Brash (15 page)

“How did you get so good at this?” Cole demanded when Grace sent another dart straight into the target.

“Single woman after work at the Bull's Eye,” she explained. “Lot of time on my hands.”

Cole didn't believe her. “Really.”

“Or maybe it was summer camp.” She looked confused, then shrugged. “Either way, I'm clearly gifted.”

Cole laughed. He was doing a lot of that these days. Didn't go hand in hand with his fists, feet, and fight mentality, but it changed something inside him. Something he'd never known he was missing. He followed her over to the booth she'd claimed earlier and slipped in beside her.

“You know this was the booth you and Rev were sittin' in that night I saw you?” he told her.

“That was clearly not one of my lonely after-work single nights.”

She was kidding around, and normally he would've followed her there just as he'd followed her into the booth. But after what they'd shared today—both in her pink bed and out—he just couldn't get there.

He sat back against the fake leather. “Seriously, Doc. What's up with you two?”

Her humor waned. “We're friends,” she said evenly.

“Like you and me are friends?” he pressed.

Her cheeks turned pink and she glanced around the room nervously. “I am really thirsty after my incredible win. And hungry too. A ton of calories lost tonight, Cavanaugh.”

“Grace—”

“What say we both order turkey burgers and ice water?”

“There a reason why you're avoiding this question? It's real simple. You like him or you don't.”

She sighed. “Well, of course I like him. He's a man of the cloth.”

“I think that's a Catholic thing.”

“Whatever. Do I like him? Yes. Do I go on dates with him sometimes? Yes. He's a good man. Stable. Kind. Wants things I want.” She stopped, realizing what she'd said. Maybe hadn't meant to say.

“And what's that?” Cole asked her, feeling every muscle in his body go rigid. “What do you want, Grace?”

Once again she glanced out at the crowd. When she turned back, she put her elbows on the table and let her chin rest on her palms. “I want to be happy. I want to be loved. I want someone to grow old and cranky and sexually bored with.”

When that last bit registered, Cole laughed. “You don't want that.”

“I actually do. I mean, I'm hoping the bored thing happens when we're both ancient and drooling on the lapels of our housecoats. But I want it. Here in River Black. I didn't get a chance to really set down roots here. I have that chance now.”

Cole frowned. River Black. Just like Deac had said. Of course she wanted to stay here, live here. Why wouldn't she? She had a life, work, friends. A home.

You could have those things,
a voice whispered in his ear.
Don't have to fight anymore.
No more battles. Only win after win after win—starting with her.

No.
That's not in the cards for me
. Home and the love of a good woman.
No. I don't get the happy ending, because Cass didn't get one. Period. End of story. Fight. Goes. On.

“So, you planning on Rev being the one?” he said. “The one who buys you that housecoat and drools beside you?”

The bitter edge in his tone wasn't lost on Grace as he said this. She stared hard at him. “Why are you asking me this? Pressing this? And with so much anger.”

“There's no anger,” he lied.

“Do you not want me to date Wayne anymore?”

Of course he didn't. He didn't want her anywhere near him, or any man. But how could he ask that? How could he even suggest it? When he was unable—no, unwilling—to give that to her?

“I'm sorry I brought it up,” he grumbled, his chest tight. Jaw too. “I'm gonna head up to the bar and put our order in.”

“I can do that. Or we can wait for a server.”

“This'll be quicker.” He slipped out of the booth. “I know how hungry you are.”
And I know I need a minute. Get my shit together. Get my head together.
“Turkey burger, right?”

“Yes. With cheese.”

“Anything else?”

“Can I have some fries?”

He couldn't stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. “You can have anything you want, Doc.”

Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. It was all Cole saw before he turned away and headed for the bar. As he maneuvered through the noisy Sunday night crowd, he knew he needed to back off this possessive track he was on with her. She didn't belong to him. Not that she needed to belong to Wayne either.

He groaned. He was hopeless.

His ass started to buzz just as he came up to the bar, and he grabbed his phone out of his pocket. He recognized the number glowing up at him as Deacon's cell.

He stabbed the green call button. “We're having some dinner,” he said instead of a hello. “Can I call you back later? Nothing much to report about the visit with Sheriff—”

“Cole!” Deacon broke in harshly. “Oh, fuck . . .”

Just the weight in his brother's voice had his heart dropping into his stones. “Is it James?”

“No. He's fine.” There was a heavy exhalation. Then, “It's Caleb Palmer.”

Cole's gut started to churn. “He's out, ain't he?”

“Worse.”

“Shit. What's worse than that?”

“He's dead.”

*   *   *

Grace picked at the cold turkey burger she'd brought from the Bull's Eye to the kitchen of the Triple C. It was the meeting place the brothers had all decided on, since James and Sheridan were staying there and Mac was working there.

Everyone except James was seated around the massive table drinking coffee or beer, supplied by a concerned-looking Elena Perez. Grace didn't know the dark-haired woman all that well. She'd seen her in town a few times. And she knew she was Blue's mother, and about the scandal of Blue
being Everett Cavanaugh's son. But Grace had the feeling there was tension in the house around her. The woman was trying real hard to take care of everybody, yet she looked very uncomfortable and self-conscious while doing it.

“He had a heart attack in his cell,” Deacon informed them. He had a beer in one hand and was rubbing Mac's shoulders with the other.

“Are they sure?” James countered, his gaze flickering to the table, where Sheridan sat, her face pale.

Cole looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

The man shrugged. “I mean, besides Grace's fruitless conversation with him, did someone else get in there somehow and kill the bastard so he couldn't talk tomorrow?”

“Talk about what?” Grace asked. She still couldn't believe the man she'd sat across from not one day ago was dead.

“Anything he might know about Cass's death,” Deacon supplied as Cole gave her a tight smile.

He was sitting across from her, tense but oddly protective. Every time she looked his way, she caught him staring at her.

A plate was set before her. Meat loaf and mashed potatoes. Steamy and making her mouth water. “I can't sit here and watch you eat that cold lump,” Elena said. “Please . . .”

“Oh, thank you,” Grace stuttered. “You didn't have to—”

“Oh, yes, I did,” Elena fired back before returning to the stove.

Grace got the feeling the woman was very pleased to have the entire family there in the kitchen, no matter how on edge she was.

“Well, it seems we're back to square one,” James said. “Unless . . .” He looked at Grace questioningly. “Anything from your dad—”

“No,” Cole said quickly, almost snappishly. “Nothing to report.”

“What's wrong with you?” James ground out.

Cole's eyes were on Grace. “Nothing. Just pissed about Palmer, is all.”

“Can't say I'm all that broken up about it,” Sheridan put in. Though her face was pale, her voice was strong, resolute.

“I hear they're having the funeral tomorrow night,” Mac said, sipping her beer.

“Who the hell's gonna go to that?” James said with a snort of disgust.

“I say we all go,” came a new voice.

They all looked up. Blue Cavanaugh was standing in the doorway. He wore his cowboy duds, caked with both dust and mud. His handsome face was tan and sharp angled, making his vivid blue eyes stand out. One thing was true, Grace mused: the Cavanaugh brothers—though very different in their appearances—were all gorgeous as hell.

He shrugged, didn't seem bothered by their
hard, curious stares. “The Cavanaugh family should put in an appearance, is all I'm saying.”

“Why?” Cole asked tightly. “That asshole tried to kill one of our own.”

Grace glanced at Sheridan. The woman nodded. “Can't argue with that logic. I won't be paying him any respects. But I will be sleeping better tonight.”

“Oh, baby,” James said with a look of love so deep and true the whole room felt it.

“I think everyone can make that decision for themselves,” Deacon put in. “But there might be something to learn there.” He shrugged. “Palmer's wife and daughter might not be so closed off in that environment. Grief has a way of getting people to drop their defenses.”

Grace's stomach started to churn and she pushed her plate away a few inches. Granted, she'd come to despise Caleb Palmer and wanted him to never see the light of day. But the way Deacon was talking, the way Blue was talking, and James—it was disrespectful and inappropriate, and not something she wanted to be a part of. It had been one hell of a day and she was beat.

As if sensing her mood, Cole pushed back his chair. “It's time we went home. Doc?”

Every member of the Cavanaugh clan stopped and turned to look at him. For a moment, Grace didn't understand what the problem was. But then she got it. Those expressions—especially the
ones on his brothers' faces—told the whole tale. Hotel-living player and fighter had used the words “we” and “home.” She wondered if they'd ever heard that out of him before. She guessed not. No doubt it was, even now, echoing through their minds like a puzzle they weren't sure how to piece together.

But Cole wasn't one to stick around and explain. In fact, he didn't acknowledge any of them. Not until he came around the table and reached for her hand. Not until she gave it to him.

“Grace has had a long day,” he said, then released a weighty breath. “Shit, we all have. Boy, things keep changing.” He looked at each one of them in turn. Even Blue, who was still camped out in the doorway. “But at some point this merry-go-round is going to creak to a stop and each one of us is going to have to decide to stay on or get off. Whether the truth is revealed or stays buried with Cass.”

No one said a word as he led Grace out of the room and out of the house.

May 9, 2002

Dear Diary,

Mom almost found out about my sneaking out at night to meet Sweet. She was coming downstairs for something from the kitchen and I was coming in the back door. She thought I was a wild animal.

She locked the door!!

I spent the rest of the night in the barn. All the animals had gas and I wanted to cry. But at least I was with Sweet beforehand. I think he's going to ask me to be his girlfriend. We sure kiss enough.

Well, someone is still following us. I know it. I can feeeeeel it. It freaks me out. 'Course, I still can't tell Mac about it. I just don't want to get her in trouble or me in trouble. But guess what? Someone else is helping me. I didn't think I could trust anyone with my secret. But sometimes you have to trust. Anyway, now I have a lookout when me and Sweet are together.

Maybe we'll get married someday.

Mr. and Mrs. Felthouse.

Mr. and Mrs. Sweet.

Don't know which I like best.

Gotta go to school. I'm sooooo tired.

Zzzzzzz,

Cass

“What are you doing in there?” Grace called through the door.

Cole glanced around the bathroom. Was this bullshit? Or had he actually pulled something off here? He didn't know. He was going on instinct, not experience.

“Keep your underwear on, woman,” he called out. “Oh, wait. It's still in my pocket.”

“Not funny.”

He grinned. “C'mon now. It's a little funny.”

“Seriously, what's happening in th—”

Cole cut off her words by opening the door. She was right there, waiting, hovering, her brow furrowed.

“Going through my medicine cabinet, Cole?” she asked wryly.

His grin widened. “Honey, you're going to feel
real bad for sayin' that in a second. Or real good, depending on how you see things.”

He stepped aside so she could see what he meant, and her mouth promptly dropped open.
That's right, Doc
. Slowly, she walked inside the dimly lit bathroom. Took in the bubbles, the steaming water, the two cherry-scented candles he'd found under the sink. Granted, it wasn't the Ritz or anything, but it was nice.

“You drew me a bath,” she whispered, her back to him.

Ah, Christ,
Cole thought, cringing. Was it his imagination or did she sound on the verge of tears again? Why the hell did he try things he knew nothing about? Maybe she hated baths. Maybe sitting in a vat of hot water disgusted her. Shit, who knew? Whatever it was, he had to get out of it. He could say it was for him . . .

“You drew me a bath,” she repeated. Then she turned around to face him.

Relief rushed through Cole. No tears, though she looked a little weary. And from the day she'd had, who could blame her? But in her green eyes true appreciation glowed. She didn't just like the bath setup, she was slightly awed by it.

“I thought you could use some pampering,” he said.

“I could,” she agreed, her gaze moving over his face until she connected with his eyes again. “I really could. This was so thoughtful of you.”

Okay. Why'd she sound so surprised? He wasn't a total cretin. Granted, he'd always used the bathtub in his hotel as a superlarge ice bucket for parties after his fights. But this was much better. And he was glad he hadn't screwed it up.

“It was nothing,” he said, his voice rough. “So I'll step out. Give you some time, and maybe give Belle some time. I think she's pissed at me. Thinks I'm neglecting her.”

“No.” The single word snagged Cole's attention.

“I'm serious, Grace. She gives me the evil eye every time I walk past her. 'Course that could just be the basset hound thing—”

“I meant no to your leaving,” she said, her eyes soft.

Oh. Damn
.

Not leaving the bathroom. Her in the tub. “Oh, Doc. I can't get in the water with you.” Just saying the words made his chest tight and his lower half start having ideas.

“I know,” she said. “But if you can handle it, I'd love to have you stay in here with me. Talk. Hang out.”

Cruel and inhuman punishment is what that sounded like. He laughed. He didn't know if he could handle it. But denying this woman anything was just a superpower he lacked. “You sure? You don't want to relax or de-stress or whatever?”

Her brows lifted and she smiled. “Did you just say de-stress?”

He shrugged. “I know things, Doc. Hear things. Read crappy magazines when I'm waiting on my takeout.”

She laughed. “So you'll stay?”

He sighed. “If you'll explain things to Belle.”

“Don't worry. She's very understanding.” With deft hands, she started to undress. “I'll make sure she gets a few cookies in her system before I tell her.”

Cole sat down on the floor, his back against the wall. Best not to get too close. It was strange. Both from her angle and his. In his life, he'd seen women naked more than he cared to admit, but he felt inexplicably shy about seeing Grace. Like he didn't deserve it, or some shit like that. But that was right. That was his whole goddamn issue. What he deserved. What he didn't. The list got longer every day.

When he heard water splashing, he looked up. Seated inside the tub, surrounded by a sea of pale pink bubbles, was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Truly, she was a stunner, her creamy skin glowing in the candlelight, her eyes on him. They were so bright, so green, and so confused and curious.

“You looked away when I got undressed,” she stated.

Ah, hell.
Did she have to? Have to make him explain? Always said whatever was on her mind. He liked that about her. But sorta hated it too. A grin split his features.

“Believe me, Doc,” he said finally. “I'm as confused by it as you. It wasn't for lack of wanting to—I can tell you that.” He stretched his legs out, crossed his arms over his chest. “Water okay? Not too hot?”

Her eyes softened and she shook her head. “You keep doing these nice things for me and we're going to have trouble when the time comes to say good-bye.”

Her words were sharp and unexpected. Cut into him. Deep. “Who says we're saying good-bye?”

Her lips curved into a soft, sad smile. “I know who you are, Cole. And who you're not. It's part of your charm.” Her smile widened. “And I know why you came into my life in the first place. What you want from me.”

“Hell, woman. I don't even know what I want from you. Well, that's not true.” His head dropped back against the cool tiled wall. “But how I got here isn't as important as why I'm sticking around, is it?”

Her brows lifted. “Why are you?”

“I told you before.” His eyes drank her in but left him with a deep thirst for more. “I'm into you.”

She smiled shyly.

“Will you come to my fight?” he asked impulsively. “Be there on the sidelines?”

Her smile upgraded to a full-blown grin. “Cheer for you when you win?”

He nodded. “Pick me up off the ground if I lose.”

She gave him a look that said,
Are you crazy?
“You're not going to lose.”

“I've never beaten this guy, Doc.” His voice was unexpectedly rough. Maybe even held a trace of longing, if he was going to admit it.

Her eyebrows went up and down real fast. “That's what's going to make it so great.”

He laughed at her silly face. “Why do you have so much faith in me?”

Her eyes glimmered and she gave him one helluva megawatt smile. “Because I'm into you too.”

He'd heard people say—on TV, in movies, books, even from guys at the gym—that really liking someone can make your heart shift inside your chest. To make room. For the other person's heart. He'd always laughed off shit like that. Someone's heart inside him, cuddling up close to his ticker. Shoot . . . there were days he was pretty sure he didn't even have one. That the muscle had stopped working the day Cass was taken, was yanked out and buried when she was found dead.

Then this girl, this woman sitting in a sea of bubbles, had to go and tell him she liked him, that she believed in him. Making his heart pull a Grinch. Not only was it still in there and beating away. It had swelled.

His eyes held her tight. “Can I stay the night?”

She nodded.

“In your pink room?” He grinned. “Your pink bed?”

She nodded again.

“I don't think I can touch you.” He groaned with the thought. “Though, Christ Almighty, I want to. But I don't think I can stay sane if I do. You understand.”

Her lips formed the sweetest smile. “We'll sleep.”

He released a breath. “I know you've never slept with a guy until me. But I want you to know I've never slept with a girl until you.”

Her entire face lit up. “Really?”

He nodded. “Never even thought about it.”

“Oh, that makes me happy, Cole,” she said, relaxing back against the tub. “Boy, this feels so good.”

“I'm glad, Doc. Real glad.” He dropped back against the wall, and for a little while they enjoyed a shared silence.

*   *   *

Cowgirl.

I'm here.

Have you thought any more about it?

I'm always thinking about it.

Then let's just jump. Time is precious. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

What happened?

Blue glanced up. Following the afternoon rain, the clouds had moved on and a sky glittering with stars had emerged. The land he loved so much stretched out before him—Cavanaugh land. And he was a Cavanaugh.

His phone buzzed and he glanced down at the screen.

Cowboy? You still there?

Someone passed away tonight.

Oh. I'm so sorry. Someone close to you?

The opposite. A bad man. Bastard got what he deserved.

Then why do you seem so sad? If this piece of shit got what he deserved?

Blue hesitated. It wasn't like Cowgirl to cuss or sound so caustic in her texts. But then again, he knew he sounded down in the mouth. Maybe she was just giving him support. He texted her back.

Forget about him. It's you and me that matters. I want you. I want to know you,
Cowgirl. Know your real name. See your face. Touch you. Kiss you.

I want that too.

His heart seized, longing barreling through him. He needed this now. Her. This one person he trusted. He needed to have her in front of him. See her in the flesh.

When?

Blue stared at the screen, waiting. She wanted this too. Since they'd started talking, she'd made it very clear how she felt about him. It was time. Enough of the games. It wasn't fun and mysterious anymore.

He waited. The minutes ticked by. But he got no reply.