From This Moment On - By Debbi Rawlins Page 0,59

me.”

“Of course I would,” she murmured, still not sure how to take this. She’d expected him to be the one to make it clear there were no strings attached. In her experience guys tended to do that after they got what they wanted. Maybe their friendship made things different.

She’d never been friends with a guy before. Garret had been concerned with his own reputation, not hers. And the others? She doubted if they’d ever given it one thought. All Trace did was confuse her. “I’d better get inside before the dogs start barking.” She lifted the handle, but before she could get out, Trace had come around to her side.

“What?”

“You couldn’t wait and let me get the door for you?”

Nikki grinned. “First you say sexist things about showing me off and then you want to open the door for me.”

“At least I’m consistent.” That damn smile of his. He slid his arms around her, apparently unconcerned that the porch light was shining on them. “I want that good-night kiss.”

She glanced at the dark bunkhouse. “So much for not sparking any gossip.”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling away a bit. He rubbed her back, brushed a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “About that...I sure can try to keep us low-key, but it means I’d have to stay away from the Watering Hole.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Although I don’t see me pulling it off for more than an hour.”

“A whole hour, huh?” Nikki was getting pretty good at appearing cool, except for her traitorous sprinting pulse. “You better not be using me to discourage all those women from chasing after you.”

“Using you? You know better.” He tipped her chin up. “Gotta admit, though, that’s a nice bonus.” He looked at her as if kissing her this very instant was the most important thing in his whole life. But he held back. For her. When he let go of her hand to step away, she grabbed on to his shirtsleeve.

“Wait.” Why she had the sudden urge to confess, she didn’t know. But she had to tell him about the prom dress. She had to say it out loud because remembering had triggered old shame that started eating at her on the way home. And Trace was her friend, right? She hoped he wouldn’t judge. If he did, well, still better to let him see her for who she was. “I have something to tell you.”

He nodded, his gaze narrowing slightly.

“That dress...the one my mom bought me for the prom. It cost so much, I had no business asking for it in the first place.” She paused to swallow. “I’d picked it up from the store just before Garrett cancelled on me. I should’ve turned around right then and gotten a refund. But I was furious and hurt and I wasn’t thinking.”

She shook her head, amazed that the pain of that day felt so fresh. Almost as crippling as her shame. “I missed the bus and had to walk home. The dress was wrapped in plastic but I’d dragged it a mile before I saw that the hem had been completely ruined. My mother had worked so many hours so she could get me that dress.”

Staring at him, she let out a pent-up breath. Well crap, confessing hadn’t felt as freeing as she’d hoped. Probably because he didn’t really understand what it had been like for her and her mother back then. Which was made more clear by his helpless shrug.

“Hey, fifteen. That’s a tough age. Everybody messes up when they’re fifteen.”

“But I hurt my mom, the only one who’s always been there for me. What kind of person does that?”

“A teenager.” He’d gone back to rubbing her back. “Feel better getting it off your chest?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, still off balance and mentally scrambling to pull herself back on track.

Trace talked as if what she’d done was nothing. Like skipping a class or not returning a library book. He’d implied there would be more between them. He’d used the word relationship, although she’d have to ask him what he meant by that. Later. Because she wasn’t certain she wanted to know yet. There was a part of her that wanted to pretend that the look in his eyes was full of promises he’d keep. But that couldn’t be true. She wasn’t some delicate flower. She’d never be that. No matter where she lived, or how clean her slate was supposed to be.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you