Close Enough to Touch (2 page)

“That bag must’ve done something really shitty to get a little
thing like you all riled up.”

Grace stomped her foot onto the floor and spun to face the low
drawl, her heart slamming into a crazed beat. A man stood in the doorway of the
other apartment. He leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed and mouth turned
up in an amused smile.

“Excuse me?” she snapped.

“Just wondering why you’re kicking the tar out of that bag,
darlin’.”

“First of all, I’m not your darlin’. Second, it’s none of your
business.”

His smile widened, revealing dimples in his tanned face. His
tanned, granite-jawed, handsome face. “Really? None of my business? When a
crazed banshee of a woman stands on my doorstep cursing her heart out on a
beautiful Friday afternoon? Tends to pique my interest.”

“It’s my doorstep,” she corrected, hoping she was right. Hoping
her aunt hadn’t decided to lease the apartment to somebody else in the week
since she’d written.

His eyebrows shot up, and the man pushed up to his full height.
“
Your
doorstep? Are you sure?”

Grace went for bravado and snorted. “Of course I’m sure.”

He shrugged one wide shoulder, and Grace was suddenly very
aware that his plaid button-down shirt wasn’t actually buttoned down. It looked
as though he’d just shrugged it on to come investigate the commotion in the
hall, and when he moved, a long strip of skin showed from his neck all the way
down to his waist. And then there were his jeans and the affectionate way they
clung to strong thighs.

The Stud Farm, she suddenly remembered. What kind of place was
this?

She shook off her thoughts. The man was wearing cowboy boots,
for godssake. He was wholesome and homey. His thighs were none of her concern.
But the sight of his boots reminded her that she was in Wyoming, which reminded
her why she was in Wyoming and what a mess she’d made of her life. “Anyway,” she
said with a scowl, “still none of your business.”

She grabbed the handle of her duffel bag and pulled it up with
shaky arms. She couldn’t leave her bag here, but she didn’t know what she was
going to do with it. She didn’t know what she was going to do with
herself.

A surge of anger gave her the strength to bounce the bag higher
in her grip, but she wasn’t going to make it to the curb, much less walk to…
Where, exactly?

“Let me get that.” A large hand closed over the handle and
lifted the weight from her grasp.

“Hey—” she started, but he’d already transferred the bag to his
possession. He held it with one hand as if it were a pocketbook. Even more skin
showed past his shirt now. Skin and muscle and golden hair.

While she was staring, he reached past her and opened the
door.

He just…opened the door.

“What the hell?” she bit out.

He shot her a puzzled look. “You did say it was your place,
right?”

“Yes, but…” She felt like smoke was about to come out her ears,
and wanted to snatch her bag away and tell him to get lost. But her arms were so
tired. “The door was locked,” she said past clenched teeth.

“It sticks a little. You have to pull back on it before you
turn the knob.”

“So it was just open? Unlocked?”

“Nothing to steal here,” he said, gesturing with his free hand.
“Where do you want this?”

Where, indeed? Now that they were inside, the apartment looked
like an old converted place she’d once rented in L.A. White walls, scuffed
wooden floors, a nondescript kitchen. But with little touches from the past,
like a fireplace and built-in bookshelves. And not one single piece of
furniture.

Somehow that hadn’t occurred to her.

“Right there is fine,” she murmured. “Thanks.” It didn’t really
matter, after all. Living room, bedroom. They were equally empty rooms to
her.

“Here?” the guy asked doubtfully.

“Yes, there. Thank you. I appreciate the help.”

“Yeah?” He smiled wide enough to show his dimples again. “Then
why did you look like those words hurt coming out?”

She tried frowning at him, but he just stuck out his hand.

“I’m Cole, by the way. Cole Rawlins.”

“Grace Barrett,” she said. His wide hand engulfed hers, and
though he didn’t squeeze hard, there was no mistaking the strength in those
rugged hands. His calluses rasped against her fingers.

“Grace,” he murmured, his gaze rising momentarily to her
hair.

“Yes. Grace.” She enjoyed the contradiction of her traditional,
gentle name and her physical appearance.

This man recovered more quickly than most. “A pleasure,” he
said simply. Then added, “Grace.”

She pulled her hand away at the intimacy of hearing him say her
name as if it truly were a pleasure.

Cowboy freak.
Though her hand
tingled and she tried not to smile.

“You’re not from around here.” The understatement of the
year.

“Look, I really do appreciate the help, but I need to find my
aunt, so…”
Give me some space?

He didn’t seem to hear that last, unspoken part of the
conversation. “Your aunt?”

“I’m renting the apartment from her.”

“Wait a minute. Old Rayleen is your aunt?”

“My great-aunt, actually.”

“Ah. I get it, then.”

“Get what?” she asked.

“Why she’d rent this place to you.”

Grace straightened her shoulders and scowled. “Why exactly
wouldn’t she rent this place to me, huh? Real nice, cowboy.”

She assumed he would stammer and shift and try to find some
excuse, when what he really meant was that she didn’t look like a girl who
belonged here. But instead of clearing his throat or changing the subject, he
just grinned again.

“Let’s just say you’re a little smaller than the other renters
here.”

Grace glanced around as if those other renters had just joined
them. “I thought you Wyoming folk were supposed to be plainspoken. How about you
try saying what you mean?”

“Talk about plainspoken. They don’t make ’em timid where you
come from, do they? All right, here’s the deal. Your aunt has a reputation for
renting only to men. Says that they’re easier to deal with.” The wry tone of his
voice implied something different.

“Uh, is there something going on here I should know about?”
When she shot an obvious look down his body, his eyes widened in horror.

“No! Absolutely not. But, hey, if she likes my face enough to
give me a hundred-dollar discount on rent, I won’t argue with her. But that’s
the extent of her quirkiness. I swear.”

Even the most cynical person could tell he was offering the
truth. And his face? Hell, that was enough to inspire generosity. It was lovely
in a very masculine way. A jaw like steel. Strong nose. And blue eyes that
crinkled with warmth fairly often, if the laugh lines were any indication. And
his short brown hair had just enough wave to make it look unruly and disheveled.
He was gorgeous, and his body called for further attention, too, but Grace kept
her eyes on his face.

“Isn’t it illegal to rent only to men?”

“Beats me. But I guess she gets away with it.”

“Regardless,” she finally said, “I need to find my aunt. Get a
key. Let her know I’m here.”

“Well, that’s easy. She’s probably next door.”

“At your place?”

“No! Come on. I meant next door at the saloon.”

“Is she a big drinker?”

“She runs the place,” he corrected. “And she’s a big
drinker.”

“Got it. Thanks. I’ll just go see her then.” She was clearly
implying he should leave. She even raised an impatient eyebrow and glanced
toward the door. But Cole didn’t notice because he was pointedly looking around
her apartment.

“You got some furniture coming?”

“Sure. Of course. Thanks for the help.”

He turned his grin on her again. “All right, then, Grace
Barrett. Even cowboys can take a hint when you’re bashing them over the head
with it. But let me know if you need any more help. I’m only a few feet
away.”

“Great. Thanks.”

The sound of his boots on the wood floor of the apartment was
softer than Grace would’ve expected, but his steps still echoed against the bare
walls. If she were the kind of person who had ever planned to stay in one place
more than six months, Grace knew what she would be thinking at this moment.
I’ll need to find something to put on these
walls.
Or at the very least, she would’ve been painting them some
warm and inviting color in her mind, and wondering where she could find some
rugs. Instead, she just took pleasure in the fact that the white paint was still
white and was marred by only a few nail holes.

At least she’d learned to appreciate the small things in life.
And the big things, like the sound of the door closing behind Cole Rawlins as he
finally left her alone.

“Whew,” Grace breathed, letting the air ease out of her lungs.
The place felt a lot bigger without him taking up all her space.

Okay, maybe a little too big. But without him here, she could
see the small ways that the apartment wasn’t quite like an old place in L.A. The
beautiful, dark wood window frame hadn’t been painted over, and instead of
miniblinds, there were white curtains. It also didn’t smell like roach
spray.

She strolled over to the window and pulled aside the curtains.
Here was another difference. Instead of a view of a parking lot or traffic or a
million other apartments, Grace was looking at a huge pine tree. Past that, she
had a view of the small street, and a green house with a yellow porch on the
other side of it. A snowmobile sat in the open garage.

Grace crinkled her nose at the strangeness of the sight. That
was something she’d never seen in L.A. Jet Skis, sure. But the snowmobile looked
like a real machine. It looked dangerous and powerful, gleaming black and red in
the sunlight. It looked…fun.

Too bad she’d be long gone by winter. She had to get to
Vancouver in six weeks and make some money, or she was going to be in even
bigger trouble than she was now. Way bigger.

* * *

C
OLE
GRABBED
A
C
OKE
and leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes on
his front door. That had been a surprise. Opening his door to find a raging
tornado of a city girl assaulting a stuffed duffel bag. Not at all what he’d
expected during his quick run home to shower and grab a sandwich after his half
day at the ranch.

The female voice in the hallway had caught his attention. The
female herself, spewing curses and kicking things? Whew.

That girl was going to be trouble. If the purple layers in her
dark, choppy hair didn’t make that clear, the hard glint in her eyes certainly
did. He knew that look. He’d seen it before. And despite his image as the
wholesome and friendly good ol’ cowboy, that look stirred something in him. It
was like a dare. A challenge.

And he did love a challenge.

Speaking of… She’d basically pushed him out the door, claiming
that she needed to find her aunt right away. But five minutes had passed and he
still hadn’t heard her leave. Rude little witch. It seemed like she’d taken his
attempts to help as some sort of insult.

He should’ve let her stand out in that hallway all afternoon,
trying to figure out how to get into an open apartment.

Cole imagined her increasing anger and frustration. That look
of hot rage he’d glimpsed when he’d opened his door to find out what the noise
was about. She hadn’t even been embarrassed. She’d just glared at him as if he
was intruding.

“Trouble,” he murmured as he finally gave up his vigil and
stood. Shane was waiting at the saloon to grab a beer, and Cole had nothing to
do until physical therapy the next day. He managed not to linger in the
entryway, but only because he figured he might see her at the Crooked R
soon.

He’d forgotten about this type of girl during the past decade.
But he was remembering everything now. The way they made his heart beat faster.
The way they seemed to dare him to act on his impulses. He’d once had a thing
for dangerous city girls. And he’d ended up in a bad way because of it.

He shoved the thought away as he walked into the saloon and
spotted Shane setting up a game of eight ball. “Hey,” he said as he grabbed a
cue.

“Hey. When are you getting your lazy ass back to work?”

Despite the rude words, Cole noticed the look of concern that
Shane shot him. He ignored it. “I’m part-time at the ranch now. It won’t be
long.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

Shane watched him for another long moment. “Good,” he finally
said. “Because I want my first-floor apartment back.”

“The stairs too much for you, old man?”

“You’re one to talk.” He gestured toward the table. “You want
to break?”

“Was that a joke about my leg?” Cole asked, but he was
immediately distracted by the door of the saloon opening. The flash of daylight
obscured the person, but as soon as it closed, he saw it was a blonde. No
black-and-purple hair in sight.

“You ready to play?” Shane asked.

Yeah, he was ready to play, but he wasn’t thinking about pool.
Instead he was thinking about his new neighbor.

“Hey, did you hear the news?”

Assuming Shane was talking about Grace, Cole just raised an
eyebrow and leaned over the table to break.

“There’s a big film production coming to town.”

Cole forced himself to pull the cue back as if those words
didn’t affect him. In fact, he managed to sink two balls with a perfect
break.

“You know anything about it?” Shane asked.

“Why would I?”

“I thought maybe you were going to go Hollywood again.”

Cole forced himself to smile, even though his mind was
spinning. That couldn’t be why Grace was here, could it? “That was a long time
ago,” he said calmly.

“Not that long ago,” Shane countered. “Ten years?”