Healing Trace (5 page)

"I
didn't do it alone. We couldn't have done this without each other. The old
adage of it takes a village is true." Trace clasped his hands together
behind his head and scooted down in the chair.

"It
must be nice to have your friends with you. You've got a permanent family to
help you and each of you have a built in support team." She gazed out over
the land. "A lot of people would be envious of the bond you have with the
other guys."

A
sadness that wasn't there earlier had settled around her, and she slouched on
the step. Trace grew more curious. What would one question hurt?'

"You
must have the same support system with your family." Since learning more
about Joan kept his mind off the pressure in his leg building, he continued to
converse with her. He'd never seen her without a smile on her face before, and
for some reason her sadness bothered him.

He
liked the way her hair swished around her head when she laughed, and in extreme
cases covered her mouth when a chortle slipped out. The shadows he recognized
on her face now, bothered him.

"No.
My sister lives in Bismarck and my dad passed away from a heart attack ten
months," she whispered. "My mom died a long time ago, I barely
remember her. So, it's just me."

"I'm
sorry," he said.

She
smiled softly at him and took a deep breath. "It's okay. What doesn't
break us makes us stronger, right?"

 Trace
put his leg down and planned to get up, change the topic, or distract her from
how he'd invaded her privacy but by the time he got into position, Brody rode
into the yard.

"What
a beautiful morning." Brody stopped Red Moon and grinned. "I don't
think I've ever seen such a pretty woman sitting on our porch before. Have you,
Trace?"

Trace's
head jerked up but before he could respond, Joan walked down the steps toward
Brody.

"Trace
is keeping me company, while I got to check out your beautiful yard. It's
gorgeous around here," she said, all her attention shifted to Brody.

Brody
lifted his brows at Trace. "Hm. Isn't that nice of him?"

"Yes,
it is. I'm a nice guy when I don't have people around me." Trace hobbled
to the railing. "What do you want?"

He
wanted Brody to know he didn't need any help with Joan. He'd always done things
his way and right now, he wanted Brody to ride off the property and let him
regain the connection he had with Joan before he'd shown up.

"Nothing.
I saw Joan and thought maybe you were asleep." Brody crossed his wrists over
the saddle horn and winked. "Guess you're feeling better."

"I
was. Now it's time for me to go back in. I've pushed my limit." He turned,
managed to get the door open on his own, and hobbled inside.

He
had an unexplainable urge to deck Brody. Joan was here to take care of him, not
paid to put up with Brody's flirting.

"Joan!"
He stopped in the foyer, knowing she'd hear him. "Where are the damn pain
pills?"

Chapter Five

The
warm, wet washcloth slid between Trace's toes. Joan clamped her lips together,
but she couldn't stop the way her body quivered with pent up laughter. Every
time she pulled the rag back and forth to clean the end of Trace's exposed foot
below the cast, he grunted and almost came up off the couch.

She
never expected such a tough man to fall apart having his feet touched. Washing
his pinky toe, Joan peeked up at Trace. He didn't appear fierce and non-feeling
now. With his eyes squeezed tight, the bridge of his nose wrinkled, and his
lips puckered as if he had eaten a lemon, the hard mask he always wore slipped
off his face. She removed the washcloth and dropped it in the bucket of soapy
water.

Trace's
shoulders slumped and he opened his eyes. "That was cruel."

She
laughed. "No. That's payback."

Patting
his toes dry with a towel, she checked to make sure there were no more swelling
or tender spots around his foot and the cotton cloth still covered the edges of
the fiberglass cast. He was doing remarkably well and never complained outright
about any pain.

"Have
I been that hard to take care of this week?" He frowned.

"It's
understandable. You were in pain and upset about being laid up." She
shrugged. "Even I would be grouchy if I wasn't able to move around when I
wanted."

He
leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "It's hard to stay
down. I have work to do and deadlines to meet. Even staying cooped up in the
house drives me crazy. I'm not much for sitting around and doing nothing."

"I
understand." She stood and picked up the tub of water. "Let me go
dump this and throw the rags in the laundry basket, and I'll be right
back."

The
laundry room also served as the mudroom, and the guys had saddles, boots, and
other miscellaneous items stored nearby that they used outside. Joan rinsed out
the bucket, set it underneath the sink, and rung out the rags. Trace needed
something to do besides stare at four walls all day long.

For
someone who made his living outdoors and being active, it was no wonder he was
bored and on edge. If she knew more about the kinds of things that he enjoyed
doing in his free time, maybe she could entertain him. She switched off the
light, and accidently knocked something off one of the hooks lining the wall.
Flipping the switch back on, she found a rope with a clip on the end lying on
the floor. She hung the piece back on the wall, and paused.

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."