Close Enough to Touch (18 page)

“Please?” she pressed. “Pretty please?”

And then there was a memory. Lying in her bed, spent and naked
and sweaty. He’d been starry-eyed in love with her and floating in a cloud of
satisfaction. And then she’d asked him to go spend the night at her friend’s
hotel.
Pretty please? She really liked you, Cole. And you
obviously liked her a lot, too.

He’d said no at first, and Madeline had lost her powers of cute
persuasion and been immediately irritated. “Are you kidding me? You already
fucked her. What difference can it possibly make?”

“It doesn’t seem right. If you’re there, it’s one thing. But
this feels like cheating.”

“She’s a very powerful woman, Cole,” Madeline had said, her
voice caught somewhere between a coax and a threat. She’d shoved her arms into a
robe and gone to light a cigarette and glare out the window.

He’d said yes, finally, and headed out the door to a waiting
car.

His throbbing leg pulled him back to the present.

“It’s just a quick ride, Cole. Why are you being such an
asshole?”

He had a few choices. Walk away and admit defeat. Explain that
he couldn’t ride. Not yet. Or tell her that he hated her guts because of what
she’d done to him. Emotional wounds or physical ones?

He went for something less drastic. “I broke my leg last year.
It’s still acting up. No pleasure riding right now.”

Her anger dropped away and she smiled. “Pleasure riding, huh?
Is that why you didn’t come by last night?”

He didn’t respond, but he was damn glad she’d changed the
subject.

“Well, will you at least saddle my horse for me?”

“Sure.”

Riding high on relief, he grabbed her tack and started up the
trail to the corral, doing his best to hide any limp. She was right behind him,
just a step back. As they moved away from the yard, the noise of people faded
and they were suddenly very alone in the breeze. Leaves rustled. Their boots
crushed the occasional patch of dried grass. Cole felt every step like a knife
of hot steel.

“You know,” Madeline said, “I’m a little surprised to find you
here still playing cowboy, Cole.”

His head snapped up and he glared at the far tree line. “Excuse
me?”

“I expected you were still in L.A. somewhere. Or at least not
here. You had big plans.”

He actually laughed, her statement was so outrageously awful.
“Madeline, I don’t even know what to say to that. I did have big plans. Yes.
You’ve got that part right.”

“So, what happened?”

He adjusted the saddle he’d balanced on his shoulder, hoping
the shift would take some of the weight off his injured leg. “I came to L.A. for
you. Did you forget all that?”

Madeline moved past him with a shrug. “It got too complicated.
Even you said that.”

“It got complicated because you were sharing me with your
friends!”

“Sharing. Exactly. It’s not like you weren’t willing.”

“I didn’t know what I was getting into. And I didn’t enjoy
it.”

“Hard to believe that when you managed to perform. Chelsea had
nothing but good things to say about you. Not that I needed to be told. Your
body is a work of art, Cole Rawlins.”

“Am I supposed to say thanks?”

She waved a hand. “Look, I’m sorry about how it ended. After
that argument, I just assumed you wouldn’t want to stay in L.A. and work for
me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You banned me from your estate.
You stopped taking my calls!”

Now she was the one who stopped, her boots sending up little
arcs of dust. “I did no such thing.”

“I tried to call that night.”

“I remember that. I was busy.”

“Busy with Chelsea,” he snapped. That had been the end of it.
When she’d gotten pissed that Cole had said no to another threesome. She’d
accused him of being an unsophisticated hick.

She put her hands on her hips. “I didn’t ban you from the
estate.”

“I showed up the next day. God, I even brought flowers, as if
I
had something to apologize for.”

“You called me a psycho slut.”

He just raised an eyebrow, daring her to argue that point. “I
was told I was no longer needed. When I said I needed to talk to you, Diane said
I wasn’t allowed in and if I stayed she’d call the police.”

For a moment, Madeline frowned in confusion. Well, her eyebrows
dipped a little, but her forehead stayed smooth as silk. Then her eyes widened
with some sudden understanding. “Oh,” she said.

“Is it starting to come back?”

“I may have mentioned something to Diane about never wanting to
see you again. It was late at night and I was still mad. When you left, Chelsea
and I argued, too.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he snapped.

“I don’t think she wanted me at all. She’s the one who asked if
you could join us.”

Cole let his head fall back and stared at the sky. One lonely
cloud floated at the edge of his vision. “I have no idea why you’re telling me
this.”

“I just meant that I didn’t intend to make you disappear from
my life. I lost my temper. I was complaining about you. That’s all.”

“And the phone calls? Was Diane in charge of ignoring those,
too?”

Her gaze slid away. She shrugged again. “Look. It was obviously
not going to work for us, Cole. You were a small-town boy with small-town
ideals. I spent my college years in Europe. I have different ideas about sex and
love. I didn’t need you hanging around and making me feel like there was
something wrong with me.”

“Yeah? And you decided that after we’d been together for a
month? That realization came to you after I gave up everything and moved to
California? For
you?
”

“You gave up a minimum-wage job,” she snapped.

“I gave up a girlfriend and a life and my family!”

She flushed a little and started moving toward the corral
again. “You wanted to come. You needed some excitement. Isn’t that what you
said?”

He followed her, anger taking away any of the pain he’d
normally feel from moving so quickly. “I also said I loved you. Do you remember
that?”

“Cole, we gave it a go. I had a life in L.A. and you didn’t
like it. That’s it.”

“Right. A life. And an image. And other people you wanted to
sleep with.”

She reached the fence, but she couldn’t go in. There were too
many horses still in the corral, and she was a Hollywood girl, but she knew
enough not to go barging in on unfamiliar horses.

She put her hands on the raw wood of a railing and watched as
one of the mares came closer to sniff her. “I’m playing a man’s game here, Cole.
In a man’s world. And if I have to do twice the work that any man does to be
taken seriously, then I’m going to play just as hard as they do, too.”

Cole let out a slow breath. “Wow,” he murmured.

“I didn’t lie to you, you know. I wanted you there. But after a
few weeks, I knew it wasn’t going to work. You and I were nothing alike. We
didn’t want the same things.”

“Like Chelsea?” he spat.

“Yes. Like Chelsea, and art films and those parties I’d take
you to where you didn’t understand half the subjects being discussed. You were a
cowboy, for godssake.”

Cole huffed out a laugh, but he knew it sounded more like he’d
been punched in the gut. “You know what? That would honestly hurt my feelings if
I thought that was really the reason you blew me off. But you’re a damn liar.
You never intended for me to be anything more than your personal toy. After all,
you weren’t going to take me to London and introduce me to that actor you were
living with there, were you?”

She turned and met his gaze, and he couldn’t quite believe how
untroubled her eyes were. She wasn’t ashamed. She didn’t feel guilty. “So?” she
said. “It was good between us while it lasted. We had chemistry and excitement.
We made each other happy for a few weeks.”

“What the hell does that matter?”

“You know why it matters. I want to do it again.”

Cole tossed the saddle onto the top rail and rolled his
shoulders. “This is unbelievable. I can’t even talk to you.”

“What else do you have going on? You have to hang out with me
anyway. Why don’t we both enjoy it to its fullest?”

“Why? Because you fucking humiliated me, that’s why. I had to
stand there with flowers in my hand and beg to see you while your little lackey
smirked at me. And then I was alone in L.A. with no work. And after all that,
my—”

He cut himself off. She knew nothing about his father, and he
couldn’t even blame that on her. That part was his responsibility.

“I apologize for embarrassing you, Cole. I didn’t intend to do
that. If that’s what this is about, then let me make it up to you.”

“No,” he said. “That’s not what this is about, Madeline. Excuse
me.” He pushed open the corral gate and tossed the bridle around the pinto she’d
picked out as her own.

He could feel her eyes on his back. She was still looking for
some weakness. Some opening to get what she wanted. She was good at that. He
hadn’t realized it back then, and he knew now that he’d been shamefully easy to
manipulate. A twenty-one-year-old kid who’d felt as if he was staring at the sun
when he looked at her. Hell, he’d been all ego and testosterone and sex drive. A
good ol’ country boy, just as she’d said.

He’d even told her that he loved her after she’d pulled a trick
with her mouth he’d never experienced.

That was what he hated about her. Not for what she’d done to
him, but for what he’d done to himself. What he hated about her was that she
knew all of it. She knew that he’d bad-mouthed his friends. That he’d scoffed at
the idea of being a cowboy for his whole life like his father. That the moment
Madeline had crooked her little finger, Cole had walked away from a sweet girl
who’d loved him.

“God, you’re a delicious treat,” Madeline had said that first
night. He should’ve paid attention to her words. A treat. Not even a real
person. Just something to be consumed.

He checked the cinches on the saddle and led the horse to the
gate. “Need a hand up?” he asked gruffly.

“Sure.” She sounded subdued, but she’d slipped on her
sunglasses and he couldn’t read her eyes.

“Bring him back to the barn.”

“Got it.”

Cole watched her ride off and told himself this would be over
in a few days. Granted, they’d be back. But by then, Cole would be in a saddle
and out on the range. No way was he taking on this job for actual production.
Easy could take that idea and shove it up his ass.

And if he wasn’t able to ride…

“That’s not going to happen,” he muttered as he flipped open
his phone. No signal out here at the corral, which was no surprise. Half the
time he couldn’t even get one bar back in the yard. And he was less and less
convinced that Grace would call anyway.

Maybe she’d tired of him the same way Madeline once had. Maybe
he needed to find a girl who’d never known anyone but cowboys. He wouldn’t be
such a damned disappointment then.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

S
HE
’
D
MANAGED
NOT
TO
THINK
about him today.

Okay, that was an out-and-out lie.

Grace grimaced as she thanked the caterer who’d given her a
ride home and headed for the ol’ Stud Farm.

The truth was that she’d managed not to think about him when
she was too busy to think, so she’d volunteered for every single bit of work
that Eve had mentioned even as an idea. Their duties on-site were winding down,
but there was still paperwork to babysit and copies to make and forgotten items
to run out to sites.

Eve had been taking pictures for the production team at the
river, so luckily, most of Grace’s hours had been spent there. She’d only had to
stop at the ranch once, and she’d happened by at a lucky moment. Cole had been
walking away with Madeline, heading out toward the horses.

Things were no better between those two, it seemed. Their body
language had been tense as they’d talked.

Thank God his back had been turned, because the sight of Cole
had caused Grace to nearly stumble to a stop. How could she already know the
shape of him and the way he moved his hands in the barest of expression as he
talked? How could she immediately recognize the way he held his jaw, despite the
fact that his face was shaded by the brim of his hat?

And why did that recognition set off some awful resonance
inside her chest? It was a terrible, subtle vibration that traveled through her
belly and turned her on like a switch.

“Damn,” she murmured as she let herself into her apartment. It
wasn’t quite six yet. Eve had sent her home early. Good thing, because she could
relax for a little while without worrying about running into Cole.

And relaxing was just what she planned to do. But first, she
had some errands to run. Starting with the bank, to cash her first check. An
hour later, she was the proud owner of a used air mattress and folding chair, a
tiny two-cup coffeemaker, one saucepan and ten packs of ramen noodles. The
fifteenth was payday, it seemed, and she needed to use a tiny bit of the money
to take care of herself.

Grace cooked up a big bowl of noodles and sat in front of her
open window in her new chair to watch the world go by as she ate.

Well, not much of the world. But at least six cars passed, and
a pack of motorcycles rolled by. Two of them parked in front of the saloon.
Wednesday was five-dollar pitcher night.

“I have five dollars,” she said to her empty bowl. She smiled,
not at the thought of beer, but at the thought of having a choice. Music glided
over as the wind shifted, tempting her further.

“Oh, what the hell.” She’d started the day off in her underwear
in a hallway. That seemed like the kind of day that should end with a beer.

She carefully cleaned up her kitchen, setting up her tiny
coffeemaker in a corner as if she needed to conserve counter space. Then she
changed into a T-shirt and her heeled boots and touched up her makeup before
heading over to the Crooked R.

The place was packed.

A man was behind the bar for a change, though Grace caught a
glimpse of Jenny weaving between crowded tables. “Hey, girl!” she called when
she spotted Grace. “You sure got Rayleen riled up today!”

Grace groaned and shook her head. Jenny couldn’t hear her, but
apparently Grace’s expression was clear enough, because Jenny laughed so hard,
her tray nearly tilted into disaster.

Smiling, Grace looked around for a place to sit, and her eye
caught on Shane, who was standing at the bar. He held up a pitcher and pointed
at it, offering to share. She almost shook her head no.

But she didn’t know anyone else in the place, so Grace tilted
her head and began to work her way toward him. Too late, she saw that Aunt
Rayleen was at her usual table. And the man Grace had met that morning in her
underwear was standing just behind Shane.

Shane seemed to read the foul word that formed on Grace’s lips,
and his eyebrow rose in question. Well, if he hadn’t heard the story, she wasn’t
going to inform him.

But that was wishful thinking, of course.

“Hey, Grace,” he said, “you putting on daily shows in the
hallway now? I can’t wait to see tomorrow’s performance.”

“Funny,” she muttered as she took the beer he offered.
“Thanks.”

Rayleen gathered up a stack of cards and glanced up as she
shuffled them. “Well, there she is. Miss America.”

“Aunt Rayleen,” Grace said and sighed.

“I see you’re not too big for your britches after all. Guess
there must have been a mix-up this morning.”

“Hey,” Lewis interrupted, stepping around Shane to offer a
hand. “I thought I’d reintroduce myself. I’m Lewis MacIntosh. It’s good to meet
you, Grace. Again.”

She shook his hand and murmured hello.

“Sorry we weren’t introduced before today. I was down in Denver
for a few days. I’m actually moving next month.”

“Good riddance,” Rayleen interrupted. “Go on. Perpetuate a
fraud on some other old woman.”

Grace leaned a little closer to Lewis and lowered her voice to
a whisper. “I see she doesn’t like you much either.”

Shane laughed, apparently hearing every word. “That’s the
understatement of the year.”

“How so?”

Rayleen snorted. “Don’t bother flirting with that one, you
hussy.”

“Why not?” Grace snapped. “I am a hussy, after all.”

“No use. He’s gay as the day is long.”

“Who?” Grace asked in surprise. “Shane?”

“Nope. That one’s straight as an arrow. Ain’t ya, Shane?”

“So they tell me,” he said with a drawl.

“I’m talking about Lewis. Bet he could suck the chrome off a
trailer hitch. A goddamn disappointment.”

“Not such a disappointment for his partners, I’d guess,” Shane
said in a low voice, lifting his glass toward Lewis.

Grace inhaled half a mouthful of beer and spent a full thirty
seconds coughing. Maybe she could like Shane after all, if only for the sour
expression on Rayleen’s face.

Lewis was grinning, but his cheeks had gone fantastically
red.

Shane winked. “His ex-boyfriend used to hang around here and
lament all the things he missed about Lewis. I can tell you for a fact that his
cooking skills were not number one on that list. Not after a few drinks,
anyway.”

“Jesus, Shane,” Lewis said on a laugh. “Shut the hell up.”

“Yeah,” Rayleen grouched. “It’s enough to make a woman
weep.”

Grace shot her a glare. “Aunt Rayleen, stop being mean.”

“It’s all right,” Lewis said. “She’s mean to everyone. If she
were nice to me, I’d know she really had a problem with it.”

“Oh, I’ve got a problem with it!” she barked, but Lewis just
rolled his eyes.

“I love you, too, Rayleen. I know you’re secretly going to miss
me.”

Her mouth screwed up into a bitter pout. “If I do, it’s only
because you’re as gorgeous as you are useless.”

Lewis’s laughter boomed through the bar. “Don’t pout. You’ll be
fine. You’ve still got Shane and Cole.”

“Shane, maybe. I don’t take sloppy seconds.” She scowled at
Grace, who tried not to shudder.

“Oh, good Lord,” she prayed, trying to purge that image from
her mind.

“How do you think I feel?” Shane said, offering her a refill of
beer. She took it gladly.

“She hasn’t actually slept with any of her renters, has
she?”

He lowered his voice. “I can’t speak for anyone in this
millennium, but as far as I know, she keeps her hands to herself. Actually,
she’s never even disrespectful unless she’s showing off around here. But she
always makes a big Thanksgiving dinner and drops off a plate for any of the guys
who happen to be alone. Christmas, too.”

Grace fell silent at that. Maybe the old woman really was just
lonely. She’d been married once, a long time ago. A
really
long time ago. Her husband had died in a car accident. She
hadn’t always been this person.

Grace tentatively approached Rayleen’s table and took a seat as
the old woman eyed her.

“What did you do before this, Aunt Rayleen? You haven’t always
owned this place, have you?”

Rayleen shrugged and slid a pristine cigarette between her
lips. Grace had never seen her actually smoke one. As a matter of fact, she
smelled of fabric softener, not smoke. “I raised horses when my husband was
alive. Owned a gas station in Alaska for a time. Lots of different things.”

“Alaska? Wow. What was that like?”

“Cold,” she snapped.

“I hear there are a lot of men up there.”

The cigarette bobbed. “There were enough.”

“How did you end up here?”

“Sold my place in Alaska for a pretty penny after the pipeline
went in. Then I just started driving.”

“I can see why you stopped here.”

Rayleen glanced at the cowboys gathered around the pool tables.
“Place has its charms.”

“It does,” Grace agreed, almost against her will. Too much
charm. She hadn’t wanted to like it here as much as she did. “So, you don’t
think you’ll ever end up in Florida with Grandma Rose? She says she keeps trying
to talk you into moving.”

“Oh, God. That place old people go to die? Please. The
scenery’s a lot better here.” She eyed the cowboys again, making clear she
wasn’t talking about mountains.

“They do grow ’em strong,” Grace agreed in an attempt at a
drawl.

“Yeah, they do. Go on, now.”

Grace, who’d been feeling a little warm and fuzzy about
reaching out to her aunt, frowned at the sudden dismissal. “What?”

“Go on. You’re sitting too close. It makes me look old. The
lighting in here is dim, but it ain’t that dim.”

“You’re saying you don’t want me sitting close to you?”

“Well, not on five-dollar pitcher night. Beer goggles aren’t
infallible, girl.”

Half exasperated and half amused, Grace moved back to the bar.
Maybe if Rayleen learned how to be a little nicer, she’d have real friends.
Realizing how close to home that little bullet struck, Grace reached for her
beer. She had friends. Well, she had Merry. One really good friend. At that
moment, Grace felt a sudden urge to reach out to Merry. Maybe to assure herself
that she wasn’t as far gone as Rayleen. Yet.

Making quick work of her beer, Grace tapped Shane on the
shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few, and I’ll buy the next round, okay?”

She worked her way back toward the front, passing close enough
to the jukebox to be tempted. She’d loved jukeboxes since she was little. Too
many hours spent parked at seedy bar-and-grills as a kid. The jukebox had looked
like a carnival to her. Flashing lights, promises of fun, a riot of noise.

She didn’t know a lot of country songs, but she knew a little
of the old stuff. George Strait. Dolly Parton. Her mom had gone through a
two-stepping phase with an old boyfriend, and the music had played at their
apartment around the clock.

Trying to calculate if she had a dollar or two to spare, she
slipped out onto the porch and sat in the corner with her phone.

“Hey, Merry.”

“You’re still alive! I was worried you’d been eaten by bears or
something.”

“Not yet, but there’s some really creepy antelope here that are
out to get me.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No. I’m serious about the antelope. They’re called pronghorn.
Look them up. There’s something wrong with them.”

“That’s not what I meant. You just sound so relaxed. And I hear
music in the background.”

“I’m at the saloon,” Grace said, smiling at the absurdity of it
all.

“Yeehaw!” Merry yelled.

“By the way, did I tell you my apartment building is called the
Stud Farm?”

“What the hell? Are you sure you aren’t accidentally living on
an Old West porn shoot? It’s an easy mistake to make.”

“No,” Grace said quietly. “But I am fucking a cowboy.”

“What?”
Merry squealed, the word
disappearing into peals of laughter. She was just as delighted as Grace had
expected. “Since when?”

“A couple of days ago.”

“I should hang up just to punish you for not telling me sooner.
But I can’t miss this. What cowboy? What do you mean? This sounds like a
continuing project!”

“Actually I’m not sure if it’ll continue anymore, but it’s
happened a couple of times.”

“Oh, it’s
happened?
”

Grace could practically hear her friend making air quotes.

“As in, ‘I’m sorry, was that your penis I just sat on several
times in quick succession?’”

“Something like that.” She giggled. Maybe she was drunk. She
certainly felt warm and loose and happy. She leaned against the corner post and
hung her legs over the side of the porch.

“Details,” Merry ordered. “God knows it’s as close as I’ll have
been to an actual penis in months.”

Grace looked around to be sure no one was near. “Look, he’s not
right for me.
Obviously.
He’s an actual cowboy. On a
ranch.”

“No,” Merry breathed. “No! Shut up. I can’t take it. Does he
wear a cowboy hat?”

“Yes.”

“Does he wave it in the air when he’s breaking you like a wild
horse?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, my God, he does, doesn’t he? Does he call you his
filly?”

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Okay. Sorry.” There was a sound like a hand slapping flesh.
“I’m covering my mouth,” Merry said, her voice muffled and muted. “Go
ahead.”

“He lives across the hallway from me. He’s hot. And he’s
really, really good in bed.”

“Oh, my God,” Merry whispered.

“But I think it’s over.”

“But why?” Merry wailed.

“It’s too complicated. I’m not at the point in my life where I
can get serious. A couple of nights? Sure. But every night? That’s asking for
trouble. And I truly, honestly can’t handle any more trouble right now. Not for
a while. I really…can’t do it.”