You're Still the One

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.”

She quietly closed her door and reached around him for the bag of bread, cold cuts and cheese they’d bought at the Food Mart. “I’m not hungry, but I vote we go out.”

“Okay.” He grabbed her bag with his other hand and used his elbow to close the truck door. “After we eat I have to make a stop. Another ranch not too far from here called the Sundance.”

“Tonight?”

They walked side by side toward the porch. “Yeah, I probably should.” No need to point out they could be headed back to Texas come morning. He didn’t think so, though the possibility existed. But he couldn’t leave without seeing Barbara McAllister. He owed her a debt, and he aimed to pay it.

“I SHOULD WAIT IN THE TRUCK,” Nikki murmured as they walked toward the McAllister house, all lit up as if there might be a party inside.

“You’ll like them. You won’t meet nicer people.” He bumped her shoulder. “Three brothers, all good-looking guys.”

“Bet they’re flattered you noticed.”

Matt shook his head, sliding her an irritated look. Truthfully he was glad she’d relaxed enough to joke around. Meeting genuine folks like the McAllisters would help make her more comfortable and give her a better feeling for Blackfoot Falls. He’d mentioned that it would be safe to tell them she was his sister, but she wasn’t ready and insisted that she be introduced as a friend.

They got to the porch and he looked over at her. “How you doing, sis? You okay?”

She wasn’t shy or timid, but she always blushed a little when he called her sis. Tossing her hair back, she eyed the big glass window. “You country people have some weird customs. Someone shows up at my door without calling, I don’t answer.”

“Uh, yeah, I know.”

“And yet you’ve learned nothing.”

Ignoring her sigh, he got a good look inside as they mounted the steps. Not that he’d admit it, but he suddenly had second thoughts about the surprise visit. There were a lot of people moving around the living room, mostly young women. Just his luck Mrs. McAllister was having a Tupperware party or some damn thing like that.

“We can still turn around,” Nikki whispered.

“Nah.” He knocked on the door, waited, heard the music and laughter inside, and tried again, only louder.

“Still think this is a good time?”

He stepped back. “Maybe not.”

The door opened. A blonde he didn’t know smiled at them. She had a drink in one hand, and waved them inside with the other. “Come in.”

He looked past her, hoping to see Cole or Trace, anyone he recognized. At least half a dozen women were sitting in the living room sipping drinks near the fireplace, and several more stood toward the back. They were all dressed up, some of them wearing fancy sweaters, high-heeled city boots and skintight pants. Like they were vacationing at one of those pricey ski lodges. Nobody looked familiar.

His gaze caught on a nice ass in a pair of worn jeans, small waist…

He blinked hard at the loose auburn curls that skimmed her shoulders. Only one woman he knew had hair that deep sexy reddish-brown shade.

She turned around. Her gaze connected with his and her green eyes widened. The smile slipped from her pink lips. She looked exactly how he felt. Stunned. “Matt?”