Your'e Still the One (2 page)

Jamie was forced to either open the door or smash her nose against the glass. Still it didn’t stop her from glancing over her shoulder and murmuring, “You know they’re all dissecting me five ways to Sunday, worried I’m not good enough for Cole.”

She wouldn’t argue that one. People around here were proprietary about their hometown boys as a rule, but the McAllister brothers, Cole in particular, were the cream that rose to the top.

They both stepped inside, a slight whiff of perm solution making Rachel consider turning around. Naturally, Sally, the owner, and her cousin Roxy—the only other beautician in the shop—had already spotted them outside. So had the two customers sitting under the dryers, one of them being Ruth Wilson, a popular teacher now retired. Rachel almost didn’t recognize Mrs. Perkins until she poked her head out from under the noisy plastic bubble.

“Happy birthday, Rachel,” she said. “I ran into your mama at the Food Mart buying ingredients for your cake yesterday.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Perkins.” No such thing as a surprise party in Blackfoot Falls. If anyone ever pulled off such a feat, it would be one for the record books.

Looking pleased that she’d been the first to acknowledge Rachel’s birthday, Libby Perkins waited for everyone else to follow suit, then ducked back under the dryer.

Jamie was trying to control a smile and not gawk at the dated magazine cutouts on the pink walls as she stepped up to the counter where Sally leaned a plump hip.

Rachel remembered something. “Do not ask for a pedicure,” she told Jamie low enough not to be overheard.

Sally stopped blowing on her red glossy nails. “What can I do for you young ladies?”

Jamie hesitated, then frowned at Rachel. “Seriously?”

“Trust me.”

Sally’s fake brows lifted in question. They’d been plucked clean and penciled back in to match her big blond hair. The ’do was really something. Each year she seemed to tease the crown a bit higher—probably her version of a facelift—and poor Jamie, since laying eyes on her up close, seemed to be having trouble breaking contact.

Rachel bit back a grin. “I’d like a shampoo and blow-out, a manicure, too, if you have time.”

“Sure, we do.” Sally gave Jamie the once-over. “What about your friend?”

“Same for me.” Jamie smiled, and subtly nudged Rachel. “And streaks. Just one for me, blue if you have it. Rachel?”

Sally straightened, a twinkle lighting her eyes. “You want a streak in your hair, Rachel?”

“Oh, why not? What color choices do you have? Purple would be good.”

Roxy moved in next to Sally, her eyes wide under her mousy brown bangs. “Your mama’s gonna have a cow.”

“Guess what?” Rachel leaned over the counter. Excitement shining in their faces, anxious for any tidbit, both women met her halfway. “I’m twenty-six years old.”

Sally drew back with a humph. “You saying you don’t listen to your mama anymore?”

“Nope.” Rachel smiled. “I’m saying she hasn’t told me what to do in a long time.”

Clearly disappointed, Roxy shuffled back to her workstation. Anyone who knew her could pick out which spot was hers by the Elvis photos outlining the wall mirror. He’d passed away before she was born, but she’d been in love with him since the eighth grade.

“Give me a minute to get ready for you.” Sally hustled toward the back station with the turquoise shampoo bowl.

Rachel knew the wait would be a bit longer so Sally’s nails could dry. She turned her back on the shop so only Jamie could hear her. “The place looks old-fashioned but Sally isn’t a bad stylist. She keeps up on trends. Even tried jazzing up the place to keep the younger women from going to Kalispell for their haircuts, but the older clientele complained.”

“Where do you get yours cut?”

Rachel smiled wryly. “Kalispell.”

“Okay, next time you go...”

“Yep, I’ll let you know.”

Jamie picked up a hairstyle magazine left on the counter and flipped through it. “So what’s the deal about not asking for a pedicure?”

“I doubt Sally is set up for it. Around here goats and horses have their hooves trimmed, and women cut their own toenails.”

“This is sad. I don’t know when you’re kidding anymore.”

“Sometimes it’s an adjustment for me, too. I lived in Dallas for over six years, remember.”

Jamie sighed. “Then I guess I shouldn’t ask for a Brazilian either.”

Rachel laughed loudly enough that Sally and Roxy both sent her curious looks. Sally waved them back to her station, and before Rachel took the lead, she murmured to Jamie, “I dare you.”

“I’m not worried. They’ll be too busy talking about you and your purple streak, Miss Goody Two-Shoes.”

“Oh, they’ll be whispering all right...about what a horrible influence you are on me.”

This time Jamie burst out laughing. “I’m screwed either way.”

Sally motioned for Rachel to sit in her chair. “You ladies are in mighty fine moods. You just wait till you’re looking down the barrel of
forty
-six and see how chipper you are.” She shook out a plastic pink cape and draped it over Rachel.

“What would you know about that?” Rachel lifted her hair so Sally could tie the strings. “You can’t be a day over thirty yourself.”

Sally chuckled. She’d been telling people she was thirty-nine for so long, her age had remained a true mystery. But forty-six sounded about right.

Rolling her eyes, Jamie sank onto Roxy’s chair and was sheathed with her own plastic cape.

“You two serious about putting in streaks?” Sally asked.

In unison they assured her they were, and she eagerly pulled out color samples. Roxy didn’t seem as impressed, and she gladly stood by while Sally mixed the two selected shades.

Mrs. Perkins’s dryer went off and she started to say something when the door opened. All heads turned toward Louise. Her cheeks red, she looked as if she’d run all the way from her fabric store, a pair of scissors in one hand, and a silver thimble on her right thumb.

“You’re not gonna believe who I just saw going into Abe’s Variety.” Her gaze panned the room, her eyes bright and excited.

“Well, go ahead, tell us before you have a stroke,” Sally said impatiently.

Searching each face until she was satisfied she had everyone’s full attention, Louise took another dramatic pause, then deliberately met Rachel’s eyes and said, “Matt Gunderson.”

2

R
ACHEL
FELT
THE
BLOOD
drain from her face. She didn’t think she’d said anything out loud or made a weird noise, but she might have. All the other women were staring at her, including Jamie.

For pity’s sake, Rachel hadn’t seen him in ten years. Yeah, she’d had a thing for him once, but she’d been a kid, only sixteen when he left town. The few people who’d suspected her crush hadn’t taken it seriously. For two reasons—he was three years older than her, already a man, and he was a Gunderson. Everyone in Blackfoot Falls knew McAllisters and Gundersons didn’t mix. Not if Matt’s father had anything to do with it, anyway.

“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.”

* * *

M
ATT
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.