Close Enough to Touch

CHAPTER FIVE

OR MAYBE NOT.

She walked around town for a while, avoiding the tourist area for streets lined with lower-end shops, hoping to find a used sporting-goods store where she could buy a cot. Though she finally found a store, apparently used camping gear was in hot demand here in the summer, just outside the boundaries of Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. The only cot she’d found had been way over her ten-dollar budget.

In the end, she left with a cheap camouflage sleeping bag more suited for sleepovers than outdoor use. Fine with her. She just needed a little padding between her and the floor.

When she got her first paycheck, maybe she’d come back for the air mattress she’d spotted. Maybe even a folding chair. But nothing else she wouldn’t be able to take to Vancouver when she left.

By the time she’d stopped at a grocery store for bread and peanut butter and walked all the way back to her apartment, it was after three. And the saloon next door was already hopping. Grace dropped her bags in the apartment and walked over to thank Jenny.

Before she got down the front steps, the tones of an unfamiliar ringer cut through the air. She frowned for a moment before realizing that it was her own cheapo prepaid phone and dug it from her bag.

“Hello?” she asked with obvious suspicion.

“Grace! Oh, my God, we haven’t talked in almost a week. Are you in Wyoming? Do you have any minutes left?”

Grace smiled as the voice of her best friend traveled from a satellite and made her sound like she was standing right there. “Merry,” she said in utter relief. “Yeah, I’ve got minutes. What’s up, chick?”

“What’s up? Oh, my God, tell me what’s going on! The last time I talked to you, you had some sort of plan to go be a mountain man or something. And I haven’t been able to get through since!”

“It’s this phone,” she said, which was only partly true. Mostly, she’d been avoiding her best friend. “I have to keep it off or the battery dies. I’m sorry. Everything’s good. I’m in Jackson. It’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful? Really? Where’s Grace Barrett and what have you done with her?”

“Ha. Yes, the mountains are pretty, the people are friendly in an almost noncreepy way, and I just got a job.”

Merry squealed. “I’m so glad! You actually sound happy!”

“Bite your tongue. But happy or not, it’s really still me. I plan to ditch this joint in a month or so.”

“Are you coming to Dallas? Please tell me you’re coming to Dallas.”

“Merry, we’ve discussed this. Texas is not the place for me.”

“Oh, my God, you’re in Wyoming, for godssake! And you love it, apparently. How can you dismiss Texas?”

“I don’t love it,” Grace insisted. “I just have a free place to stay. So stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Merry said, very obviously pouting.

“You are, but it’s cute.”

“I just don’t understand why you couldn’t come live with me.”

“I need to be in Vancouver in a few weeks,” Grace explained. “Texas is a little out of the way. Listen, I should go—”

“No! You haven’t told me anything!”

Grace winced in guilt.

“Please tell me what happened. You were trying to get organized so you could get work at L.A. Fashion Week. Then all of a sudden you were leaving town.”

“Nothing happened,” she lied. “I lined up this job in Vancouver and then my aunt offered me the apartment, so I decided there was no point hanging around L.A. That’s it.”

“Grace.” Her flat voice made Grace’s throat burn with shame. Merry knew it was a lie, but Grace couldn’t tell her the truth. She just couldn’t.

“I’m good,” Grace said. “Really good.” That might be an exaggeration, but she embraced it. “In fact, I’m on my way to a saloon to celebrate the new job.”

That distracted Merry, as Grace had known it would. Merry loved shiny things, and a saloon was awfully shiny. “What?” she chirped. “A saloon? You’re lying!”

“I’m not. It’s literally next door to my apartment. There are cowboys in it.”

“In your apartment?”

She laughed. “No, not at the moment.”

Merry missed that little hint, and Grace couldn’t help but grin. If she knew Grace’s new neighbor was a sexy hot cowboy with thighs of steel, Merry would squeal loud enough to break the cheap phone. Grace was going to save that little tidbit for a day when she needed cheering up. Merry’s joy was medicine for Grace. Something she needed to take like a vitamin when she was feeling low.

“All right,” Merry huffed. “Go flirt with some cute cowboys for me. But call me soon, okay? I miss you.”

Grace was smiling as she hung up. Merry had wanted Grace to stay with her, but Grace had stayed with her twice when they’d both lived in L.A. Accepting help once was too much. Twice was unbearable. A third time? No. Never. She’d rather sleep in the bus station.

In fact, she had slept in the bus station. But only for one night. Before that, she’d managed to find an old friend who’d owed her a favor. Unfortunately, staying at his place had been the worst mistake of all. He’d had an insane party, and someone had stolen her purse and everything in it, including Scott’s money.

Why the hell had she taken it? She should’ve just walked away with the lie that he didn’t owe her anything.

She’d really screwed herself over now. But she couldn’t tell Merry this time. At some point, Merry would decide Grace was a loser with too many problems who needed to be ditched.

Merry didn’t need someone like Grace hanging around, after all. Her name actually matched her personality. She was sweet and happy and kind. And a little awkward in a cute way. But for some reason, she loved Grace. In fact, aside from Grandma Rose, Merry was the only person in the world who loved her, and Grace would be damned if she’d ever do anything to damage that. Ever.

Grace tucked her phone away and walked over to the saloon. She didn’t plan on having a drink. But Jenny offered her a celebratory shot of tequila. And then a beer on the house.

“I can’t,” Grace protested.

“Come on. It’s not every day I find someone a job.”

Grace started to shake her head.

“And it annoys the hell out of Rayleen when I give away beer.”

“Well, in that case.”

Jenny laughed and slid her a beer. “I’m so happy for you.”

“You don’t even know me!” Grace said, shaking her head in exasperation.

“Of course I do. You’re Rayleen’s grandniece, Grace.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said, but she took the beer. “Thank you. Really.”

“Maybe sometime you can teach me how to do my makeup.”

“Your makeup is fine.”

“I never know what to do with my eyes,” she said. “My eyelids are fat, and now that I’m getting older, they just look puffy.”

Grace laughed and shook her head, but it was the kind of thing she heard all the time. A lot of women felt helpless about makeup. “Let me know when you want some tips.”

“I will. I feel self-conscious around you!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Grace said, and she meant it. She was the one who always felt self-conscious. Not about her looks. She wasn’t pretty, but she didn’t mind. She did what she could to make sure people knew who she was before they even approached her. She wanted them to know that she wasn’t like other girls, so they wouldn’t be surprised by that. She wasn’t soft or sweet or comforting, especially these days. She didn’t know how to be taken care of, much less how to take care of others. She took care of herself. She always had.

No matter what the cost, apparently.

When her thoughts veered back to L.A., Grace gulped down half her beer. She didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to, but how could she avoid it?

The truths she’d known about herself, the few things she’d been proud of… She’d thrown all that away.

No, that wasn’t right. She hadn’t even been strong enough to throw them away. She’d just dropped them, let them scatter in the wind. Her pride, her strength, the weapons she’d armed herself with every single day of her life. All the success she’d carved out of this world through blood, sweat and tears—she’d given that up.

Grace Barrett, a girl who’d never needed anyone…she’d let herself need him.

The worst part was, she’d be in the exact same place right now if she’d left him on her own terms. She’d have nothing and no one, just as she did now. But she’d also have her pride. And everything she’d ever believed about herself.

She’d have that.

Now she had less than nothing. Now she didn’t even know who she was. She certainly wasn’t the tough, kick-ass girl who wouldn’t take shit from anyone. She’d taken plenty of shit from Scott. She’d put her head down and kept her mouth shut, and she’d taken it. And on top of everything, she’d been reduced to living on the edge again. Just like when she’d been sixteen.

One stupid mistake on top of all those others, and ten years of progress had vanished in a snap.

Fuck.

Her beer wasn’t quite finished, but Grace was. She stood, meaning to rush out, but as she turned, her head swam as though the floor was tilting beneath her. “Oh,” she breathed, reaching toward the large shoulder that entered her blurry vision.

“Careful, darlin’,” a deep voice said.

“Sorry. I…” She blinked and her vision cleared. And there was Cole, smiling at her, his eyes shaded by an honest-to-goodness cowboy hat. Or maybe all cowboys looked alike.

“Grace? You okay?”

Yeah, it was definitely him. She jerked her hand away and stood straight. “I’m fine.”

“More than fine, I’d say.”

“I’m not drunk! I only had one beer.” And a tequila shot.

“It’s the altitude. You’ve got to be careful.”

“I’m fine,” she protested, even though she wasn’t sure. She did feel awfully tipsy. Maybe it was the altitude. Or maybe it was that she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Or had a drink in weeks.

Damn. She was drunk.

“You look great,” Cole said, his eyes traveling quickly down her body.

She was suddenly glad she was wearing her heeled boots. They gave her four extra inches of leg. But what did that matter? She wasn’t trying to impress this man.

Then she had a sudden flashback to that morning. To looking at herself in the mirror and seeing the mascara under her eyes and her hair standing up in clumps. Oh, my God. “This morning,” she stammered. “I didn’t realize…”

A man cleared his throat from somewhere close by. “This morning, huh?” he said.

She shot a glare at the man who now stood at Cole’s shoulder. His mouth was serious, but his eyes tilted up a little in subtle amusement. She was opening her mouth to tell him to fuck off, when Cole interrupted.

“Grace, this is Shane. He lives upstairs. Shane, this is Grace. Our new neighbor.”

“Oh!” His brown eyes widened. “Pleased to meet you. I heard there was a woman amongst us. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, still prepared not to like him.

Cole elbowed his friend. Hard. “Apologize. You pissed her off with your stupid attempt to be funny.”

“Sorry,” Shane said, touching the brim of his hat. “I’m an idiot.”

He grimaced so sincerely that Grace almost laughed. Almost. But she didn’t want him to think he was off the hook.

“So what were you saying about this morning?” Cole continued. “Something about how the breakfast was spectacular, but the company far surpassed it?”

“No, I…” She looked from him to his friend and narrowed her eyes.

Shane put up his hands. “All right, I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll be over here. Out of firing range.”

She watched him walk away, and suddenly Cole’s voice was in her ear. “I think he’s scared of you.”

She turned and felt his chin brush her hair before he drew back. “He should be scared of me. So should you.”

“Yeah? How come? The purple hair?” He carefully reached up and rubbed a lock of her hair between his thumb and finger, then withdrew before she could knock his hand away.

“No.”

“The black suede pants?”

“They’re not suede, they’re just brushed to look… No. Not that either.”

He leaned closer again, and she felt very alone with him beneath the shadow of his hat. “Is it the way you look like you could punch me and enjoy it? Or the way your dark eyes get even darker when you’re really mad?”

Grace inhaled sharply at the husky appreciation in his words. She thought she might have swayed closer and hoped it was only the beer affecting her vision. “No, I…I just meant that if you weren’t nice I’d come by and hang out in the morning again.”

“And why would I be scared of that, Miss Grace?”

Yeah, his voice was definitely husky. And she was definitely swaying. Damn those drinks. She cleared her throat and stood as straight as she could. “You should be scared because of how I looked this morning.”

“You looked fine. Cute.”

“Cute? You’ve got to be fu—”

“Cole!” Jenny’s voice called from behind her. “You look tired. Want the usual, babe?”

“Thanks, Jenny,” he said, his smile widening when he looked past Grace’s shoulder. It was just the moment she needed to escape the pull of his low voice and warm smile. And the intimacy of looking up at him under the shadow of his hat. Secret cowboy trick, probably.

Had she actually been succumbing to the flirtations of a cowboy? Wow. Altitude, indeed.

She steeled her spine. “Anyway, I’ll see you around, all right?”

“Hey, where are you going? I was about to buy you a drink.”

“After you just warned me to take it easy?”

A moment of male confusion flashed over his face, but he recovered quickly. “A soda then. Or just some water. It’s important to drink lots of water here or you’ll get headaches.”

“Thanks, but I was going to buy myself a glass of water back at my apartment. Maybe see if I get lucky. Afternoon, cowboy.” She touched a hand to an imaginary hat, mimicking the movement she’d found so amusing yesterday.

As she walked away, she was aware of his eyes on her. She knew he was watching. She knew it because he’d noticed her boots and the soft fabric of her black jeans within moments of saying hello. What she didn’t know, what she couldn’t even begin to comprehend, was why the knowledge of his eyes on her filled her chest with such a hot burn of satisfaction.

* * *

“WELL, NOW,” SHANE drawled when he stepped up to join Cole at the bar. “Somebody likes playing with fire.”

Cole took a swig from his waiting beer and shot a look at the saloon door that had just closed behind Grace. “I’m not playing with anything.”

“Oh, but you’d like to. By the way, you’ve got a little drool on your chin. Might want to wipe that off.”

Cole rolled his eyes.

“You really like that girl? She looks kind of tough.”

“She is tough,” he said, smiling at the memory of her kicking the shit out of her own bag.

“She looks like she could cut my balls off without flinching.”

“As long as it’s your balls she’s cutting and not mine, she can amuse herself any way she likes.”

Shane shook his head. “To each his own, brother. I’m just saying there are plenty of nice girls around here who you don’t have to wear a cup around. That woman looks like trouble.”

Hell, yeah, she looked like trouble. Cole’s eyes skimmed over the room, taking in only vague impressions of the women at the tables. They all looked so dull. Nice, yes. And normal. Blondes and brunettes and the occasional redhead. Not a strand of purple among them. No smoky-black eyeliner that made them look dangerous and vulnerable all at the same time. No black and gray and blue outfits that covered everything but somehow looked sexy as hell.

Yeah, Grace looked tough. Which had made it that much sweeter when her black-brown eyes had softened for a moment. When she’d looked up at him and swayed the tiniest bit closer. Her lips had parted as if she’d needed more room to draw a breath.

Cole cleared his throat and shifted on the barstool, wondering if he really did have drool on his chin, because his mouth was sure as hell watering. He downed his beer and signaled for another. Jenny winked and grabbed another mug.

“What do you hear about Grace?” he asked when she brought his second beer.

“Cole Rawlins, are you fishing for information about another woman from your ex-girlfriend? Don’t you think that’s a little rude?”

He smiled at her mock outrage. “We dated for all of two minutes. Now, spill it.”

“Grace, huh?” Her eyes sparkled. “She doesn’t exactly seem like your type, Cole.”

“No?” He didn’t bother correcting her. He wasn’t sure he had a type, but girls like Grace just pushed his buttons. Or they’d pushed the hell out of his buttons thirteen years ago. As often as he’d been able to talk them into it.

“She just got into town yesterday, but you know that already, right?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s Rayleen’s niece from L.A. A makeup artist.”

That got his attention. Maybe she was part of the film industry after all. Shit. “A makeup artist? Like special effects and stuff? In the movies?”

Jenny frowned. “No, I think the kind that make women beautiful. Maybe she worked with models? She just got a job with Eve Hill, and I don’t think Eve would have any demand for zombie makeup.”

Cole felt a warm wash of relief. She wasn’t with a film crew. She wasn’t part of that world.

And no wonder she’d been so embarrassed about her smeared makeup that morning. He’d have to tease her about it now. See if he could get a rise out of her.

He chuckled at the thought. Not if he could get a rise out of her, but just how pissed off he could make her.

“Cole?” Jenny said softly. “You’re smiling to yourself. You really like this girl?”

“Hardly know her,” he responded.

“Yeah,” she huffed. “And that usually deters men, right? How’s your leg?”

He pressed his hand to his thigh automatically, then realized he hadn’t thought about it once since the moment he’d seen Grace sitting at the bar. He hadn’t even thought about it when he’d taken a seat, and usually he had to concentrate on not wincing. “Great,” he answered, telling the lie he always told.

“Back to normal?”

“Just about.”

“Well, you look tired.”

Truth be told, he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in nine months. His leg and hip throbbed every time he closed his eyes. “I’m back at the ranch now.”

“Speaking of…” Jenny said, raising her chin toward the door.

Cole turned and narrowed his eyes against the daylight. The shaft of light narrowed as the door closed, and Easy was walking toward him. Though the man was only sixty-five, he looked closer to seventy. He was still lean and wiry, but all those years under the open sky had weathered his skin and turned his crew cut silvery-blond. His pale eyes locked on Cole and he glared.

“Were you out at the ranch today?” he demanded.

Ah, shit. Cole stood up and set his beer on the bar. He wouldn’t lie to Easy, so he kept his mouth shut and crossed his arms.

“Damn it, Cole! You know what the doctor said.”

Quiet fell around them. Cole tipped his head. “Let’s talk outside.”

“We’re not talking about anything. Come in on Tuesday. You’re taking Monday off.”

“Goddamn it,” Cole snarled. “I can handle it. I’m doing fine.”

“What you’re doing is fooling yourself. But you’re not fooling me. If you don’t do what—”

“I get that, all right? I’m not a child, Easy. Let me do it the way I need to.”

“Tuesday,” Easy said. “And if it happens again, I’ll do the same thing.”

Christ. This was outrageous. Easy walked away, though he paused to tip his hat to Rayleen on the way out. Cole glared, but he let Easy go without cursing him out for being a mother hen instead of a ranch boss.

Easy cared about him. He knew that. But Cole knew his body and what he could handle. Sure, his thigh hurt. And now his back and his hip, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Lounge around in bed? It all hurt there, too. May as well make himself useful. And he needed to get back in shape. Quick.

He had insurance that had paid for the surgery and hospitalization. But half the physical therapy was coming out of his pocket. Not to mention rent and food and drugs. He had the money to cover it, but that money was supposed to be locked up in a safe for the day he bought Easy’s ranch. He’d finally saved up enough, but every month out of work was one step backward. Cole wanted to be ready the moment Easy said he was ready to sell.

If his leg hadn’t quite healed yet, it could heal on the job. Hell, how many old cowboys did he know who limped around for forty years? Easy himself was a damned pile of old breaks and busted-up joints, and he could barely sit in a saddle for an hour. That was the way it went for old cowboys.