Close Enough to Touch (10 page)

His cock swelled as he imagined her yielding to him. But any
yielding on her part wouldn’t last for long. She’d fight for her pleasure.

Cole ran the bar of soap down his body, then wrapped a hand
around his hard shaft.

He’d strip off her sweater first, and then her jeans. He
imagined her standing before him in black panties and a wife beater, her nipples
hard against the thin fabric.

He’d get down on his knees for her, put his mouth to her and
suck her right through the fabric. Tease her nipples until she was arching into
him, her fingers clutching his hair. She’d be rough, and he’d love that. It’d
give him permission to be rough in turn.

He’d shove up the beater and close his teeth over her bare
nipple. Slide both his hands down the back of her panties and spread his fingers
over the warm flesh of her ass.

Stroking his cock, Cole imagined shoving her panties down and
putting his mouth to her pussy.

He groaned, putting one hand against the cold bathroom tile to
support himself as he jacked off. Water beat against his back. His hand was
slick and tight as he imagined her gasping at the way he’d suck her clit.

Christ, he’d love to do that. Make her arch and whimper. Taste
her as she got wetter and wetter against his mouth. He couldn’t imagine her
still and quiet. No, he was pretty damn sure she’d writhe and moan and fight
toward her climax. The way she fought everything.

He tightened his grip on his cock and stroked faster, imagining
the way he’d suck her. Lick her. Reach up and squeeze her nipples as he pushed
her toward orgasm.

Heat swept over his skin. Steam filled his lungs. And in his
head, Grace shook and screamed, and the taste of her flooded his mouth as she
came. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned as his own orgasm slammed into him.

Afterward, he spread his fingers against the tile and took a
deep breath. He rolled his shoulders. Stretched his neck. And realized he felt
great.

He was going to get some sleep tonight. Finally. And tomorrow
he’d go back to work. It’d be a good day. He could feel it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

C
OLE
STEPPED
OUT
OF
HIS
TRUCK
and straight
into chaos.

The ranch yard was usually quiet, aside from the sound of
horses and a few men, but now it was packed. With vehicles. Equipment. And
people. Strangers doing strange things in this familiar place.

Suddenly, the chaos coalesced. The random pieces joined
together to become something solid, and Cole recognized what was happening. Ice
swelled from deep inside him and turned his skin cold.

This was a movie set.

He shook his head and looked around again, disorientation
making it hard to process what he was seeing.

It looked like a movie set, but there were key parts missing.
Cameras and cranes and huge light towers. And crowded as it seemed, there
weren’t enough people. There was only one trailer, parked next to the barn. If
this were a real movie set, there’d be a dozen trailers and a couple of awnings
set up for the lower-level actors, not to mention all the space for wardrobe and
makeup.

What the hell was going on at the Easy Creek? This was a bad
dream. It couldn’t be real.

His pounding heart helped to drown out the noise, but Cole
still flinched at the sound of something hydraulic firing up behind him. More
equipment. Maybe they were just starting the setup. Maybe a caravan was coming
down the dirt road like a circus arriving in town. A circus from hell.

He cursed and set off across the yard, heading straight for the
big house. There were more people inside.

“Where’s Easy?” he asked the first familiar face he saw. Manuel
tilted his head toward the kitchen. The guy didn’t talk much, which was fine
with Cole at the moment. There was only one person he wanted to talk to.

“Easy,” he ground out when he spotted the old man seated at the
kitchen table. Papers were strewn about him like evidence of a crime. “What the
hell is going on here?”

Easy’s body might be giving out on him, but his mind was sharp
as hell, and he sent Cole a warning look that would’ve felt like a knife if Cole
had been able to feel anything. But adrenaline meant he didn’t feel a thing
except anger.

“Easy—”

“You’d better watch your tone when you talk to me in my own
kitchen, boy.”

Cole crossed his arms and glared. Easy had been around since
Cole was in diapers, but that didn’t mean Cole liked being reminded of it.

“Your kitchen, huh? I guess I was confused because the whole
damn place looks like a Hollywood soundstage. Why is that?”

“It’s preproduction,” Easy said slowly, as if that explained
something. As if that explained
anything.

“Preproduction?”
Cole yelled.

“Yep.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making an easy
buck.”

Cole waved his arm toward the front of the house. “Like
this?
”

“What do you mean, ‘Like this?’ They’re not filming a porno in
the barn, they’re just shooting a few scenes for a big movie. A couple of weeks
of distraction, and I’ll have a few more dollars in my retirement fund.”

Cole ground his teeth together. He knew Easy was close to
retirement. In fact, no one knew that better than Cole, which was why Cole
thought of this place as
his
ranch and why he didn’t
want these scavengers on it.

Damn it.

“This is a ranch,” he made himself say calmly. “In the middle
of summer, for godssake. How are we going to take care of the cattle and—”

“They’re my stock, Cole. You think I’d do this if it put them
in harm’s way?”

Cole shifted and jerked his chin in acknowledgment, the most
acquiescence he could manage at the moment.

“The stock’s all up at summer grazing anyway. At worst, it’ll
inconvenience the men. You’ll have to work around these folks, and they might be
underfoot around the bunkhouse. But you don’t even have to worry about that, so
what’s the problem?”

“You know what my problem is.”

“This ain’t the past, Cole.”

“Isn’t it? Because it sure as hell feels like you trucked in a
scene from my life I’d rather forget and set it up like a damned surprise party
for me!”

“This might be a good thing for you.”

“Good?” he snapped. “How do you figure that?”

“You can’t work full-time. Not on a horse and not doing
physical labor. But this kind of thing is mostly waiting around. Maybe you can
put in a few extra hours. You know about this film stuff. Maybe you could—”

“Easy! Jesus. You want me to jump back into this? Christ. We
haven’t talked about it much, but I’m sure my dad filled you in on it before he
died.”

Easy took a slow drink of coffee and kept his eyes on Cole. “I
know he didn’t like what you were doing,” he eventually said. “He said it was
trouble, but—”

“Trouble,”
Cole growled, wishing he
could put everything he was feeling into that one word. Trouble. Right.

“You’re not a kid anymore, Cole. And this ain’t L.A. You don’t
have to piss your pants over it.”

“Jesus. Are you kidding me?”

“I ain’t gonna allow mischief out here, and if these people
want to party, they’ll go into town.”

“Easy,” he said, but the words he wanted to say slipped away.
His face burned with shame. They’d never talked about it, not in anything more
than the most general terms. The parties and money and sex. “I can’t do
this.”

“Sure you can.”

Just three words. A few letters each. But they went through
Cole like a blast of heat. Easy didn’t sound the least bit worried. And the
surety in his words made Cole’s stomach twist into a hard ache. “I’m not working
with them.”

“It’ll make you money.”

“I can earn money working the ranch. I can earn even more when
I’m back in the saddle. Two weeks—”

“Farrah said it wasn’t definite. Has anything changed since
then?”

Goddamn it. He really wished he hadn’t used Easy’s niece as a
physical therapist. After all, for a small town, Jackson had quite a few PTs.
Skiing meant lots of broken bones and a high density of world-class
athletes.

“I’ll be fine,” he managed to grind out.

“You might be, but if you ain’t, then you need all the hours
you can get without a saddle.”

“You know why I don’t want these people here. What the hell are
you trying to do to me, Easy?”

“What the hell are you so afraid of, Cole?” Easy countered.

“Are you honestly asking me that question?”

“I honestly am. You went out to L.A. as a kid. And you screwed
around. That’s it.”

“I screwed around?” Cole growled.

“Yes,” Easy said. He wasn’t shouting anymore, but his voice was
still rough with anger. “You screwed around the way that kids do.”

“My dad—”

“And you’ve been hiding from it ever since.”

“I haven’t been hiding from shit! I came back home. It’s where
I belong.”

“Is it?”

The quiet words froze Cole to the bone. “Excuse me?”

“How do you know you belong here when you’ve never done
anything else?”

He didn’t like this at all. He didn’t like the sad look in
Easy’s familiar eyes. “Why are you asking me this, Easy?”

“Because you came back here to lick your wounds. Then you just
never left.”

“I didn’t leave because this is where I belong.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe, my ass. I’ve been saving up to buy this land for a
dozen years. You need me to prove something now?
Me?
”

“Maybe I do. See, I was wondering how you’d react to our new
friends out there in the yard. It’s been a long time, Cole. Too long for you to
look so spooked.”

“I’m not spooked, damn it. I don’t like these people. There’s a
difference.”

“Is that what it was on your face? Dislike? Looked more like
panic.”

He didn’t think he’d felt panic before, but he was starting to
feel it now. What the hell was Easy trying to pull? None of this made any sense.
They’d talked about this years ago. Easy would run the ranch until he couldn’t,
and then Cole would buy it from him at a fair price. Slightly below market,
maybe, because Easy didn’t have any kids and Cole was like family. But a fair
price for the small ranch.

So maybe Easy had changed his mind. Maybe he’d decided not to
retire or sell his land. Or maybe he’d gotten a better offer. “You thinking
about selling to someone else, Easy?” Cole asked quietly, hoping it would sound
like mild curiosity. Instead, it came out sounding like fury, even to Cole’s
ears.

“I haven’t thought about selling to anyone else since the
moment you told me you’d buy it.”

“Until now?”

“This isn’t about someone else. I took the offer from the
producer because the money’s good. I wasn’t thinking much about you until you
showed up here yelling. Now, if you haven’t spent thirteen years hiding, show me
that.”

“I’m telling you I haven’t.”

“Yeah. You’ve also got a whole heap of pride and arrogance and
stubbornness pushing those words out. So
show
me.”

“How?” he snapped. “By playing lapdog to a bunch of Hollywood
assholes?”

“Yep.”

“Fuck you, Easy!”

“Nah, that won’t help.” There wasn’t an ounce of tension in
Easy’s voice now. In fact, he sounded genuinely amused with himself.

Cole’s shoulders fell. Hell,
Easy
was a misnomer. Oh, sure, he seemed laid-back and good-natured, but underneath
that, the man was made of pure steel.

If he needed Cole to prove something, Cole was going to have to
prove it. Why the man needed proof was another question. For another day. And
Cole would damn well be asking it. But for now…

“Fine,” he sneered. “I’ll play your little game.”

“It’s not a game,” Easy said softly. “And it’s not a test. At
least, I won’t be the one grading it.”

“If you’re going to make me do this, at least don’t speak in
riddles. Christ.”

“You’re gonna do it?”

“Sure. Yeah. I’ll do it. Just to prove you’re being
ridiculous.”

“I might be. But it’s better than watching you cripple yourself
over something you may not even want.”

This broken leg was ruining his life. First, he’d lost his
brand-new position as ranch boss. He’d waited five years for Raoul to move back
to New Mexico the way he’d been threatening. Finally, the position had been
Cole’s, and the little house that came with it. But that was gone, too. After
all, someone had to be boss when Cole couldn’t be, and that someone got the
boss’s house.

And now this broken leg might cost him his sanity. Maybe even
his whole way of life.

“Just tell me what you want me to do, so I can do it.”

“How would I know anything about it? Go talk to the lady in
charge.”

“Fine. Which lady?”

Easy said the name. It fell into Cole’s ear and then expanded
like an explosion. He hadn’t been expecting to hear it and, strangely, the shock
gave him the moment he needed to compose himself. Easy didn’t see what Cole was
really feeling, and that was damned good, because this time, it was definitely
panic.

CHAPTER NINE

T
HE
TRUCK
TIRES
SQUEALED
as Cole took the turn into Jackson. He
needed new tires. Hell, he’d needed new tires since last year, but he’d been
trying to eke one more season out of them. Then that stallion had fallen on him
and fifteen hundred dollars for a new set of tires had seemed an extravagance.
More savings gone. More hours he’d have to work.

Now they were hours he’d have to work with Madeline.

Easy couldn’t have known. He’d never have forced the issue
otherwise. Maybe Easy knew Cole had worked with Madeline, maybe he even knew
they’d had a fling, but he didn’t know how badly it had ended.

“Damn,” he bit out, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he waited
for a stoplight to turn green. But when it turned green, no one moved. A buffalo
had wandered onto the shoulder of the highway, and now tourists were getting out
to snap pictures. By the end of the week, they’d barely even glance at a
standing bison, but it was only Tuesday. It was still special. Cole would’ve
smiled at them on any other day.

But not today.

Madeline had been off-site today, at least, so Cole had gritted
his teeth and told the location manager that he was there to help if they needed
it. There had been a few questions here and there about moving horses and
parking trailers and finding a place to store lights, but that had been it.
Maybe Madeline would stay off-site. There was a river location where they’d film
an extensive action scene. Probably on the Snake. Maybe she’d stay put on that
site. Maybe Cole would be spared.

But it didn’t feel like mercy. It felt like torture, waiting
for that woman to show up. His first eight-hour day back at work and he felt
that he’d lost his mind. Actually, he felt that he
needed
to lose it. And fast. So when he finally got past the
tourists, Cole drove too fast for home, then raced through his shower and headed
for the Crooked R.

After the long day and too much tension, his leg throbbed, and
if he couldn’t have a beer—or four—he was just desperate enough that he might’ve
given in and popped an oxycodone.

Not good.

During those first few weeks, he’d taken the pills the doctor
had given him, but only sparingly. He’d tried to get by on nothing but high-dose
ibuprofen and Tylenol, but sometimes he’d needed the serious stuff. Sometimes
he’d suffered enough pain to fantasize about sawing off his own leg just to stop
the deep, incessant throbbing. Ridiculous, of course. Amputation would’ve
offered more terrible pain, but his whole body had felt like one giant, pulsing
light of agony. He’d been hurt plenty of times. This time, he’d realized that
the ruthlessness of sharp pain could overwhelm itself somehow. Burn through you
until it was done. But that horrible, deep ache…that was something else.

Yet he’d made it through. The long hours of daylight when he’d
pretended to be cheerful for his friends, when it had taken all his
concentration not to grind his teeth to dust and scream in pain and rage. And
the longer hours of the night, when he’d lain sleepless and sweating, and
sometimes he’d let tears roll down his cheeks just for the relief of it.

He’d gotten through it, and he was almost clear of it now. No
more powerful drugs. Just ibuprofen for a few more months, and he’d be fine. He
had to be. And he’d be damned if he was going to let that bitch ruin him. Not
again.

Cole walked across the yard, head down, lost in thoughts of
what might happen the next day. His stomach turned with the knowledge that he’d
see her. This woman who’d once been his lover. This woman who’d used him. Who’d
convinced him to use himself.

His face heated at the thought. His shoulders screamed with a
tension that traveled down his back to join up with the ache in his hip.

He didn’t want to look at her face. He didn’t want her looking
at his.

Would she smirk? Would she sneer, looking him in the face and
knowing what he was?

The panic that Easy had named reared up in full force as Cole
rushed up the steps of the saloon.

He headed straight for the bar, but as he tipped his hat at
Jenny, his gaze slid down the line of stools and caught on a sight he hadn’t
expected. His panic skipped briefly, like an interrupted song.

Grace was there, parked at the end of the bar, a drink in her
hand, her purple hair gleaming under a neon sign. A beer appeared in front of
Cole, and he murmured a thanks to Jenny before he downed half of it.

That helped ease his panic back a little. Then Grace looked up,
caught him watching and smiled; Cole’s panic tripped again, and tumbled into
something else. Excitement. Distraction.

He’d never seen her smile like that before. Free. Happy. Maybe
a little drunk. Jenny approached her and said something, drawing Grace’s
attention away. She smiled so hard that her nose crinkled.

Okay, maybe she was more than a little drunk.

Cole finished his beer and sauntered over.

“Miss Grace,” he said, tipping his hat.

“Hey, cowboy,” she drawled.

“Buy you a drink?”

She shot the last two inches of what looked like orange juice
and held it up. “I just happened to be in need of one. Thank you.”

Well. He’d half expected her to sneer and tell him she could
buy her own drinks. She was different tonight, and it wasn’t just the alcohol.
She
looked
the same at first glance. Tight, worn
T-shirt, this one with a British flag on it. Tight, dark jeans. Black combat
boots. Shaggy hair that was a sexy mess of black and brown and purple. But her
eyes shone with something new.

He tilted his head at Jenny. “Another round, Jenny. I think
we’re celebrating something.”

“We are,” Grace crowed.

“Are you going to tell me what it is, or is it a secret?”

“Just a good day. The new job is going really well.” She
winked.

“Yeah? That’s great.”

“And with all these hours, I can afford to buy myself a
screwdriver. Or two. Thanks to Jenny running a tab. I’ll pay you on Friday,
Jenny, I swear.”

Jenny winked. “I know where you live.”

“I guess it’s hard to hide in a town this size.”

She slid Grace another glass. “And there are only so many
places to drink.”

“Cheers,” Grace said, raising the drink toward Jenny. Then she
turned her smile to Cole. “Thanks, cowboy.”

“My pleasure,” he murmured, meaning every syllable.

“Hey!” a cranky voice shouted from behind them. “You’d better
not be giving my booze away, Jenny!”

Cole turned to grin at Old Rayleen, who was glaring at them
above the cards she held in her hand. “I bought your niece a round,
Rayleen.”

“Oh, yeah? You didn’t ask if I wanted anything. Ingrate.”

Cole winked. “I’m sorry, Miss Rayleen. Can I buy you a
drink?”

“I can get my own drinks in my own place,” she groused. Then
without looking up from her game, she muttered, “Whiskey sour.”

Jenny was already handing him the drink before he got off the
stool. Cole delivered it with a flourish. “I’m sorry, Miss Rayleen.”

“Pfft. No one notices an old lady sitting in the corner,” she
grumbled. She downed half the drink in one swallow. “Not even if I had purple
hair.”

“Your hair’s beautiful and you know it,” he scolded.

That brightened her up. She smiled and patted her gleaming
white hair. “You’re sweet to notice, Cole Rawlins.”

“I’m always sweet to you, Miss Rayleen. You know that.”

“Oh, shoot. Charmer. You brought me my drink, now go away.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You look better walking away, anyway,” she murmured.

Cole was blushing even before he saw Grace’s wide grin.

“Did my great-aunt just compliment your ass?”

“I’m sure that’s not what she meant.”

“Really?”

“No,” he said and sighed. “That’s exactly what she meant.” He
waited for Grace to stop snorting before he touched his glass to hers. “So you
had a good day. Does that mean you’re thinking of staying in Jackson?”

“Come on, now.” She laughed. “You said yourself that I don’t
look like a Wyoming girl.”

“No, but I think we could all get used to you.”

“Yeah? Am I growing on you?” Her smile gleamed with flirtation.
Cole felt lust curl through his body.

“Oh, you’re growing on me, all right.”

She laughed. “Flirt. I’m pretty sure I’m not your type,
Cole.”

“How would you know?”

“Because if I am, then you must have been awfully lonely in
Jackson Hole. I’d guess your type is more like Jenny here.”

“Oh, I… No…”

Jenny raised both eyebrows and waited to hear what he’d say.
Shit.

“I don’t…”

Grace looked from him to Jenny and her eyebrows rose, too. “Oh,
God. Were you two… I’m sorry.”

Jenny winked. “It was a casual thing, sweetie. No big deal. You
two flirt away. I’ll move out of earshot.”

“Jesus, Cole,” Grace muttered when Jenny moved away. “Well, at
least I pegged you right. That’s something.”

He could tell his face was red, but he tried to shake it off,
worried it looked like guilt. “We only went out a couple of times. That doesn’t
make someone my type.”

“It doesn’t make them not your type either. Pretty? Cute?
Cheerful? Move along, Cole. I’m none of those things.”

“That’s not true. You—”

“Oh, please.” She smiled. “Don’t lie. If you’re going to try to
talk me into something, at least be honest about it.”

His mind was spinning with a mix of frustration and hot
interest. “What exactly do you think I’m trying to talk you into?”

She laughed again, bright, genuine amusement edged with
bitterness. “Hmm. I wonder.” When she leaned closer, Cole’s skin prickled with
awareness. “You know that honesty thing I mentioned? Why don’t you try it out?
What are you doing over here buying me drinks, stud?”

What was he doing? Trying to distract himself, certainly.
Trying to add something good to this fucked-up day. But with what? Her body?

His own body answered that question with a surge of blood that
left his cock feeling heavy. He hadn’t had sex in a long time. A really long
time. Nearly a year and a half. And something about her pushed his buttons.
Buttons he’d forgotten about since he’d come back to Wyoming. That kind of
attraction was best left alone, especially considering his current problems.

But his bad mood was making his lust sharper. More aggressive.
And she was challenging him. Goading him. All she saw was a charming cowboy. But
if she wanted honesty, he was in the mood to give it to her.

“All right,” he murmured, leaning closer until he was only a
few inches from her ear. Her smile faded a little. “You want honesty? You don’t
know anything about what my type is. But you’re right about something. You’re
not pretty or cute or sweet.”

She snapped back a little at that. She tried to keep her smile
in place, as if she didn’t care, but two bright spots of pink appeared in her
cheeks and they had nothing to do with makeup. “Sure,” she said quickly. “Glad
to know I’ve got some things right.”

“You’re something different from that.” He caught a strand of
purple hair between his fingers. “You’re fascinating. And interesting. And
hot.”

The pink in her cheeks deepened. The smile wavered.

Maybe she didn’t like that. Maybe he’d said the wrong thing.
But surely any woman wanted to know she was fascinating and hot. And if she
didn’t like that, well, she’d asked for it.

“Interesting, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Because I have purple hair?”

He cocked his head and watched her smile fade. “Maybe. There
must be a reason you do it. Isn’t it because you want people to notice you? To
wonder?”

“No. It’s because I want people to know I’m not like them.”

“Well, that’s pretty interesting. But that’s not what I meant,
anyway. I meant that you’re strong. And dark. And I want to know what made you
that way. And I want to know what’s underneath it.”

“And you think you’ll find out by fucking me?” she
countered.

Cole flinched a little at the hard word, but he’d said he’d be
honest, so… “Maybe. I figure it can’t hurt.”

“Can’t hurt? Maybe you’re not doing it right.”

Oh, shit. Lust shot through him so sharply he almost groaned.
Her eyes were dark and hard again, but her mouth had softened into a smile. A
smile with a secret. Damn, he wanted to do it right. With her. Tonight.

But she was standing up, scooting off her barstool and away
from him.

“Pardon me,” she said with such politeness that he knew she was
mocking him. “I’ve got to go to the little girls’ room. See if I can make myself
pretty.”

Yeah, she was definitely his type.

* * *

G
RACE
KNEW
SHE
was
drunk, but she wasn’t stupid drunk. She was just very pleasantly, in-a-good-mood
drunk. So why the hell was she thinking about sleeping with Cole Rawlins? It was
a stupid idea from any angle.

Oh, she liked a one-night stand as much as the next damaged
girl, but not with a man who lived next door. And not when she was still
stinging from her last relationship. And not with a damn
cowboy,
of all things.

And definitely not with a man who didn’t think she was
pretty.

“Idiot,” she sneered at herself in the mirror. She knew she
wasn’t pretty. Hell, she’d dared him to say she wasn’t pretty. So why did it
sting?

Without her makeup, she was fairly plain. A small girl with a
pointy chin and dark eyes and pale skin. Her natural hair color was dishwater
brown, as her mom used to call it. As plain as the rest of her. But she’d
learned how to transform herself at a young age. To make herself look
unapproachable and tough without veering into the pitiable, obvious outward hurt
of the goth look. To make herself stand out just enough. Maybe even be striking
on occasion. But not pretty.