Close Enough to Touch (4 page)

CHAPTER THREE

C
OLE
GLARED
AT
THE
TOP
of his physical therapist’s
head, cursing her for an ogre and a devil and a nasty, power-abusing son of a
bitch. Farrah looked up and smiled. “You doing okay, Cole?” She pressed his knee
tighter to his ribs, resting all her weight against it. Not much heft
considering she had the size and appearance of a benevolent fairy. Just another
of her evil tricks.

“I’m great,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“Easy says you’re bugging the tar out of him again.”

“I need to get back to work.”

“You want this to heal right or not?” She finally released his
knee, but his hip joint screamed as she slowly lowered his leg to the
ground.

“It’s healing fine,” he said.

Her eyes slid away. “You’re strong and healthy. You were in
excellent shape before the accident, but there’s still a chance…”

“Sure.”

“When are you going back to the orthopedist?”

“Two weeks.”

“Okay.” She stood up, dusting her hands as if Cole were a pet
project. “I bet a new CT scan will have more answers. But I can definitely tell
you’ve been doing the exercises.”

He stood and stretched his back. “Thanks for coming by this
morning. I know you don’t have to do that.”

“You’re a special case.” She rolled her eyes, but then smiled
brightly. “Really, Cole. I want to help you get back in the saddle as much as
Easy does.”

“Oh, yeah? Your uncle isn’t offering much help.”

“You mean he’s following doctor’s orders because you
won’t?”

“Jesus, I haven’t ridden, have I?” Cole grimaced as he realized
he’d snapped at this girl who was like a little cousin to him. “Sorry,
Farrah.”

“Please. You wouldn’t believe the things I hear from my
clients. Combinations of words that I shouldn’t even know.” She grabbed her bag.
“Take a hot shower. Loosen everything up. And you’re making progress.”

“Sure,” he murmured as he gave her a farewell hug and let her
out the door.

He was doing great. Of course he was. Despite what the experts
were saying, he was sure he’d be fine.

As fine as could be expected for a cowboy who might never ride
again.

Cole shook his head and ran a hand over his sore thigh. He’d be
okay. The doctors were hopeful. The shattered femur was healing and the pelvic
fracture would mend. Just in time for him to get back out there to round up the
stock for fall.

It would be his last roundup for Easy. Oh, he loved Easy like a
father, but Cole was ready to own his own ranch. And Easy was ready to sell.
Next year, Cole would be rounding up his own cattle, and Easy would be sipping
piña coladas on a Mexican beach.

Chuckling at the thought of Easy relaxing on a beach in his
Stetson, Cole headed for the shower.

He made the water as hot as he could stand it, hoping no one
else in the building had put too much of a strain on the water heater. One of
these days he’d do his exercises, take a hot shower and suddenly feel good.
Great. Back to normal. He knew it. But for now, the ache hadn’t left. Sometimes
it faded to something bearable. Sometimes it swelled into a giant thumping heart
in his thigh. The pain was normal, his doctors said. Nothing to be concerned
about.

Half an hour later, the ache beaten back to a dull roar, Cole
found himself sipping his morning coffee and staring at his door again, waiting
for some sign of life from the apartment across the hall.

He hadn’t seen her since he’d watched her talk to Rayleen at
the saloon. Grace hadn’t even noticed him over in the alcove that housed the
pool tables. He’d been half irritated by that, and half thankful that he’d
gotten the chance to watch her openly.

She was a small woman, with delicate bones, but she held her
body as though she was coiled to flee at any moment. Or pounce, maybe. He hoped
it was the latter.

But as intriguing as she was, she seemed to have disappeared.
He hadn’t heard her even once, and they shared a common wall along the hall and
bathroom. Jackson was pretty quiet at night, and he’d often heard his previous
neighbor moving around, but Grace was silent as a mouse.

Of course, the previous tenant was a drunken college dropout
whose number one hobby had been juggling three different girlfriends. At least
it had given Cole a soap opera to listen to on sleepless nights.

But where was his new neighbor?

Maybe the deal had fallen through. Maybe Old Rayleen had
somehow been under the impression that she was renting the place to a hot
nephew. Though… Cole shook his head at the wrongness of that thought.

The old woman was harmless. Eccentric, but harmless. Even the
jokes in town meant nothing, which was why everyone thought they were funny.
Obviously nothing was going on between Rayleen and her young renters, but with
the house being part of the old Studd homestead, the jokes were too easy. Too
damn perfect.

And she really never did seem to rent to women.

Cole heard a car door close outside and cocked his head,
waiting to see if it was Grace returning from… Where? A boyfriend’s house? A
very, very late night with a new acquaintance? He found himself slightly
irritated at the thought, and couldn’t help but smile at his own stupidity. That
woman was all passion and attitude. If she wanted to sleep with a different guy
every night, she damn sure would, and there’d be no apologies either. He’d be a
fool to let it get to him.

Raising his cup to his lips, he realized it was empty. He
wanted to have another one, but somehow one cup of coffee made his leg feel
better and two made it feel worse. And it was already primed for feeling sore as
hell today, between working the day before and physical therapy this
morning.

Even during the worst of it, just after surgery, he hadn’t been
expecting that. That the pain would be so overwhelming. That the injury might be
so bad he’d never ride again. He’d been on a horse since he was three. It felt
more natural to him than walking. And now, now it felt as though his muscles
couldn’t quite remember the way to walk naturally, much less direct a horse with
the barest of tension. But his muscles weren’t really the problem. The problem
was the crack that went from his hip joint and halfway up his pelvis. With the
shattered femur and the metal holding all that together…

“We’re going to have to see,” they’d said. “You could do
permanent damage in a saddle.”

But Cole couldn’t accept that. He didn’t know how to accept
it.

He’d been completely out of work for eight months, and he’d
been cleared to work half days only a month before. But for a cowboy, a half day
should’ve been eight hours, with no such thing as a weekend. Cole didn’t know
what the hell to do with himself.

It was worse now that he was up and around. He was at the ranch
most days, watching his old friends do the things he couldn’t do. Cole was
relegated to the yard and corrals, limping from job to job until Easy told him
his four hours were up and he had to leave.

Four hours a day, five days a week. It was shameful. And how
was he supposed to be ready for the roundup when he wasn’t allowed to push
himself?

He wasn’t supposed to go in today, but if he snuck into the
tack house and worked a few hours on repairs while everyone else was out
checking cattle, he could sneak out before lunchtime. Hell, Easy wouldn’t know
anything about it. Cole wouldn’t get paid, but this wasn’t about the money. It
was about being where he belonged, doing something useful. And getting his body
ready to get back to work full-time.

The front door hadn’t opened yet, so Cole assumed the car had
been stopping at another house. Which still left the mystery of his new
next-door neighbor. He eyed the coffeepot, then the clock. He still had two
hours to waste before he could safely sneak onto the ranch.

So, what the hell? A little curiosity never hurt anyone.

He laughed at that. Curiosity had nearly ruined him once. But
he’d been a boy then. Stupid and easily controlled by his sense of adventure.
And his dick. One and the same, sometimes, and not exactly a moot point when it
came to curiosity either.

After all, Grace was beautiful.

Well, not beautiful. That wasn’t the word. Not pretty either.
Or cute. Not with that wild, choppy hair in chunks of brown and black and
purple. And those dark eyes that looked like they absorbed everything and let
nothing show through. And her pale, flawless skin. She wasn’t pretty—she was
striking. Like a kick to the gut. And he hadn’t felt that since…

Hell, he hadn’t felt that since he was an idiot boy getting his
first taste of a girl from the big city. So maybe he hadn’t grown up so much
after all.

But regardless of where she was from, this wasn’t L.A. and he
wasn’t signing up for a life of debauchery. He was just checking on a
neighbor.

So, Cole stood up—purposefully not pressing a hand to his thigh
as it screamed—and walked out to knock on her door.

The silence that followed wasn’t a good sign. Eight o’clock was
late by his standards, but too early for a girl like her, maybe. But the more
likely truth was that she wasn’t there. She’d disappeared as quickly as she’d
shown up. Seemed about right. Rayleen had sent Grace on her way. Those two would
probably get along like a couple of feral cats.

Convinced that the place was just as empty as it had been two
days before, Cole started to leave, only to swing back around when a muffled
voice interrupted the silence. “Who is it?”

“It’s Cole,” he said, a smile springing so quickly to his face
that it startled him. When she didn’t respond, he added, “Your neighbor.”

The door opened. Not all the way, of course, just enough to
reveal Grace standing there glaring at him.

“Good morning,” he offered, his eyes dipping to take her in.
She was dressed in jeans and a black hoodie, but her feet were bare, aside from
the deep blue polish on her toenails.

“Somebody painted over the peephole,” she muttered, running a
hand through her crazy hair. It stood up in wild layers that somehow made her
look younger. Or maybe that was the faded, smeared makeup. But he noticed that
her lips were still a deep pink color, even first thing in the morning. That
wasn’t lipstick. That was just the sweet shade of her mouth.

“The what?” he finally remembered to ask.

“The peephole,” she gestured at the door.

“Oh.” He looked over his shoulder at his own door. “I guess I
never noticed.”

“I guess you wouldn’t. Did you need something?”

“No. I just wanted to check on you.”

“Me?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Well, we’re neighbors. And I hadn’t heard so much as a door
shut since I saw you yesterday. I thought maybe Old Rayleen had sent you on your
way.”

She started to shake her head, and then seemed to be caught by
surprise by a huge yawn. Her hand clutched the edge of the door and swung it
farther open. The place looked the same as yesterday. Not one piece of furniture
or sign of life. The kitchen was dark and quiet.

Cole was craning his neck to look around her when Grace seemed
to realize what he was doing and narrowed the opening. But he’d seen enough.
None of her stuff was here yet.

“Want a cup of coffee?”

For a second, her dark, fathomless eyes flared with emotion.
Something close to lust.

“It’s already brewed,” he coaxed.

“Mmm.” She glanced toward his door, and he knew she was hoping
he’d offer to bring her a cup and leave her alone. Fat chance.

“Come on. We can leave my front door open, since I make you
nervous.”

“Ha!” Her laugh was rusty and gorgeous. “Why would
you
make me nervous?”

Cole wasn’t sure he liked the emphasis she’d put on
you,
but he just smiled. “No idea. But I obviously
do.”

“That’s not nervousness, cowboy. It’s called being smart enough
not to get behind closed doors with a strange man.”

“Strange, huh? I hope you haven’t been listening to the stories
about me. Half of them aren’t even true.”

“You wouldn’t know strange if it bit you on the ass,” she said,
but she waved him back and stepped into the hall with a small smile. “Are you
going to give me coffee or not?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, tipping an imaginary hat before he
moved across the hall to open his door. “I was just about to have breakfast,” he
lied. He’d eaten almost two hours before, but she didn’t seem to have done much
shopping yet. “Will you eat bacon and eggs? If you’re a vegetarian, I can whip
up some toast.”

She didn’t answer for a few seconds. Cole heard her close the
door softly as he headed for the coffeepot.

“Bacon and eggs would be great,” she finally said. “And toast,
too, if you’re offering.”

“Sure.” He poured her coffee and refilled his own cup. What the
hell. A little aching in his thigh was worth spending some time with her. He
didn’t have anything else interesting going on. And it wouldn’t be the first
time he’d endured aching for an attractive woman.

Cole put sugar and milk out on the counter, tossed a pan on a
burner and grabbed the bacon and eggs. He felt her gaze on his back as he
worked. “Over easy okay?” he asked as he laid bacon on the cast iron.

“Great,” she answered. “You look like you know what you’re
doing.”

He glanced back to find her seated on a stool, hunched over her
coffee as if she was cold. Mornings were chilly up here if you weren’t from the
mountains. He reached past the fridge to turn up the thermostat. “We all take
turns cooking in the bunkhouse.”

“Oh, the bunkhouse,” she said, making the word sound
mysterious. There was nothing mysterious about it, unless you thought cooking
and sleeping in what was essentially a live-in locker room was mysterious.

“So what are you doing here?” she asked. “Did you get tired of
bunkhouse living?”