Close Enough to Touch (19 page)

“Hey,” Merry said softly, her voice clear again. “Are you
okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m just…” Grace’s eyes burned, and then she felt the cool
welling of the tears that spilled past her eyelids. “I’m tired, Merry. That’s
all.”

“Oh, Grace. Don’t—”

“No, I’m good. I just need a break, you know?”

“A break from what?” her friend pressed.

Grace wiped the tears from her cheeks and raised her gaze to
the deep blue sky to stop any more from falling. She let her head fall to rest
against the corner post. “I don’t know. Struggling. Fighting everything. I just
want it to be easier.”

“Come to Dallas,” Merry said with such urgency that Grace
laughed.

“No, I’m good here. I’m working. I’m saving money. I go to
Vancouver in a few weeks. I’ll start over there. I’m almost thirty now. I can’t
be pissed off and rebellious my whole life. It’s not as charming once your
tattoos start to sag.”

“You’re not saggy.”

“No, but I will be. And I’ll hopefully have more to my name by
then than a makeup kit and three pairs of black boots. Oh, and I also own a
coffeemaker,” she said, hating that she felt pride at something so stupid.

“I’m worried about you,” Merry said softly.

“Don’t be worried. Nothing’s ever broken me. You know that. And
nothing ever will. I promise.”

“I knew you should’ve left Scott a long time ago. I can’t
believe he just threw you out. And—”

“This is a good thing, Merry. I’m enjoying this new work. It
gives me more options. Everything’s good.”

“All right.” Merry sighed. “While you’re there, try out a few
more things. Cowgirl. Rodeo queen.”

“Rodeo clown!” Grace shouted, then looked around, startled by
her own outburst.

“Hell, yeah!” a cowboy said from the far side of the saloon
porch, but he was already bleary-eyed with drink, and his friends didn’t even
glance at her.

“So are you going to go back to L.A. eventually?”

“I don’t know. I thought I was done with it. But I feel better
about it here. Maybe it’s the distance. Or maybe it’s just that I’m out of the
makeup trailer. I don’t feel cornered. Or it’s because I’m bringing something to
them instead of them directing me.”

“You don’t like being bossed? Is that what this is about?”

Grace collapsed into laughter, swinging her feet against the
weeds growing under the porch. “Maybe.”

“God, you are a hot mess.”

“Maybe,” she said, laughing.

“But I love you.”

That sobered her up every time Merry said it. Merry’s life had
been nearly as unstable as Grace’s. The big difference being that Merry’s mom
had always been there. She even tried to take care of Grace when she visited. So
Merry was used to saying that. Grace wasn’t.

“Me, too,” she said.

“Chicken,” Merry said softly.

“Whatever. You’re just trying to distract me, anyway. We need
to address the problem of these penises you can’t seem to get near.”

Merry laughed, and everything was normal again, thank God. “You
make it sound like I’m chasing them around the neighborhood.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“I’m no good with guys. Not like you are.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Grace sighed. “If you think I’m good with men,
you’re further gone than I thought.”

“They don’t think I’m sexy, Grace. Not the way you are.”

Grace got angry the way she always did when she thought of
people not being nice to Merry. “You are sexy! And you’re the sweetest person I
know. Any man would be lucky if you even looked at him.”

“Sweet,” Merry groaned. “That’s the problem. I’m the perpetual
little sister. The buddy. Once a guy ruffles your hair, your vagina has ceased
to exist for him. And,” she said and sighed, “a lot of guys ruffle my hair.”

Despite her frustration for her friend, Grace laughed. “It’s
going to happen. Someday you’ll meet a guy who thinks you’re sweet
and
wants to see your vagina.”

“You think?”

“I know. And hey, if not, you’ve always got a nice rack to fall
back on.”

“That’s true,” Merry agreed grudgingly.

“None of those guys are good enough for you anyway.”

“Which guys?”

“All of them,” Grace said. She meant it. Despite the fact that
she’d grown up with no money and no dad, just as Grace had, Merry had somehow
come through with her sensitive soul intact. Grace would kill any man who
changed that.

“I’d better go,” she finally said.

“All right. But call me again soon. I miss you, Grace.”

She got off the phone, but she stayed where she was on the
porch. It was another perfect evening in Wyoming. Cool in the shade. Crickets
just starting to chirp. No mosquitoes. No smog. Just the breeze on her skin and
the falling dusk. She took a deep breath. And another. And then Cole walked out
their front door.

And all her good intentions, all her strength of conviction and
determination—everything crystallized. Right there where she could see it. She
watched as it all went clear and bright. And then it broke apart and collapsed
into sharp shards of lust. They stabbed into her, impossible to ignore.

God, she wanted him again. She wanted him to want her again.
The idea was sweet somehow, despite that it was all animal heat and need. It was
sweet and strong and devastating. But she closed her eyes and told herself it
wasn’t real. He was just a man. It was just sex.

She pushed to her feet and disappeared into the saloon before
he could corner her alone. It was safer this way, surrounded by people. She
could disappear among them, then slip away without a fight. Or whatever it was
that he wanted. He’d called several times today. He probably thought they should
talk. Probably wanted to know what she was feeling. But she never told anyone
what she was feeling. As far as she was concerned, no one deserved to know what
she was really feeling, deep down inside. The idea of admitting that she was
scared or worried or hurt to a man… No. Her mouth went dry.

At least it was perfect timing. Shane had already ordered
another pitcher.

“I told you I’d get that.”

He shrugged. “Next week.”

“What if I’m not here next week?”

Shane paused in the act of raising the pitcher to pour another
glass. One eyebrow rose, disappearing beneath his cowboy hat. “You planning on
leaving soon?”

“Sooner rather than later.”

His gaze focused past her shoulder. “Does Cole know that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Right. I see.” He poured her glass and slid it over. “Maybe
I’d better order another pitcher, then.”

“Oh, we’re all big girls here, aren’t we?” She shrugged off the
flat doubt in his eyes. “It is what it is.”

“Sure,” he answered, managing to convey a lot of doubt in that
word.

When Cole joined them, Shane lifted his chin in greeting and
offered a beer. “How’s it going?”

Cole just grunted in that way men did when they were friends.
Some shorthand that other men didn’t seem to find rude. He tipped his face
toward Grace. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” she said without making any sign that she was willing
to move.

Cole’s mouth flattened, but he leaned closer after shooting a
look at Shane. Shane cleared his throat and turned away.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m just enjoying the evening.”

“What happened this morning?”

“I left.”

“In a huff.”

“It wasn’t a huff. I was genuinely pissed. I didn’t mean to
spend the night.”

“Why not?”

She took a sip of beer and let her gaze wander around the room.
“Regardless of what you might think, I don’t need your help.”

He leaned closer and spoke through clenched teeth. “What the
hell did that have to do with help? We had sex. You spent the night. That’s what
people do.”

“Oh, yeah? Do you spend the whole night with a lot of girls you
pick up at bars? Make them breakfast? Ask them to
stay
with you?”

“First of all,” he growled, “I didn’t pick you up at a bar.
Second, that very obviously wasn’t a one-night stand, since it’s happened for
two nights now. Third, I asked you to stay because I like you in my bed. And you
seemed to like it, too, considering the way you were snuggled up against me this
morning.”

“You were warm,” she snapped, as if she remembered anything
about it.

“I was
warm?
”

Shane darted a look over his shoulder at Cole’s raised voice,
but his face was carefully blank.

Grace was starting to feel a little guilty, and she didn’t like
that. Maybe she had been curled up to him because he was warm, but that wasn’t
the half of it, and she knew it. She liked touching him. She liked his skin and
his hands and his scent. Just the thought of it opened up an ache in her body.
It felt like a flower blooming, spreading red-hot petals through her insides. It
was need, but not just that. It was want, too. And yearning. And she hated it so
much. It felt like weakness.

She lifted her face and looked into his eyes. “I don’t need
help.”

“If you think that’s true, maybe you should look around. You
don’t even have a bed. You don’t have a place to eat your dinner. A place to
sleep. You
came
here for help!”

Good. He’d pissed her off now, and that thing spreading inside
her closed up again, squeezing itself small and invisible and meaningless. “Not
from you. I don’t need or want help from you. Got it? Your dick isn’t some
rescue line I need to hold on to. It was just sex. Deal with it.”

She stalked away, but not toward the door. She wouldn’t
retreat, as if he bothered her so much she couldn’t be in his presence. He
didn’t. He was nothing to her. But she was still aware of his eyes on her as she
stopped in front of the jukebox and flipped through the selections.

Considering it a good bargain, she spent two dollars for three
songs and nearly five minutes worth of time choosing them. Almost all of her
anger had sunk back to its normal place by then, below the surface, accessible
but not out of control. And her neck no longer burned with awareness. She
discovered why when she turned around.

Cole was no longer watching her. Instead, he was watching
Rayleen’s table. And no wonder. Seated with Rayleen was Cole’s boss, Easy. Cole
didn’t look happy to see him. Rayleen, on the other hand…

Oh, the woman wasn’t doing anything so obvious as smiling at
Easy, but her eyes were bright and her back straight and she looked ready to
fight. It was the same way she looked when she was flirting with her young
studs.

Interesting. Had they dated sometime back in the 1900s?

Grace worked her way back to the bar to ask Jenny.

“Oh, Easy comes in here a couple times a month on pitcher
night. They play gin rummy for cash.”

“Is that all they do?”

“As far as I know,” Jenny answered. “And that’s all I ever need
to know about it.”

Grace wanted to stay there with Jenny, talking and hiding, but
pitcher night was busy, and Jenny was too slammed to hang out. “Sunday!” she
promised as she rushed away.

“Sunday,” Grace whispered. But she needed the break
tonight.

At this point she had three choices: run away, sit here alone
or move back to the other end of the bar. Sitting here alone was nearly as bad
as running off. Nearly everyone she knew in this town was seated just a dozen
feet away. Sitting alone was like a terrible limbo. Too afraid to face Cole, too
afraid to leave.

Plus, her beer was over there.

“Screw it,” she muttered and pushed off her barstool to face
the tension she’d caused.

This was the problem with small towns. She’d only been here a
few days, and already people knew her. And in a small town, they’d be there even
if she tried to avoid them. In L.A. there were a thousand neighborhoods, a
thousand bars.

Oh, there were a few bars in Jackson, but most of them were
geared toward tourists. There were a few grocery stores, a few banks, a few
apartments she could afford. And people she would know even on those days when
she didn’t want to know anybody.

There had been a lot of those days. Days she didn’t want to be
seen. Days she didn’t want anyone to look at her and find her lacking. Or days
when she was so full of everything—life and anger and hurt and fear—that she
wouldn’t be able to hide it, and everyone would see.

But she’d had time to compose herself, so she stopped next to
Cole and reclaimed her beer. “Why do you hate your boss so much?” she asked.

He looked down at her, his gaze tense and far away for a
moment. He blinked and shook his head. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“About what?”

“About you coming here for help. About needing it. I shouldn’t
have said it.”

“You say a lot of things you shouldn’t say but really believe.
I’m getting used to it.”

“It’s just you,” he said, his cheeks flushing a little.

“Just me, what?”

“I lose my temper with you. I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”

She waved off his apology and watched Rayleen and Easy both lay
cash on the table.

She knew why Cole lost his temper with her. Because she had
some sort of supernatural ability to piss people off. Everybody lost their
temper with her. She was abrasive or unlikable or irritating. Probably all
three.

“I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said. It was always fine, because she wouldn’t
let it be any other way. She wouldn’t let it hurt her that he said things to her
he wouldn’t say to anyone else. Or that he was rougher with her in bed than he
was with other girls. She wanted him to think she was tough—to
know
she was tough—so it only made her happy that he
treated her as if she wasn’t fragile. Right?

It was fine. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t
explain why I left,” she murmured. “This morning, I mean. I’m sorry.” He didn’t
say anything, so Grace finished her beer and gestured for Jenny to bring another
pitcher to replace the one Shane had just finished off. “Did Rayleen and Easy
date at some point?”