve had to be. And no, you don’t get it.” She felt badly he’d spent those past few moments reliving his father’s illness. She did. But their