Close Enough to Touch (24 page)

She stroked him the whole time she spoke, and when he finally
swelled against her hand, she hummed approvingly.

“People want things from me. Sex, excitement, money, power,
fame, glamour. And you weren’t different from anyone else. But you were sweet,
at least. I’ve never forgotten that.”

He finally admitted to himself that he couldn’t steel his body
against her touch, and he moved her hand away again in defense. “I wasn’t using
you,” he said, but her words had changed his certainty.

“You were,” she said softly. “But I liked you. And I have to
admit, I half hoped you’d turn down my offer to come to L.A. that time. I kind
of wanted you to say no. To tell me it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t what you
wanted from me. But you did come. And it was fun. But it wasn’t love.”

Cole wasn’t ready to concede anything yet. He’d been damn sure
he loved her, but when she put it like that… What exactly had he known about the
woman? “If it didn’t mean much, what is it you want from me? Just sex?”

“Well, the sex was good, make no mistake. But it’s not just
that. I know you. Money can buy a lot of things. It can buy sex. But it can’t
make it good. And it can’t make it sweet. You were sweet, Cole. I want that
again for a few weeks. That’s all.”

“I’m not sweet anymore, Madeline.”

“Yes, you are. Look how you came out to rescue me, a woman you
have every reason to hate. You’re sweet.” She kissed his shoulder. “And strong.”
Then his neck. “And big.”

This time when she cupped him, Cole closed his eyes and tried
to imagine it. Sex with Madeline again. He could do it. But did he want to?
After what he’d had with Grace… Hell, brief as it had been, that affair had
rocked his idea of what intensity was.

With Madeline, it wouldn’t be the best sex he’d ever had, but
sex was sex, and it couldn’t all be the best. He knew it wouldn’t be bad with
Madeline, it would be fine. But afterward—there was the problem. Afterward,
could he live with himself?

It wasn’t as if he’d be betraying anyone. But Grace immediately
invaded his brain. Her face, her dark eyes, her body melting into him. Except
there’d be no more melting in Vancouver. Not with him, anyway.

And there was the real truth. The reason he hadn’t said no out
of hand. Because Grace was going to leave him behind. In a few weeks, she was
going to walk away while he watched. But her memory would stay here. At the
ranch. In his bed. In the saloon. She’d leave, but she wouldn’t take her ghost
with her. She’d leave that behind, tucked up against Cole like a shadow.

But in L.A., he could forget her. Just for a while. Long enough
to ease this need for her, maybe.

Madeline’s hand slid up to his belly and she kissed the back of
his neck again. “Think about it,” she murmured.

That was the terrible part: he already was.

CHAPTER TWENTY

H
E
WAS
HAVING
AN
AFFAIR
with Madeline
Beckingham.

Grace watched as Madeline slid off the horse and immediately
turned back to smile up at Cole. Her hand went to his knee, then a little
higher. She touched him as though she’d touched him before. As if touching was
the least of what they’d done.

Grace couldn’t see Cole’s expression beneath the hat, but he
didn’t edge the horse away or move the woman’s hand. In fact, he nodded at
whatever she said, and Madeline laughed.

Something shifted inside Grace’s chest, something swelled and
twisted and burned a hole inside her. She’d thought the sex between her and Cole
had been honest. Not meaningful, maybe. Not tender. But honest. She’d understood
it, and she’d trusted it.

But no.

No. Of course not. Of course it hadn’t been any more honest
than the rest of this fucked-up world. He’d been sleeping with Madeline, too.
Probably holding her like some cherished china doll while he did her.

Grace felt herself sneering in his direction and made her mouth
relax. She didn’t care. She didn’t care enough to show him anything.

It’d just been sex. She’d told him that over and over again.
Just sex. He hadn’t owed her anything. He certainly didn’t owe her anything
now.

Still, he’d tried to make it into something more. That bastard.
He’d tried to make it more, and he would’ve hurt her if she’d believed him.

Her gut instinct had been the last thing she’d been able to
trust in this world, and now that was gone, too. First her pride in her own
strength, now the basest of animal instincts. She had nothing.

She watched him move the horse back to the barn. Apparently he
could ride again. Apparently he was just fine. Had that been another lie?

Despite all her resolutions about starting a new life, Grace
wanted to kick something, hit something. She wanted to scream and rage and
ruin.

But not here. She glanced around, relieved that no one was
watching her, because the violence must show on her face. She caught sight of
Cole disappearing behind the barn, and Grace moved in that direction.

Her rushing breath seemed to take her over until it was all she
could hear or feel. The air straining through her throat, her lungs fighting to
make space for it. There wasn’t enough oxygen in this godforsaken place. The air
was thin and meaningless. Despite her light-headedness, she walked on until she
reached the barn.

When she turned the corner, she saw him standing next to his
horse, his wide back facing her. His shirt was wet and tight against his
muscles. His legs wrapped with dark leather chaps. He looked invincible.

Grace’s rage swelled up until she could feel it saturate her
skin and then expand beyond it. She was cocooned in it now. Shielded from
anything else.

“How long have you been fucking her?” she snarled.

His head rose and he glanced at her over his shoulder. He
didn’t bother turning around. In fact, he turned back and pressed his forehead
to the leather of the saddle. “Go away, Grace.”

“How long?” she repeated.

“It’s none of your business.”

“You bastard.”

“What the hell do you care?” he asked, his voice strained.

“I don’t
care,
Cole. I’ve never
cared. But I don’t like being lied to. I refuse to be one of those stupid girls,
you understand?
You
were the one trying to make it
into something more. What if I’d taken you up on that? What if I’d believed all
your bullshit?”

“You didn’t, so it doesn’t matter, right?”

“How long?”
she yelled, hands
curling into fists. “Tell me!”

He raised his head, but he didn’t look toward her. “Thirteen
years, I guess.”

Thirteen
years?
For a moment, it
made no sense. That didn’t even— “Oh,” she said dumbly, seeing it all now.
Thirteen years. That was why this whole situation had been so volatile for him.
Because Madeline was his lover, and Grace had caused all their paths to
intersect, and then he’d been sleeping with Grace and answering to Madeline in a
place he’d considered his own. And then trying to keep it all contained, trying
to keep his lies straight.

“I see. So I guess I was the interloper here. I was the girl on
the side this time.”

“No,” he murmured, dropping his head again. “It wasn’t like
that.” She thought she heard a pained laugh. “It wasn’t like that at all.”

“No? You can’t even look at me.”

“Yeah, you’ve got that part right.”

“Damn it, Cole. Why would you do that?”

He sighed. “Why are you even asking? You made it clear we meant
nothing. You didn’t even
want
us to mean
anything.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Can you just leave it alone?” he snapped, the words cracking
as the lightning had earlier. “Please? I can’t do this right now. Just…leave it
alone.”

Grace huffed out a shocked breath. “Oh. Sure. I’m so sorry I
inconvenienced you.”

“Grace—”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right. None of it meant anything.
Goodbye.”

She spun and walked away, swallowing compulsively against the
boulder that had taken over her throat. Her cheeks burned. Her eyes stung. She
needed to cry. She hadn’t cried in front of anyone in years, and now she needed
to sob. She couldn’t do it. Not here. Not anywhere. Ever.

There wasn’t even a reason to cry, for godssake. After
everything that had happened to her, everything her life had been,
this
was what made her want to break down? A brief
affair with a near stranger?

God, it was laughable. But instead of a laugh, a sob snuck out.
She inhaled sharply, trying to take it back. Trying to grab it before it dragged
more sobs from her.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

She veered away from the groups of people gathered in the yard
and headed blindly in the direction of the house. She didn’t know why. She’d
chosen the path in panic, and now she didn’t know what to do. If she spun around
and moved in the opposite direction, the movement might draw attention, and she
couldn’t bear that. So Grace kept going toward the house, then skirted around
the corner and rushed toward the backyard.

Once she was hidden from view, she pressed her back to the wall
of the house and tipped her head up. She’d read somewhere that looking up could
help stop tears. That trick had worked before, but it failed her now. These were
more than tears. This felt like another person inside her, another
her,
trying to push out through her throat. Trying to
get free of this mess she’d made of her life.

She pressed her shaking hands to her mouth to hold it back. Her
breath rushed past her fingers as she stared up at the roiling sky. Why couldn’t
it rain now? Why couldn’t the sky open up and bury her in water?

This was terrible, whatever it was. She didn’t want this. Why
did it hurt so much?

“Miss?”

Grace jerked away from the wall and dropped her hands.

“You okay?” Easy asked from the back step of his house.

“I’m good,” she croaked, as if a person in good shape would be
hiding behind a house with her hands pressed to her mouth to hold back sobs.

“You look real pale, Miss…Grace, is it?”

“Yes,” she said on a breath. “Just a little professional drama,
Mr. Easy. That’s all. I’m fine.”

“Come on in for some lemonade.”

“No, thank you. Really.” The pressure was easing, thank God.
She could almost speak normally.

“A beer, then.”

The fact that she could fake a smile surprised her. “No. I’m
fine.”

“You want me to get Cole?”

“What?” she gasped. “No!”

“Sorry. I saw you with him last night.”

For a moment, she flashed back to what she’d done with Cole the
night before, then realized Easy was talking about the saloon.

“Oh. No, don’t get him. I’m fine.”

“If you and Cole—”

“Did you know Rayleen is my aunt?” she interrupted, desperate
to change the subject.

His chin drew in. “What?”

“Rayleen is my great-aunt.”

“Well. No, I didn’t know that. I didn’t think she had any
family to speak of.”

“Oh, she seems like she might’ve sprung from the depths of
Hades, but she has a family. Her sister—my grandmother—she lives in
Florida.”

“Huh.” He rocked back on his heels.

“Anyway. She’s sweeter than she seems. Just thought you should
know that.” Actually, she had no evidence that Rayleen was sweet at all, but
she’d needed to say something. Grace’s feet moved backward. “I’d better get
back. Thanks.”

She’d controlled the tears, anyway. She hadn’t broken down. She
was going to walk away from this the same person she’d been when she’d
arrived.

Somehow, the thought didn’t comfort her as much as she’d
hoped.

* * *

I
T
TOOK
NEARLY
twenty minutes of
slow breathing before Cole could walk. Twenty minutes of trying to convince
himself to take that first step.

His leg had simply given out when he’d dismounted, folding up
with one last blast of pain. He’d caught himself on the pommel, and he was damn
grateful for that, since Grace had come around the corner not thirty seconds
later.

What did she want from him? Was she just stone-cold crazy? He
was in too much pain to puzzle out a woman whose soul must look like a maze. If
she had a soul. She probably didn’t.

The tension of dealing with her and her anger hadn’t helped his
leg, but after a time, he’d been able to relax enough to stretch his muscles,
then rub some of the ache away.

Cole kept his left hand on the pommel when he finally dared to
take a few steps. His leg held him this time, despite its stiffness. Or maybe
because of it. He stretched his back and led the mare toward the gate of the
small corral. He moved slowly until he was sure he could put his weight on the
leg. It hurt. But it held.

He tied off the mare to wait until he had the strength to look
after her, then walked very carefully toward the big house. When he got to the
porch steps, he stopped for a long moment, staring at the three steps before he
took them.

“Easy?” he called when he stepped inside.

“Yep.”

Cole followed his voice to the kitchen, where Easy stood at the
back door, a cup of coffee cradled in his hand.

“I need to know if you have a plan for this place that doesn’t
involve me.”

Easy immediately looked impatient, his face creasing in a
frown. “I already told you I wasn’t thinking of selling to anyone else.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean, have you considered what
you’ll do if I can’t ride again?”

Easy’s frown immediately smoothed into shock, his pale eyes
going wide for a moment before he remembered to hide his dismay. “Cole, why
don’t we leave this discussion until you hear what the doctor has to say?
There’s every chance—”

“I rode today.”

“
What?
Why?” Easy’s eyes fell to
the chaps Cole still wore.

“Jeremy was stuck out at the spring pasture with Madeline
Beckingham during that storm. We weren’t sure what had happened, and I was the
only one around to go find them.”

“You should’ve told me! It’s my ranch and you’re my hand. I
could’ve called in—”

“It doesn’t matter, Easy. The point is I rode. And it wasn’t… I
don’t think…”

“Cole,” Easy said, his voice rough with emotion.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to ride again. And I know you’ve
been trying to tell me that, but I didn’t want to hear it.”

“Now, listen,” Easy said, “you don’t know anything. And I
talked to Farrah after that dinner she made for us a month ago. She couldn’t
tell me any details about you, of course, but she said there were other
surgeries. If that crack doesn’t heal right, they can put plates in, just like
in your leg.”

“They might be able to, yes. But that’d be almost another year
of healing, plus rehabilitation. And there’d be no guarantees. And no assurances
it wouldn’t put so much strain on the bone it’d cause more problems in the
future. I already heard all this. I just wasn’t listening. I wanted it to not be
true so badly that I—”

“We don’t need to discuss it now. Jesus, we’ve waited this
long. Let’s see what they say.”

“No, I need to know you’ll be all right, whatever the
outcome.”

“Me?”
Easy practically shouted. His
neck turned red, then his ears, but Cole saw the way his eyes glinted. “You’re
worried about
me?
Jesus Christ, boy.”

“I know you don’t want to sell this place to just anyone.
You’ve worked too hard to—”

“I am not discussing this with you,” he ground out.

“This is all you wanted to discuss before!”

“If you can’t ride… If that happens… Well, we’ll figure it out.
I hardly ride at all myself anymore. There’s no reason you can’t—”

“Easy,” Cole said quietly. Easy immediately closed his mouth,
his gaze falling to his hands, clasped tight around the coffee mug. “I can’t
stay here. Not if I can’t ride. I can’t spend fifty years watching men ride out
to do the things I can’t do. When I’m seventy, sure. I’ll have earned my place
on the porch. But not like this.”

“Damn it, Cole,” Easy whispered.

“Isn’t this what you’ve been trying to get me to see?”

He blinked rapidly, then cleared his throat. “That doesn’t mean
I like it.”

“I don’t like it either. But I’ve got to think about it. Away
from here maybe. Because when I’m here, all I can see is this place, this land,
what I’ve wanted to be my whole life. My father and…”

“Your father was wrong. This isn’t the only life for you.”

“I guess I’d better hope it isn’t.”

“That woman, for instance. She might be another life.”