From This Moment On - By Debbi Rawlins Page 0,29
The guy was getting on Trace’s nerves. Maybe he’d stick to sitting at the bar. He’d see more of Nikki... The downside was the guests. Harder for the women to get to him around the crowded pool table.
“What?” Nikki asked. “Why are you staring back there?”
“No reason.” So that’s what finally got her full attention? She was studying his face close enough to see which spots he’d missed with the razor. “Is Josh playing?”
“He was, but I don’t know about now. Want me to check?”
“You’re jumpy.”
“Am I?” She moved a shoulder. “I don’t think so.” After loading her tray, she came back around to his side. “I have to deliver these drinks. Be right back.”
“Okay.”
She’d taken a few steps, then backed up. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I won’t move a muscle.” A whole lot more than his muscles were twitching. This was new, her acting as if she cared whether he stayed or left.
Watching her go from table to table did a better job of getting him revved than caffeine. A second wind was coming on worthy of a high gust warning, and if she wanted him to wait until she got off work, he’d be ready for anything.
“Hi, Trace.”
He recognized Karina’s voice behind him, too close behind, and he did everything in his power not to cringe as he turned his head. “Evening.”
“I didn’t know you were coming to town or I would’ve bummed a ride.” She slid onto the stool beside him. Her heavy floral perfume almost knocked him off his seat. “Will you let me buy you a drink this time?”
“Thanks, but I’m done.” He patted his belly...out of habit...and could’ve done without the lingering gaze. “Not one of my better ideas,” he said with a smile. “Coming to town. I’m too tired to be out this late.” He faked a yawn, covered it and murmured an apology.
“Maybe I should drive you home.”
His almost-choke was genuine enough. “I have my truck.”
Karina smiled. “I assumed you did. Is it a manual? I can handle a stick shift.”
“You stay here and enjoy yourself. I’m good to drive.” He watched Nikki set down drinks and shoot glances back. “Or else she would’ve cut me off,” he said, with a nudge of his chin.
Karina didn’t bother looking. “Is Nikki your girlfriend?”
He laughed, thought what the hell and leaned a little closer. “I’m working on it.”
The woman didn’t seem the least put off. She nodded, widened her smile. “Does she know?”
“Kind of hard to judge.” He was busy tracking Nikki, but Karina’s soft laugh brought him back.
“I pity you.”
“Why?” He frowned. “She say something?”
“No. Nothing like that.” She tilted her head slightly to the side, studying him as if he was a lab rat. “You’re a good-looking charismatic guy and all these pushy city women must drive you crazy.”
He drew back, shaking his head and avoiding her gaze. Grabbing the bottle he’d pushed aside, he took a sip of lukewarm beer. “Hey, I’m just a simple cowboy.”
“Maybe you were before your sister started the dude ranch, but I doubt it.”
“You think differently, you’ll be disappointed.”
“Would you like to prove it?”
No ignoring the urge to look at her face. She sounded weird, not flirty, sort of like she was conducting business. Her eyes were brown, he noticed for the first time, though not warm and pretty like Nikki’s. Karina’s eyes were too shrewd. “Are you sitting at a table or would you like me to get Sadie’s attention for you?” he asked.
“I just got here.” The woman still hadn’t broken eye contact. She kept staring at him, and smiling, as if that would make it less rude. “But I can wait for a drink. Let me ask you something...think it would help if you made Nikki jealous?”
“No,” he said abruptly. “No, ma’am, I do not.” That was it. He’d have to leave. Man, he’d been hoping to talk Nikki into taking a five-minute break and going outside with him. He dug in his pocket for money. “I need to get home.”
“I’m sorry. It seems I’ve given you the wrong impression.” Karina laughed and touched his arm. “Though I do have a proposition for you.”
Nikki walked up at that exact moment. Even if she’d pretended not to hear, it would’ve been impossible to believe. No worries there. She didn’t bother playacting. Later if he mentioned the annoyed hair flip over her shoulder, or the firm set of her lips that was half pout, half screw-you, she’d deny she ever did those things.
No, she wasn’t happy. But