From This Moment On

Trace didn’t want to let go. He’d give just about anything to let his fingers trail down to her collarbone, slip beneath the scooped neckline. Just a little…he only wanted to feel more skin. Hell, he wanted more than that, but for now, what he cared about most was for her not to be afraid.

“Nikki?” He waited for her to look at him. Her eyes were black and filled with so much fear it sliced into his confidence. Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to do. He was good with horses. Everyone assumed he was good with women. And mostly he was…flirting was easy. But he’d never been tested when it really counted. “Can you trust me? I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

She stared into his eyes and moistened her lips. Taking in a deep breath, she lifted her hand, and he expected her to push him away. She held on to his wrist. “No offense. I don’t trust anyone.”

Trace smiled. That wasn’t entirely true but if that’s what she wanted to believe…

Her grip on his wrist tightened. “Does Matt know?”

“Not from me.”

“Whatever happens in there, don’t tell him.”

Now he knew he’d screwed up. Lester was inside. The kid might talk. “I won’t say a word. Will you wait here? I’ll be right back.”

She nodded, her gaze still locked with his, and he wanted to kiss her. Right here, where the sunlight glistened off those soft full lips and glowed from her golden skin. Fear slowly faded from her eyes replaced by something that looked suspiciously like it could be trust. Whatever it was it stopped his foolish thoughts and he let her go before his good sense ended up in the dust.

NIKKI WATCHED TRACE disappear into the cavernous stable. Along with him went her short-lived confidence. That she couldn’t fully appreciate the breadth of his shoulders or the muscular definition of his back told her how out of control her fear had grown. Back at the porch when she couldn’t smell and hear the animals, she’d been real clear that she wanted him with his shirt off. Now all she could think about was whether or not to run.

He wouldn’t force her to get too close to the horses, and even if he tried she’d refuse. But what if being in a stable made everything worse? Oh, she really did believe Trace wouldn’t let any harm come to her, but she also believed that the horses could sense she was terrified. If facing her terror head-on didn’t work, it would be murder living on the Lone Wolf. Maybe she could find an apartment in town. Sadie would know…

From deep inside the stable someone was walking toward her. Not Trace, but a shorter, huskier guy. He was young, she saw when he stepped out of the shadows, his hair lighter. Had to be the guy Trace mentioned. Already she’d forgotten his name.

“Hi,” he said as he got closer, eyeing her with curiosity.

“Hey.” She hugged herself, doing her share of sizing him up as he passed, checking for signs of evil-horse attack.

She casually angled to her left to inspect him from the back. His clothes weren’t torn and there was no blood. He wasn’t limping. All good to know.

“Nikki?”

She must’ve jumped three feet in the air before she spun toward Trace. “God, scare the hell out of me, why don’t you?”

He raised both hands, palms out. “Sorry.”

Okay, for the moment she could appreciate his chest. It was mostly smooth, just a faint dusting of hair between his brown nipples.

“You ready?”

“I guess.” She sucked in as much air as she could manage and wiped her damp palms down the front of her jeans.

“Good. Keep taking deep breaths.”

“If I tell you I have to leave then I’m leaving. Period.”

“Got it.”

“It does not mean I’m opening the subject for negotiation.”

“Glad you cleared that up.”

She swung a look at him. “I’m serious.”

“Me, too. You women seem to think everything requires a discussion.”

Nikki gaped at him, then noticed they’d advanced several feet inside. Bales of hay were stacked in the corner. On a railing three saddles sat in a row. The scent of leather and weirdly, soap, was strong. “Are you purposely being an ass to distract me?”

“Think about it. You ask a guy if he wants to stop for a drink, and he says yes or no. A man asks a woman the same question and what does he get?—‘Oh, I don’t know, isn’t it too late? What do you think?’” He’d raised his pitch to mimic a feminine voice and Nikki almost laughed.

“That’s not true,” she said. “And it’s sexist.”

He finger-combed back his dark hair, and frowned as if giving the matter serious thought. “You’re probably right about it being sexist, but I swear to God it’s true.”

“Really? Ask me again about going to Kalispell and see what I have to say.”

Trace grinned and caught her hand. “I wish we were at the Sundance. Then I’d know all the horses’ names.”

She slowly looked to her left. They were standing in front of the first stall, but she didn’t remember walking this far in.

The horse looked at her with its ears pricked forward.

Nikki moved closer to Trace. “Is it male or female?”

“She’s a mare. You might hear someone refer to her as a roan. That’s for the color. The paint over there might be referred to as a pinto.”

“I won’t touch her,” Nikki said, watching the mare’s nose strain over the stall door. “Any of them.”

“I wouldn’t let you. I don’t know these horses. We’re just having a look.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him as they kept walking.

Despite the fact that he’d been working in the sun and sweating, he smelled nice. Very masculine. Very different. Whatever combination made up his scent it was a turn-on. She almost forgot they were surrounded by horses. For a second she considered sliding her arm around his waist but didn’t. It would be crazy to let this turn into something else. This was perfect. She had an excuse for the clammy palms and racing heart. No need for Trace to know he was partly responsible. The fiery tingle low in her belly was all him.

He rubbed her arm. “Maybe some day when you’re at the Sundance helping Rachel and Jamie I’ll take you to our stable.”

“You’re never there when I am.” She bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t admitted she’d noticed his absence.

“I figured you were trying to avoid me.”

“I only go over to cover for Rachel when she’s busy with Matt or if Jamie calls.”

“Ah. I won’t take it personally then.”

She didn’t have to look to know he was grinning. She much preferred keeping her eye on the stalls as they walked by. A horse at the back made an angry sound. “Gee, don’t tell me…that’s Diablo.”

“He’s still getting used to being penned in.”

“Maybe we should turn around.”

“You’ve trusted me this far. Give me five minutes. You can stand as far back as you want.”

“The next county?” She sighed. “Five minutes.” Neither of them wore a watch. So what? She’d know when it was time to make a run for it.

They got to the last stall, and Trace took his arm from around her shoulders. She moved back as he stood at the stall and stroked the horse’s neck.

“Mustangs have a reputation for being harder to tame and train than other breeds. They’re innately suspicious of humans.”

“So he was wild when Matt bought him?”

“Someone else had him for a short while, but they couldn’t handle him.”

It had taken Trace about three hours. She’d watched him from her window, awed by his patience, never speaking above a whisper. The horse had responded fairly quickly all things considered.

“See this black hair rimming his ear? We call them black points.” Trace stayed focused on the stallion, murmuring things she couldn’t hear. She was beginning to think he’d forgotten about her when he said, “I have a proposition for you, Nikki.”

“What’s that?” she asked, suspicious when his gaze remained on the horse.

“Let me teach you to ride.”

“Diablo?”

“No.” The corners of his mouth quirked, but he kept the smile in check. “I have a Sundance mare in mind.”

She didn’t care if it was a pony. “Why? What’s the point?”

“You live on a ranch. It’ll be easier when you see you have nothing to fear.”

“I’ve been doing just fine by staying in my own corner.”

“You’re also missing out. Horses are terrific animals.” Trace met her eyes. “Come on, Nikki, give me a shot.”

Breathing in deeply, she turned her gaze to the stallion, and watched Trace stroke its velvety neck. “Okay,” she said, the word nearly sticking in her throat. She hated feeling afraid…of anything.

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