From This Moment On - By Debbi Rawlins Page 0,24
she was.
Neither of them moved. Then Nikki finally took the initiative. She was smarter than to travel this dangerous road only to satisfy a physical urge. Her options were so few already. If she left Blackfoot Falls, she wanted the decision to be hers. Not made for her because of a weak moment.
As she moved farther back, Trace seemed to have trouble letting go of her hand. She seriously flirted with the thought of just saying screw it. Even if they had sex just this one time. Only they would know. That alone told her she’d been right to stop before impulse replaced good sense. The old Nikki had taken that route and look how much trouble that had landed her.
“You don’t need to worry about next time,” Trace said, scooping his hat off the ground and studying her face. “This doesn’t have to happen again.”
“It won’t.”
His jaw tightened. “I was kind of hoping we’d leave that open.”
“Oh.” She lifted a hand to block the sun. His lips were still damp, and his eyes dilated and dark. Something fluttered in her belly. “Well, it probably wasn’t a good idea.”
“Says you.” With a wry smile, he set his Stetson on her head. It was too big, but it did the job of keeping the sun off her face. “You need one of these.”
“A cowboy hat?”
“Excuse me, but this is a Stetson.”
“And the difference would be?”
He shook his head in mock disgust, then scratched the side of his neck. “Were you serious? You think it was a bad idea?”
She breathed in slowly and evenly. “I don’t know what I think.” She could barely stand the disappointment on his face, mostly because of her own frustration. It would be too easy to give in and worry about regrets later. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and made a show of checking the time. “I need to get going. I thought of something I forgot to do.”
He didn’t look as if he believed her, but then she hadn’t expected him to. “You remember your way back to the main road?”
“Yes, and thanks.” She backed toward the truck. “Oh, here.” She took off the hat and gave it to him, then rushed to retrace her backward steps so they wouldn’t start kissing again. “I know I don’t have to tell you this, but I’ll say it anyway. The kiss should stay secret along with the lessons.”
“Understood,” he said, settling the Stetson on his dark hair. He hadn’t indicated if he agreed, but that didn’t matter. “You drive safely now.”
“Like a nun.”
He might as well have touched her with the way his throaty chuckle shimmied down her spine. “That’s an image I’m having some difficulty with.”
She grinned and climbed into the truck. It took all her concentration to reverse without hitting a tree or shrub. When she finally got herself pointed toward the road, she checked the rearview mirror.
Trace hadn’t moved. He stood with his arms crossed, his long jean-clad legs spread, his boots planted hip-distance apart, and stared after her. The Stetson hid his expression. She could see the shape of his mouth, though, that very clever sexy mouth of his. And wasn’t that a terribly stupid thing to notice because now she was getting all tingly.
The grassy trail he’d made was a bit dicey so she was forced to give up the mirror. Five minutes later she was safely on the road that led to town and the Lone Wolf turnoff. Only then did she realize she’d forgotten to ask if he’d be at the Watering Hole later.
* * *
“I’M SURPRISED HE’S not here since he didn’t show last night.” Sadie transferred the pitcher of beer from the tap to the space Nikki had left on her tray.
For a long-drawn-out moment, she debated whether to respond.
Naturally she knew her boss meant Trace because she’d seen Nikki eye the door every time it opened.
“I assume you’re talking about Trace?” Nikki’s dry smile matched Sadie’s. “He was helping Matt at the Lone Wolf for a few hours yesterday. Maybe he’s still playing catch-up at the Sundance, or playing with the guests.”
Sadie snorted a laugh. “I like the way you say it as if you don’t give a hoot. You practice long and hard with that line?”
Nikki nearly told her to shut up, though it wasn’t a term she cared to repeat since she’d literally had her mouth washed out with soap when she was seven. Despite her mother’s long work hours, she’d been strict