From This Moment On - By Debbi Rawlins Page 0,77

the country music coming from the jukebox. She had to do something. She glanced at the tables closest to her, then set the tray down on the one that had space. Everyone could sort out their own drinks.

She saw him start for the bar and hurried to intercept him, wiping her clammy palms on her jeans. She was able to head him off. But only because he stopped when he saw her coming.

“Hi.” She tried to swallow around the lump of panic lodged in her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Nikita.” Luis moved to kiss her, but she sidestepped him before realizing he’d only been going for her cheek. His touch on her arm was light, then fell away. This wasn’t the same man she remembered. “I understand,” he said quietly, giving her room.

Obviously unaware of the drama, someone from the back yelled for their beer. Nikki automatically turned and caught Trace’s eye. She gave him a small shake of her head and hoped he stayed put. “I’m working,” she told Luis while subtly walking him toward the door. “I really can’t talk.” She saw Sadie retrieve the tray and carry it to the back.

Of course everyone in the bar stared at them.

“No hurry. I don’t drink any more but I can have a soda while I wait,” Luis said, studying her face. “You look good.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I had to come. I got myself clean. Just like I promised you I would.” He sounded more urgent. “I want you back. You said you’d give me another chance if I turned my life around.”

“Luis, I was a kid when I said that.” She could barely remember the promise she’d made in another life. “I’ve changed, too.”

“I have savings now. Not drug money. I work at my cousin’s body shop. Totally legit. A few years and I can buy it from him.” He touched her cheek. “Everything I’ve done is for you, baby.”

She pushed his hand away. “I’m not going back to Houston.”

“Then we’ll go someplace else. Start fresh.”

“No, Luis. I wish you hadn’t come.” She’d always hated the loud country music from the jukebox. Where was it now when she needed it? “Please just leave.”

Luis looked past her, his shoulders squaring, and she knew it had to be Trace.

“Nikki, you all right?” he asked from just behind her.

“Fine.” She turned and forced a smile for him. “It’s okay.”

Trace met her eyes. Her weak assurance hadn’t been enough.

“You heard her.” Luis stayed calm, at least for him, but some of the old belligerence bled into his voice. “Go back and drink your beer, cowboy. And mind your own goddamn business.”

“See that’s the thing.” Trace gave him a thin smile. “Nikki is my business, and she doesn’t want you here.”

“Please stop.” She held on to Trace’s arm and put her other hand up to Luis. “Please, both of you.”

Luis swore. “Tell me how my wife is your business.”

Nikki couldn’t breathe. Her chest tightened and her throat closed. She reeled at Trace’s shocked expression, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his eyes.

* * *

TRACE WAITED FOR her denial. This stranger with the tats had to be lying. So why wasn’t she saying anything? She just stared, looking guiltier by the second. What the hell? “Nikki?”

She sucked in air, putting a hand to her throat, still staring at him, shame written all over her face. “It’s not like that...” She briefly hung her head, then looked at the other man. “Luis, just go. If you ever cared for me, you’ll leave. Now.”

Indecision flickered in his eyes. “I only came to get what’s mine,” he said, and stroked her arm.

Trace watched her delayed reaction in pulling away. “Sorry, dude,” he said to the guy, anger and stunned humiliation digging their hooks deeper into him. “My mistake.”

“Please, Trace.” Her voice was so faint he almost hadn’t heard her as he walked around them and out the door.

He got to the sidewalk, thought about stopping and bending over until his head cleared. The truck was still a block away. He pushed on.

Nikki was married? Jesus. That wasn’t the kind of thing that could slip someone’s mind. He hated to believe the guy, and he wouldn’t have if only she’d spoken up. Even if she was legally separated, that would’ve been okay with him. Things might’ve gone differently for them until she was divorced, hell, he didn’t know.

He jogged the last few yards to his truck, climbed inside with his heart pounding as if