You're Still the One

“Rachel?” he said at the same time. “What are you doing here?”

“Me?” She handed her drink to the blonde still standing at the door. “I live here,” Rachel said with a strained laugh as she wiped her palms down her jeans. “Come on in.”

Man, he hadn’t expected this. But he really had no choice but to stay. Best he could do was keep it short. Turning around now would make him look like a damn fool.

His feet couldn’t seem to move. “Hey, I can come back tomorrow. Obviously you’re having a party. I should’ve called.”

Behind him Nikki snorted.

Rachel smiled at her. “Get in here, Matthew Gunderson, so I can close the door, and you can make an introduction.”

Sighing, he stomped his boots on the mat, shaking off loose gravel and dried mud, then tried to let Nikki go first but she gave her head a small shake.

“It’s so nice to see you, Matt,” Rachel said as soon as he and Nikki stepped inside. After hesitating a moment, Rachel gave him a hug.

His arms automatically came up around her, and he prayed she couldn’t feel his heart pounding against his chest. The embrace was brief, somewhat awkward, as if it was fulfilling an obligation and not something she wanted to do.

Maybe it was his fault. He might’ve held her a little too tight. Exhaling slowly, he moved farther back, hoping to erase any wrong signal on his part.

“I’m Rachel,” she said to Nikki, who then introduced herself, since Matt’s dry mouth couldn’t seem to work. “And don’t worry, it’s not a party, not really,” Rachel said, talking fast, her pitch higher than he remembered. “Let’s go find my brothers. Would you like a drink?”

Nikki looked to him for an answer, the question in her eyes plain. Staying or leaving? Finally she said, “I’ll take a beer if you have one.”

“We do, in addition to wine, margaritas and a weird punch my brother concocted—” Rachel caught him staring at her. She blinked, glanced away, then returned her gaze to him, a stubborn glint in her eyes he knew well. “What?”

“Your hair.” He chuckled. “It’s purple—”

“Oh.” Her hand shot up to touch her head, and she blushed.

“God, Matt.” Nikki glared at him. “It’s the style.”

“I know. But Rachel’s not the type to…” Hell, what did he know? Apparently nothing, judging by the way both women stared at him. Nikki’s brown eyes told him he was a jerk for having laughed. Rachel didn’t seem embarrassed anymore, but somewhat amused.

“Let’s go get your drinks,” Rachel said, giving her hair a toss as if to say, “yeah, it’s purple, so what?” and then leading them in the direction of the dining room.

That was something else he remembered about her. Whenever she got embarrassed or tongue-tied she recovered quickly. He’d envied her that neat trick. Not him. Once he got bucked outta the saddle, he had a heck of a time thinking on his feet. After winning a bunch of titles and having so many microphones shoved in his face, he would’ve thought he’d be better at a comeback.

“It really is a party,” someone whispered from behind.

He turned his head. It was the blonde from the door. She was following them.

With a flirty smile, she leaned closer. “It’s Rachel’s birthday.”

Matt shot a look back at Rachel. He’d known the date, but he’d totally forgotten. Probably blocked it out. He’d never regretted leaving Blackfoot Falls, but he had regretted leaving Rachel…the day before her sixteenth birthday.

IF RACHEL HAD TO SMILE for a minute longer, her face was going to split in half. Or crack. Or do something equally unattractive. The second she’d heard Matt was in town she knew she’d see him at some point, but she hadn’t expected him to knock on her door.

Wow, she wished she hadn’t let Trace talk her into a glass of the lethal punch he’d cooked up. Especially not after the tequila shots earlier with Jamie. Her head was spinning, she was jabbering like a hormonal parrot, and good God, if her voice squeaked any higher she’d have to pass out earplugs.

Her best defense was to find her brothers. They’d keep Matt busy talking. Of course the subject of Matt had come up at dinner and she’d learned that Trace and Cole had been following his rodeo career. According to them, he’d made quite a name for himself…. He was like a rock star in the sport of bull riding.

She vaguely recalled her mother mentioning he’d started rodeoing seven years ago. Apparently Rachel hadn’t been in the mood to hear about him. It wasn’t until she moved away that she could think of him with any objectivity. And then it hadn’t mattered because after the homesickness passed, she’d adapted quickly to college life. Yes, she’d enjoyed coming home for the holidays, but she was always ready to return to her independence and the lights of Dallas.

Still, she wondered if he’d ever understood how badly he’d crushed her tender heart. Probably not. At the time he thought she was too young for him. It was more likely that he’d passed her affection off as a phase that had faded within a week.

She stopped at the dining room table, covered with filled ice buckets, glasses, chilling wine and a big bowl of Trace’s pinkish-orange punch sitting next to the leftover birthday cake. The lettering was mostly gone and you couldn’t tell the cake was for her. She was glad about that. Though not so happy to see that the beer hadn’t been replenished in the silver cooler.

“Okay,” she said, picking up glasses and holding them up to the light just to be sure they were clean. “We have more beer in the family room wet bar, also a blender of margarita mix in the kitchen. And this? My brother’s 100 proof…frankly, I’m not sure what to call it. He says punch.”

“Let me guess….” Matt smiled. “Trace?”

Rachel nodded. “He was only seventeen when you left, and still you know.”

Matt’s smile faded. The cautious way he met her eyes removed any doubt he was thinking about that night—him leaving, not saying a word, the inadequate note he’d left for her….

If they were alone she’d tell him it was okay. He didn’t have to worry. It wouldn’t be a lie, but seeing each other again after all those years was stirring up crazy and unexpected feelings. At least for her.

Oh, God…an annoying thought struck her. She’d done the math. She could’ve made any sort of joke about Trace not changing. Most people wouldn’t remember it had been exactly ten years since Matt left. But she did. Ten years and one day.

Jeez, what was wrong with her? Until she’d seen him earlier, she really hadn’t been thinking about him. Even if she had, too bad. He had Nikki. And she was gorgeous with her long dark hair, olive skin and light brown eyes.

“So…” Rachel pretended to study the table and cleared her throat. “What will it be?”

“I’ve changed my mind about the beer,” Nikki said. “I might need the punch.” She glanced at Matt, who eyed her with a touch of amusement and an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Their private look depressed Rachel. It shouldn’t have—she had no business having any reaction. Carefully keeping her gaze lowered, she grabbed the tongs to put ice in the glass.

“I can do that myself,” Nikki said. “Matt, I know you want a beer, so why don’t you two go get it. I’ll find you.”

Rachel looked up. He was watching her with blue eyes she remembered differently. Had she been too young to notice the smoldering intensity? “Beer?”

“Unless your brothers wiped them out.”

“They better not have.” She moved around the table, smiling at Nikki. “Help yourself to the cake. Or anything in the kitchen,” she added, feeling a bit guilty.

It would make sense to wait for her since it took seconds to ladle punch into a glass. But Rachel wanted Matt to herself, even if only for two minutes.

“Thanks,” Nikki said. “The cake does look good. I just might have a piece.”

Matt’s brows drew together in a puzzled frown directed at Nikki, who ignored him and switched places with Rachel so she could get to the punch bowl.

“You want to wait for her?” Rachel asked, unnerved to be near enough to see a small scar on his beard-roughened chin.

“Nah, she’s okay. I never have to worry about that one.”

Except he did, Rachel could see it in his lingering gaze, and she felt horrible for being disappointed. But when he touched the small of her back as she slipped past him, she felt something else altogether.

It was crazy, inappropriate, unacceptable, yet she couldn’t make herself unfeel the sizzling electric shock that had flowed from his palm up her spine. She sincerely hoped it was the cumulative effect of the day’s booze causing her to act like a dope. She wasn’t the type of woman to covet a man who was taken. He was with Nikki, though Rachel didn’t believe they were married, and not just because of the lack of rings. It was simply a gut feeling. Had she kept her mouth shut instead of babbling when she first saw them, he would’ve introduced Nikki himself.