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
