You're Still the One

“Matt Gunderson,” Sally repeated with a soft murmur. “He was a damn fine-looking young man last I saw him. Tall and lean, with those bedroom blue eyes…Got his pa’s looks. Wallace was real handsome in his twenties and thirties, before he started drinking heavy. What’s it been, ten years since Matt left?”

“Good thing he didn’t end up with Wallace’s nasty disposition.” Louise said. “Of course a decade is a long time…anything could’ve happened. I suppose he might be just as rotten as his father by now.”

“Not Matt,” Ruth Wilson said, the adamant shake of her head brooking no argument. “He was a quiet, sweet boy, and very smart, too.” He’d been her student, just like everyone under age forty living in Salina County had been at one time or another. “I’d hoped Matthew would go to college. I certainly encouraged him to give it a try. So did his mama. By the way, he was here for her funeral three years ago. Seems you ladies have forgotten.”

“I didn’t forget.” Libby Perkins sniffed. “Catherine Gunderson was a lovely woman. I don’t know a soul who didn’t attend her funeral. The way I hear it, Matt came back two weeks before she died, stayed glued to her bedside, saw to her burial arrangements the day she passed, then left an hour after the services.”

Rachel hadn’t gone to the funeral. She’d been in Dallas, studying for finals, and hadn’t learned of Mrs. Gunderson’s passing until a week later. By delaying the news, her mother had saved her from making the decision to return for the services. Selfishly, Rachel hadn’t minded. The timing had been bad as far as school went, and she hadn’t wanted to see Matt under such sad circumstances.

The women continued talking about the Gundersons, mostly Wallace and his haggard appearance of late. They speculated on whether it was due to drinking or if his failing health was the reason Matt had suddenly shown up. Though it was no secret the two had been estranged the minute Matt left a decade ago.

Rachel quit listening and tried to think about something else. Except it was difficult to ignore the jittery feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t even distract herself by talking to Jamie, not without the others hearing them. But the way Jamie kept shooting her inquisitive glances, it was obvious what was on her mind. The trouble was, Rachel hadn’t decided how much she wanted to share about Matt.

It was ridiculous that she was having any reaction at all. Absurd to be replaying scenes of hot summer afternoons they’d spent swimming in Mill Creek after she’d lured him away from his chores. She’d been a kid, not even a junior yet, and incensed that his father was so mean and making Matt work all the time.

She’d pretended to be hiking that first day she followed him to the fence line that separated their properties. And he’d pretended to believe her. After that it got to be a regular Friday thing throughout the rest of the summer. She’d just show up at the section of fence he was mending. For several weeks he only smiled at her teasing and flirting. Then one day he’d yanked off his hat and unbuttoned his shirt, and she’d nearly peed her pants.

The sneak had worn swim trunks under his jeans, but he’d let her go through her usual song and dance trying to tempt him. They’d raced each other to the creek. He’d let her win, then gave her a victory kiss. It was brief, nothing hot or steamy, but at the time she’d been convinced she was having a heart attack.

Until then, she’d never kissed a boy, at least not a real kiss, and she’d wanted more. But he’d slammed on the brakes, kept her at arm’s length. He’d said she was too young…anything beyond kissing wasn’t going to happen. It hadn’t stopped her from lying in the tall grass after he returned to work, staring up at the clear blue sky, daydreaming, debating whether she’d be a modern woman and keep her last name or become Rachel Gunderson.

To her annoyance, Matt had kept his word all summer, clear through fall, up to her sixteenth birthday. The kisses had grown more frustrating and sometimes he’d rubbed against her breasts, but always through her shirt. By February, a day before her birthday, she’d made up her mind. Half the girls in her class had boasted of having sex, and she decided she would lose her virginity to Matt that night when they met behind the calving shed. She’d taken a blanket with her, confident she could entice him into going to Mill Creek to do the deed. It was only fitting they made love for the first time there.

He’d never showed. The next morning she’d learned he left town, and her a short note. She’d cried for days, then lost her virginity to a classmate two months later. Not one of her finer moments, and she’d regretted nothing more than the rashness of her self-pity ever since.

But that was a lifetime ago. She was no longer that silly love-struck kid. She’d changed. He’d surely changed, too. Not that she thought he’d followed in his father’s footsteps. She agreed with Mrs. Wilson. Matt was good to his core. He’d never be like his bitter despicable old man.

“Okay, this has crossed over to torture territory,” Jamie whispered when Sally stepped away to grab a towel. “After our hair is done, you still want to get a manicure?”

“No.”

Jamie grinned. “That was emphatic.”

They’d already had to wait for the color to process then had their hair shampooed between numerous interruptions. A slew of customers stopped in to make appointments but mostly to find out if the news of Matt’s return had hit The Cut and Curl yet.

With the water running close to her ear, Rachel hadn’t heard much but then the disappointed faces told her enough. Twice she’d had to consciously stop clenching her teeth because, jeez, it was a shame to have suffered through two years of braces for nothing. “Our blow-outs shouldn’t take long, but I swear, if Sally turns off that blow-dryer one more time so she can chitchat I’ll scream.”

“If anyone else walks in, that’s exactly what she’s going to do.” Jamie turned to Roxy, who was trying to listen under the pretense of finding the right brush. “Let’s keep this quick, huh? And we’re skipping the manicures.”

When Sally returned with the dry towel, after stopping to yak with two more clients, Jamie passed on the same instructions to her. Rachel bit back a smile when the older woman gave Jamie a who-died-and-made-you-queen look that she completely ignored.

Jamie settled the tab while Rachel said her goodbyes. They stepped outside under the glaring afternoon sun, looked at each other and burst out laughing. The blue streak woven through Jamie’s pretty tawny-colored hair was almost neon and wider than she’d had in mind.

“Purple suits you,” Jamie said between snorts of laughter.

Rachel touched her hair. “I wanted out of there so badly I forgot to check it out.”

“Don’t you worry—it’s very you.” Jamie started giggling again.

“Gee, thanks for the endorsement. Do me a favor…make sure I’m there when Cole sees your hair.”

She sniffed. “He’ll love it.”

“Yeah, right.” Rachel glanced down Main Street. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Would he still be in town?”

She swung her attention back to Jamie. “Cole?”

“No,” Jamie said. “Uh-uh, don’t you dare play dumb with me. Not after I had to sit there and keep my mouth shut for two hours.” She checked for traffic, then tugged Rachel into the street. “Come on. You can tell me all about Matt at the Watering Hole.”

“Keep your voice down.” There wasn’t a soul within earshot, but still…“I wish there was something to tell. But there isn’t.” On the next block she saw a silver truck she didn’t recognize but then an older man opened the driver’s door. “And please, your mouth was barely shut for ten minutes.”

Jamie slid her a look of amusement. “I ought to get you drunk. Then let’s see what comes through the floodgates.”

“Nope. Won’t happen.” It suddenly occurred to her this would be a crummy time to see him. Too many people around. Though surely he was gone by now.

A few barbs later they made it to the Watering Hole. Jamie muttered a mild curse when she couldn’t open the door. “I can’t believe it’s closed.”

“Try again. Sometimes it sticks.” Rachel cast a final look down Main.

And held her breath when she saw him.

Matt was across the street at the other end of the block, coming out of the Food Mart. His hair looked darker and longer, still a light brown but without the sun streaks she’d always envied. He seemed taller, too, but that was probably her imagination.

“Is that him?” Jamie had won her battle with the door, and she stood there with it partially open, darting looks between Rachel and Matt.

“Yes.” Rachel’s voice came out a squeak and she cleared her throat as she watched him approach a black truck, a popular color around Blackfoot Falls. “It is.”

“Wow. He looks yummy. Go say hi.”

“No. I mean, I will.” Dammit, her voice still sounded funny. “But not now.”

Sadie, the owner, yelled from inside the bar for them to shut the door and quit letting out the heat. Jamie pulled it closed.

“We can’t stay out here.” Feeling jittery again, Rachel turned away from Matt and motioned for Jamie to get moving. “Go.”

She wouldn’t budge, only frowned in Matt’s direction. “Who’s that?”

Rachel couldn’t resist, and saw a slender woman with long black hair come from behind Matt. He held the passenger door open for her, then helped her up into the cab.

“Do you know who she is?” Jamie murmured.

“No.” Rachel swallowed. It was perfectly reasonable to assume Matt had taken the big step. He’d always struck her as the marrying kind. Except in her foolish young mind it had been her standing at the altar with him. “Okay, let’s get me drunk.”

MATT SLIPPED ON his sunglasses and drove down Main Street like a horse wearing blinders. He looked straight ahead, glad Nikki didn’t feel the need to talk. Three years ago when he’d come to see his mother, he’d stayed away from town. He liked most of the people who lived in Blackfoot Falls just fine. But all the questions…Christ, they drove him nuts.

Mostly their interest was aimed at his rodeo career. He’d done well in the past six years, won titles and buckles, banked a small fortune in prize money, and the attention came with the territory. Early on he’d promised himself he’d never let his head get too big for his hat. A couple of veteran bronc riders on the circuit had been prime examples of how having a few extra bucks in your pocket could change a man. Turn him into someone he’d end up despising down the road.

Like Wallace. Except his father had always been miserable and cantankerous as far back as Matt could recall, and not just with him. Wallace’s bad temper had extended to his wife, Matt’s mother, and that he’d found intolerable. But she’d refused to leave the bastard, which Matt had never understood, and never would.

And now the miserable buzzard was sick, and Matt could honestly say he didn’t give a damn. Any feelings he’d once had for the man had disappeared years ago. Matt had only come back for Nikki. She was confused and angry and needed closure before the old man kicked the bucket.

There was also the issue of the Lone Wolf. The ranch had been in the family for over a hundred and thirty years. According to the trust, the land had to be passed to another Gunderson. Whether the old man acknowledged her or not, Nikki had a right to half of everything. Gunderson blood flowed through her veins, and as far as Matt was concerned, she could have the whole operation—the land, the house, all of it. The place had been profitable, assuming Wallace hadn’t run it into the ground, and Nikki needed the money. Needed to quit the dive bars she’d been working, maybe get herself an education.

The week before she died, his mother had told him about Nikki. He’d finally met her a year ago in Houston, and sometimes it was still hard to believe he had a sister. Officially she was his half sister, but so what? She was related to him by blood…. She was family. His sister without the technical bullshit attached. And he wanted the best for her.

Even if it meant facing the crazy old drunk a final time. Matt only hoped there was enough left of the Lone Wolf to give Nikki a fresh start. But then Wallace would’ve had to crawl pretty far into the bottle to let the place deteriorate. Besides drinking and being mean, the other thing he did consistently was try to one-up the McAllisters.

Matt sucked in some air. Man, he couldn’t think about them without picturing Rachel. He didn’t expect to see her, and he was sorry about that. But someone as bright and pretty and outgoing as her wouldn’t stick around Blackfoot Falls. Rachel had far too much going for her. He’d reminded himself of that a hundred times the night he left ten years ago. Later, it had been no surprise to find out she’d gone to college. If she hadn’t, now that would’ve shocked him.

“You’re tense,” Nikki said. “If you’ve changed your mind, we can turn around right now, be back in Houston by tomorrow night.”

Matt glanced over at her. Her knees were drawn to her chest and she rocked gently against the seat belt. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said.

“I’m serious. We don’t have to do this. The bastard will probably deny he’s my father and we’ll have come for nothing.”

From the first day he met her, Nikki had always referred to Wallace as ‘the bastard.’ Then one night, after four shots of tequila with beer backs, Matt pointed out that technically she was the bastard. Silence had stretched long enough for him to regret teasing her. But then she’d smacked his arm and they’d laughed so loud the bartender told them to shut up or leave.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked, nerves making her mild Texas drawl more pronounced.

“Just wondering what you’re gonna call him.” Matt rested his wrist on the steering wheel, letting his hand dangle. “You’ve got choices…Wallace…you stupid bastard…Mr. Gunderson. You should be thinking about these things.”

“You jerk.” Laughing, Nikki shoved his shoulder. “I never should’ve let you talk me into this.” She hugged her knees again. “I wish we’d stopped at that bar in town. I could’ve used something to calm my nerves.”

“Yeah, that was the Watering Hole. Or some people call it Sadie’s. She owns the place. Nice lady, though I’ve only been in there once. I left Blackfoot Falls before I was legal.”

“So why did you go in there? To get the stupid bastard?” She exhaled sharply. “Yeah, I decided. Stupid bastard works for me.”

Matt smiled. “Something like that.” Hard to forget that day his mother had sent him to find Wallace.

He’d just turned sixteen, and the new heifer was about to drop her calf prematurely. His mother had worried Wallace would be furious if he wasn’t told. She was right, though Matt had known either way he was screwed. The minute Wallace caught sight of him walking into the bar he’d flown into a rage.

He hadn’t gotten physical, but he’d ranted and cussed at Matt the entire ride home. That day, for the first time in his life, Matt had been tempted to beat the crap out of him. For his mom’s sake he’d held his temper. She was the reason he hadn’t packed his bags the day he graduated from high school two years later. When he’d eventually ended up leaving, it was damn ironic his decision had also been because of her.

Nikki finally settled back in the leather seat and stared out her window. Except for the Rocky Mountains in the distance, there wasn’t much to see on the road to the Lone Wolf. Especially in February with the ground patchy with snow. Once they turned north there’d be more trees and hills to liven the landscape.

“You disappointed there isn’t more snow?” he asked after a while. She hadn’t been this quiet since they stopped in Oklahoma.

“A little.” She motioned with her chin. “Why is there so much more on the mountains?”

“Higher elevation.” When he was a kid he never counted on seeing the dirt until late March. At times they’d be buried up to their knees with snow. But it was warmer this year than most.

Or so people had claimed in the Food Mart after their questions got too personal and he’d froze them out. They were all curious about Nikki, of course, but he’d refused to oblige them. He’d introduced her as a friend. No need for anyone to know who she was until they saw how the meeting with Wallace played out.

“Pretty country,” she said. “Not flat like Houston.”

“Yeah, I do miss the mountains. Hey, you know it could still snow later tonight or tomorrow.” He knew she wanted to see it falling. “Don’t let the blue skies fool you.”

Her lips lifted in a faint smile. “You think we’ll be here that long?”

“Yep,” he said, but he’d hesitated a moment longer than he should’ve, and she sighed. The thing was, he truly didn’t see them turning around too fast. If only because it might take a few rounds to knock some sense into Wallace’s thick skull. “You want to play a word game?”

“No,” she said, laughing and groaning at the same time. “You really have to learn to lose gracefully.”

“Dammit, I didn’t lose. We’re tied.” They’d played every car game he knew, mostly to distract her. Though he had to admit she’d surprised him. She was clever, street-smart if not booksmart, but she also understood people. Once she took a man’s measure, she wasn’t far off the mark. “We’re about ten minutes out. Any more questions before we get there?”

She straightened her legs, putting her feet on the floorboard, then pulled her shoulders back as if ready to do battle. It wouldn’t come to that. Matt wouldn’t let it. “You still don’t think we should call first?”

“Nope.” He wasn’t as confident on taking that stand. Somewhere between the Food Mart and his truck, it struck him that he could’ve called Lucy to give her a heads-up and get one himself. The woman wasn’t just a housekeeper, she was a saint.

He knew she was still tending to Wallace three days a week, even though she was getting on in years. She’d been hired a month before Matt was born, had witnessed more than a few of Wallace’s tirades and had been a champ through his mother’s illness.

Yep, he probably should’ve called Lucy. Hell.

Too late now.

They were officially on Gunderson land, the place he’d sworn he’d never come back to.

3

WALLACE WAS DRUNK. Passed out on the old rawhide couch in his office, his jaw slack, his graying hair poking out every which way. Half a bottle of Jim Beam sat on the wood floor an inch from where his arm dangled off to the side.

Staring at him in disgust, Matt was glad he’d left Nikki in the truck. She didn’t need to see this; no one did. Matt breathed in deep, wondering how many times his mother had to walk in to find her worthless husband sprawled out, spittle dried at the corners of his mouth. Wallace hadn’t been this bad the first time Matt had put Blackfoot Falls in his rearview mirror.

Even so, a couple times he’d walked in when his mother had just shaken out a blanket over the old man. She’d tucked it around him and kissed his forehead, then went to bed by herself. It killed Matt that she was so patient and tolerant. He hadn’t understood then, and never would get why she’d stayed in the marriage. He’d begged her to leave Wallace. But she’d always just smiled, said she loved him and maybe someday he’d change.

Then Matt found out about Wallace’s affair with Rosa Flores. From his own mother. She’d known for over fifteen years, even that a child was involved. And still she’d stayed. Now she was gone, and Matt missed her, missed their secret phone calls. He missed the garbled texts she’d sent him from the smartphone he’d bought her so they could communicate without Wallace knowing.

He smiled, thinking about how she’d never gotten the hang of texting or sending emails. She’d sure liked getting his, though, and quickly figured out how to read them.

There were still days when Matt struggled against his anger. At her. Sometimes at himself. Always at Wallace. No one could convince Matt the stress of living with the bastard hadn’t shortened her life.

She’d claimed she loved Wallace. Love. What the hell did that word mean? It was supposed to be something good. Something that made you happy, stronger, passionate…even country songs touted its virtue. But obviously love could also make you stupid.

Matt ran his gaze over his father’s frail form. He seemed shorter, narrower, definitely not the same big man who’d doggedly bullied Matt over schoolwork, how he rode a horse or mucked the stables. Sometimes Wallace had scared the crap out of him.

Funny, he thought, watching the drool slip from a corner of Wallace’s open mouth, he’d been worried his hatred of the man would seep out like venom in front of Nikki. But Matt actually felt pity seeing him lie there, his life nothing but a wasteland. The letter Matt had received from his mother’s friend about Wallace being sick hadn’t mentioned the diagnosis. Matt assumed it was either cancer or cirrhosis, but he didn’t know.

Hell, maybe the booze helped dull the pain.

Cursing at himself, Matt scooped the fallen magazines off the floor and tossed them onto the oak coffee table. What the hell was he doing making excuses for the old drunk? That logic didn’t wash anyway. He’d been a drinker since Matt was a small kid.

He glanced around at the used glasses and opened mail that littered the desk and table. Obviously it was Lucy’s day off or the place would’ve been tidier. He was kind of glad since he would’ve hurt her feelings by not calling ahead. No sense in him cleaning up. He wouldn’t bring Nikki in here, not with Wallace passed out like this. Matt wanted the man sober, clearheaded enough that he might use the chance to do right by Nikki and give her some answers.

After closing the office door, Matt surveyed the family room, then stuck his head in the kitchen. The rest of the house seemed okay. He doubted anyone had recently used the guest room where he planned on putting Nikki. Knowing Lucy, she kept it dusted, and if not, the room would still be better than the dingy one-bedroom apartment Nikki called home.

He walked outside to where his truck waited in front of the house. The sky was getting dark and he couldn’t see Nikki through the tinted windows, but he knew she was there. She wouldn’t have gotten out of the cab.

To the left of the barn the long rectangular bunkhouse was lit up. It was suppertime for the men, which had been part of Matt’s arrival plan. Several hired hands had been with the Lone Wolf for over twenty years. They knew their jobs, and Wallace left them alone. Matt liked one of the old-timers in particular, but he hadn’t wanted to run into anyone before he’d seen Wallace.

Nikki cracked the door open when he got close. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice nervous. “You were gone a long time.”

“Sorry,” he said glancing at his watch.

“So? Are we staying or leaving?”

“Staying.” He opened the back door of the extended cab to get their bags.

He noticed her gaze stray toward the house, but she didn’t make a move to get out. He’d turned on a foyer lamp but he should’ve flipped on a couple more. The place was big, two and a half stories, with lots of natural stone and wood, and looking eerie in the dusky twilight. It was a well-built home constructed in the 1920s after the original log cabin burned to the ground.

“What did he say about you being here?” she asked, pushing the door open all the way.

“He’s asleep.” He paused. “Maybe drunk.” Matt yanked out the small duffel he’d brought, annoyed at himself for pussyfooting around the truth. But unlike his mother, he wasn’t trying to protect Wallace. Matt sighed. It wasn’t like she wouldn’t know…. “He is drunk. Doubt he’ll be waking up anytime soon.”

She stared at the house, still gripping the door handle. “We can’t just go in there.”

“Yeah, we can. It’s my house, too.” He almost added it was equally hers, but she didn’t like hearing anything to do with the Trust or her being a Gunderson. “We’ll get you settled in the guest room, then put something together for dinner. We’ll have the kitchen to ourselves.” He saw how thrilled she was with that idea. “Or go eat at the diner in town. Up to you.”