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nightstand—10:16 a.m. Okay, this was a ranch and she knew people had work to do but really, did they have to be so loud?
    Her problem could be solved if she just got up and checked the windows. It seemed a simple fix until she tried to swing her legs off the side of the bed. They felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds each. So did her head. She wasn’t the least hungover, even though it felt that way. After work she and Sadie’d had one lousy shot. That was it. And Nikki doubted she would’ve had anything to drink if Trace had come to the bar last night.
    That got her heart pumping faster and her eyes fully open.
    Okay, maybe she was coming out of a blackout because that was the stupidest thought ever. She glanced around her room, spotted her phone where she’d left it to charge on the massive dresser and forced her feet to the floor. She had to squint at the screen in order to focus on the date. Yep, it was Saturday. Last time she’d seen Trace was Thursday when the blonde had chased after him.
    Come to think of it, Nikki hadn’t seen the woman last night, either. Only the friend she’d come with two nights earlier. Which probably meant that she and Trace were...
    No. She didn’t care what Trace was doing. She didn’t. Thinking about him at all would make her a fool. Or maybe it was a form of therapy...or avoidance...transference...something like that. She couldn’t think about Trace and Wallace at the same time. If she tried, Trace won.
    Sometimes she missed the rinky-dink Houston community college that had been close enough to work that she could walk.
    She’d loved studying psychology until she learned how much schooling it took to actually get a useful degree. It could’ve been fun and challenging but she was nothing if not realistic. Higher education required money. And that was something she’d never have to spare.
    She set the phone down, lingering to touch the smooth oak.
    Matt said the hand-carved dresser had been in the family for over a hundred years. She wondered if that meant it was an antique. Or just old. She never could figure out the difference. One thing she knew for sure, the obnoxiously big mirror mounted on the back was newer and really had to go if she stayed much longer.
    Staring at the dark smudges under her eyes because she’d been too lazy to remove her makeup was not how she wanted to wake up. Her hair was a mess. She’d worn it in a ponytail last night rather than iron out the two stubborn kinks that had appeared as it dried on its own. And oh, yeah, they were still there.
    Hearing voices, she turned to the window. She’d meant to close it when she got up. Now she could swear she heard Trace.
    But he wouldn’t be here. He had too much to do at the Sundance, and besides, she doubted he’d step foot on Lone Wolf property. Not as long as Wallace owned it.
    She shoved the curtain aside and yanked the cord to raise the closed blinds. Matt and Trace stood near the walkway below, talking, but her impatience with the blinds drew their attention.
    Trace tipped his head back, and with his forefinger, pushed up the brim of his Stetson. With the sun shining on his tanned face, his green eyes seemed to sparkle. “Morning, sunshine,” he said, his mouth curving in a grin.
    Nikki knew exactly what she looked like and her first instinct was to jump back and jerk the curtain closed. But giving in would only tell him she cared how he saw her. And that was so much worse. “God, can you be any louder? Some of us have to work at night.”
    “Have to?” Matt lifted an eyebrow at her. Apparently he wasn’t in the best mood. He hated that she worked at the Watering Hole instead of adjusting to the ranch, though lately he hadn’t said much. “I’m pretty sure you could’ve gone to sleep earlier than four.”
    Her heart sank. If he knew when she’d turned off her lamp, that probably meant he’d been up with Wallace. In fact, Matt looked drawn and tired. She was the worst sister in the whole