by Kayn, Debra
Intricately woven strands of colored strings braided together formed one thick rope, bigger around than her thumb. She ran her fingers over the design, trying to figure out how someone would make such a thing. An idea came to her, and she carried it into the other room.
"I've got a question for you." Joan sat down beside him and showed him the rope. "Did you or one of the others make this?"
"That one's mine. It's a lead. It clips onto a horse's halter strap." He fingered the rope and held up the other end. "See here? I always put blue and green on the tips of the ones I make."
She raised her brows. "So this is homemade?"
"Yeah."
"Will you teach me how to make one?" she asked.
"I thought Brody said you didn't like horses."
"I do…I think. Maybe if I was around them more I'd learn to like them. I've only been on the one horse with Brody. I don't like heights, but that's not why I want to learn how to braid." She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. "You'll think this is stupid, but I have no idea how to braid my hair."
"Right." He tossed the rope onto the coffee table. "You're a girl. All girls know how to do their hair.
"I know how to do a simple three-strand braid, but I want to learn how to French braid and do whatever you did with the rope." She tugged at her hair. "My hair is thick and heavy. When I pull it back in a ponytail I end up getting a headache. I think if I could braid it back evenly, it'll keep the pressure off the top of my head and keep the hair out of my face when I work."
He seemed to study her hair. "I like it down."
She turned away to hide her smile. "When I get a full time job at one of the hospitals, they'll require me to wear my hair back."
The cordless phone on the table rang, and Joan handed it to Trace. He shook his head and waved her away. She rolled her eyes, and pushed the button.
"Hello. You've reached Lakota ranch." She waited, and then broke out in a smile. "Hi, Devon."
Trace tapped her arm, and motioned for her to hand him the phone.
"Everything is fine. Trace wants to talk with you." She passed him the phone and grinned when Trace asked Devon to bring a few pieces of rope up to the house.
When the call ended, she grabbed his hand. "You'll teach me then?"
"Yeah, if it'll keep you quiet for a few hours."
An hour later, Joan threw the tangled, colored ropes off her lap and flopped on the floor. She stuck out her lower lip. No matter how many times she tried to keep the strands from knotting, she still couldn't get more than an inch of braid made.
"You're giving up too soon." Trace folded his arms across his chest. "It takes practice."
"If you haven't noticed, I don't have a lot of patience." She sat up and crossed her legs.
"I think you do. You put up with me, don't you?" He scooted to the edge of the cushion. "Come here, and sit on the floor and lean your back against the couch."
She crawled over, and sat down between his legs. Her heart raced at the intimate position, and she was glad he couldn't see her face.
Trace ran his hands through her hair and let the volume fall behind her back. Tingles rolled down her neck, and she shivered. She laughed softly. "You gave me the willies."
"What's that?" He fingered combed her hair.
"Goosebumps." She held up her arm. "See?"
"Hm." He flipped the top of her hair into her face, pulled another clump, and then gathered all her hair into his hands.
Letting him play with her hair wasn't a problem. Knowing it was Trace playing with her hair had her quivering. She puckered her lips and slowly exhaled. Her stomach fluttered and she held herself stiff. It's only hair. It's only hair. It's only—
He gave her a gentle tug. "Relax and let your head fall back."
Two minutes later, she'd closed her eyes and the tension in her neck disappeared. She sighed. Trace's fingers roamed over her scalp messaging her and for the first time since arriving at Lakota ranch, she totally relaxed.
He hit every pressure point around her head. His nails dug into her skin, releasing any stress lingering behind. The weight of her hair lifted and the slight breeze from the air conditioner tickled her neck. She closed her eyes and let him work his magic. Not sure if she ever wanted him to stop.
Her mind slipped into another place, where dragonflies flew above the bluest of waters. She could feel the way his soft touch manipulated her hair into position, but all she wanted to do was sit and never move again.
The transition between braiding to caressing meshed together. Her breathing deepened, her limbs relaxed. She lost herself in his gentle touch as his rough hands slid through her hair.
He seemed to take his time, letting her enjoy the pleasure of his thumbs skimming her neck. Every cell in her body aware of the intimate way he was touching her. Unable to ask him to stop, she stayed quiet.
"All done." He removed his hands.
She scooted away, patted her head, and gazed up at him. "You make it seem so simple."
"It is." He lowered himself to the floor. "Your turn. I'll talk you through the steps. It's easier to learn on someone's hair than it is with ropes."
Joan sat behind him on the couch. She swiftly inhaled as he settled between her legs. Oh my.
"Have you braided hair for a lot of people?" She scrunched her nose. Dumbass. Could I be more transparent?
"I've always worn my hair long. It's an old tradition among the Lakota to keep it long, only trimming the ends, except in mourning when you can choose to cut it off."
She ran her fingers through his hair. His length was as long as hers when it was wet, before her curls pulled it up to the back of her shoulders. "You've never cut it short?"
His shoulders stiffened. "I have never mourned."
He handed her the brush. She pulled the bristles along the curvature of his head. "I wish my hair would lay straight the way yours does."
"When you're done getting the tangles out, gather the hair at the top of my head in your left hand, and don't let go of the rest."
She thread her fingers through the strands, surprised at how much softer his hair was than hers. "Okay."
"Separate that handful into three equal groups. You'll have to hold two in one hand, just hook the strand on the left side over your pinky. Don't worry about keeping it tight, you'll be able to pull it snug as you go."
It took her two tries, but she was able to keep all the groups separated in her hands without losing them. "All right. I think I got them."
"Cross the right one over the center strand, and then the left one over the new center strand."
"Like a regular braid, right?" She followed his directions and waited. "What now?"
"This is the tricky part. You'll want to go back to the left side, but this time use a free finger to grab more hair hanging on the edge of my temple without losing the bunch you already have separated in your hand. You'll want about an inch worth."
She dropped the hair she'd already gathered and groaned.
"Don't stop. You should do okay now, if you keep the other two strands away from the one you lost hold of."
Running her hand back through his hair, she divided it in a line, grabbed more, and held tight. "Do I cross to the middle one?"
"Yes." He trembled.
She snorted. "Did I give you the willies too?"
"Yeah." He lifted his arm.
She smiled. Her stomach warmed, knowing exactly how he was feeling. Who knew braiding hair was such an intimate act.
"Okay, I got it." She let her elbows fall to her sides. "My arms are shaking."
"If you learn to braid, your arms will get stronger," he said.
She couldn't hide her smile. Before now, she would never have guessed that the man who'd bucked her every step of the way while taking care of him was capable of lighthearted teasing.
"What's next?" She pulled his hair tighter and stretched her legs out on each side of him.
"Do the same thing on the left. You want to go back and for
th, gathering more hair from the sides each time and bringing them into the middle, until all my hair is back into a simple braid that starts at my neck." He lifted his arms and hung them over her knees. His hands rubbed her lower legs. "Concentrate on keeping the braiding tight and if you drop one, hold the others so you can pick up where you stopped."
She continued bunching his hair, pulling, rearranging her hands, and keeping each strand separate. Halfway down the back of his head, she noticed he still stroked her legs. She chewed on her lip. He made it difficult to concentrate on what she was supposed to be doing.
"I've ran out of hair to pick up on the sides." She rested her arms again.
"Did you end up with three strands?"
"Yes," she said.
"Go ahead and finish the rest of my hair the regular way now." He dipped his chin to his chest. "When you get to the end, I'll show you how to tie it off without using a rubber band."
The rest of the process was familiar to her, and she quickly came to the end of the strands. "Here it is."
He reached back and took the bottom of his braid from her. "Watch."
She marveled at the way his big hands made fast work of tying the end of his braid. He impressed her with how easily he'd taught her how to braid hair. Sure, there were stray strands sticking out around his head at odd angles, but she could see the way the black strands weaved together and held his hair back from his face.
"I did it! Now I'll have to practice on my own hair when my arms regain their strength. Who knew that was so hard." She wiggled her way around him and stood. "Let me help you up."
She held out her hand. He grasped her wrist, and pushed himself off the floor, until he stood in front of her on one foot. She reached up on tiptoe and without thinking, kissed him on the cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered
Trace hooked his hand around her neck and brought her back to him. He stared down into her eyes, questioning, asking. She licked her lips, hypnotized by the desire darkening his eyes.
He captured her mouth in a gentle kiss. His lips were warm on hers, moving with great care and attention. She wanted to savor the way her body reacted.
She encircled his waist and held on as the kiss deepened. She felt wanted and needed all at the same time. Forgetting the real reason she was here at Lakota ranch, she let herself go.
When he ended the kiss and pulled back, she whined, not wanting the closeness to end. Then she realized what she'd done.
"Oh, my God, I'm sorry." She moved away from him.
He only stared at her.
Brody and Devon's voice reached them from further away in the house. Joan ducked her chin. Warmth crept up her neck.
She didn't have time to react, because the others entered the room.
"What the hell happened to your hair?" Devon stopped, glancing back and forth between Trace and Joan. "Is it National Wear a Braid Day?"
"Joan wanted to learn how to braid hair. I showed her." Trace sat down on the couch and folded his arms across his chest.
"Oh, um…yeah, I see that. I think." Devon tilted his head to the side. "No, I really don't. Braiding?"
Brody smacked Devon on the arm. "Let's get out of here."
"Why? I thought we were coming inside to cool off for a while." Devon started to walk toward the chair, but Brody grabbed his shirt. "Hey. What are you doing?"
"Kitchen. Now." Brody pulled Devon away, grumbling.
Joan moved to the couch, putting distance between her and Trace. "I didn't mean…it won't happen again."
Trace's gaze narrowed. She moved back. How could she have let herself lose control?
"I'll just go into the kitchen and make you a snack." She escaped and hid in the dining room, waiting until she heard Brody and Devon leave the house.
Sinking down into one of the chairs by the table, she held her head in her hands. The kiss didn't mean anything. He mistook her thanks for something more. It was a common mistake. Oh, God. I wanted him to kiss me.
Chapter Six
The next morning after they kissed, Trace was in a grouchier mood than ever, and had Joan running all over the ranch delivering messages to the other guys at the stable, getting him coffee, bringing him files, and generally made her stay away from him by sending her on insignificant errands. She pulled her shoulders back and climbed the porch steps. She wasn't going to let his attitude ruin her day.
With such a busy morning, she had no time to talk to him about what happened yesterday, or to right the situation so they could go on being patient and caregiver. She yawned as she opened the front door. The unspoken truth had sat between Trace and her at dinnertime, and had kept her awake until after three this morning.
If he decided to fire her, she'd be even worse off than she was now.
Car-less, sister-less, and soon apartment-less, unless the stars aligned and she could find a place to hire her soon. Going back to delivering meals fifteen hours a week, even if she did manage to buy a cheap car, wouldn't keep her from losing the apartment, she sagged against the door. When would life settle down?
Entering the living room, her cell phone rang. She fished it out of her back pocket and answered the call.
"Hello?"
It was Ed Thomas from Thomas Insurance Agency. Her sigh of relief soon turned into disbelief.
"What do you mean? Of course I had a current insurance policy on the car?" She thrust her fingers in her hair.
After learning she'd missed last month's payment, and her insurance expired, she thanked him for calling and hung up. There was nothing else she could do. No amount of crying or arguing was going to change the facts. She'd screwed up. Again.
Without the money coming from the insurance company, she'd have no other way to purchase a car but to use what she earned working for Trace. That'd leave no money to pay for Katie's way home.
"Dammit." She stomped her foot. "Dammit!"
"Hey…" Brody leaned against the wall in the archway leading to the dining room. "What happened?"
She shook her head. "I don't like dealing with the insurance company about my car. You know how they have to have everything written in stone." And, a monthly check. How could I be so stupid?
"If you need any help. Devon's great with that sort of stuff." Brody motioned her to follow him. "We want to talk with you for a moment, if you have the time."
She pointed behind her toward Trace's wing of the house. "Let me check with Trace, and make sure he doesn't need me right away."
"He's not in there. He went outside." Brody walked over and grabbed her hand. "He'll be fine for five minutes."
She followed him down the hall. "I told Trace yesterday that going out to the stables is out of the question, until his next doctor's appointment. He kept trying to convince me he was up to the long walk. He's not attempting to do something he shouldn't be doing, is he?"
"Nope. He's meditating, and not moving a muscle." He opened the door that led into Devon's part of the house.
Past the door, she entered a large sitting area. The flash of red against black took her by surprise. Devon had red throw pillows, red vases, and even red braided rugs against a dark wood floor scattered around his area. She closed her mouth and blinked. The décor was opposite of what she imagined Devon would enjoy. He was quieter than the others, and always seemed deep in thought pouring through the record books every evening.
Brody pulled her into another room where houseplants took up every square inch of space. Devon stood with his back toward her. She pulled away from Brody, stepping farther into the room. Devon had created an inside jungle that made the outside of the house with all the flowers pale compared to his wing of the house.
Grow lights hung along the ceiling, and pots lined the walls. She swiveled. Vines anchored along the edge of the walls held the many trails of leaves and it wouldn't have surprised her if a butterfly or two fluttered past.
"I've never seen anything like this. It's incredible." She shook her head in amazement.
Brody ch
uckled. "It's something else, isn't it?"
Devon turned and smiled. "Good you're here. I'm in need of a woman, and you were the first one who popped into my head."
"Lucky me." She laughed. "Unless you'd like me to run around the ranch doing trivial things just to get me out of your hair. In which case, Trace thinks that's his job for me today."
"Ah…he's being an idiot again, huh?" Devon pulled her closer. "Never fear, I only need your womanly expertise."
She gazed down at the small table. "Okay."
"I need you to tell me which flower a lady would enjoy receiving the most." Devon picked up a lovely white bloom she didn't recognize.
She stepped closer and inspected each choice laid out before her. Then she leaned closer and inhaled the scents. "This one."
The deep purple star shaped blossom was the smallest out of the bunch, but the fragrance had her thinking of the aroma of Trace's hair when he'd let her braid it. She picked the flower up by the stem, turned around, and held her choice out to Devon.
"This one would impress any woman," she said.
"Damn. I was wrong." Devon scratched his head. "I thought you'd go for the red rose. I thought all women liked roses, no matter what the color."
"She didn't pick the one I would have chosen either." Brody chuckled. "I thought she'd go for the one with the huge yellow blossom."
Devon blew out his breath and gave her a half hug. "Thanks. You might have saved my life."
She grinned. Each of the men at one time or another had shown her affection, but none of them made her knees weak and her pulse thrum the way Trace did simply by being in the same room as her.
"I'm glad I could help." She backed away to the door. "Good luck, Devon. I hope she likes your surprise."
He winked. "Me too."
She walked out of Devon's part of the house and returned to the common living area. Not wanting to stay away from Trace too long in case he needed her, she went on a search to find him. Brody had said he was outside, so she checked the backyard first. He wasn't there.
She hurried through the house and out the front door. At first she didn't see him, and she turned to go back inside when she spied him leaning against his crutches at the end of the porch.
