Close Enough to Touch

“Just getting back in the swing of things,” Cole said. “And maybe all that snoring from your place upstairs is keeping me awake.”

“I don’t snore. At least, your mama never said anything about it.”

“Really?” Cole asked, forcing his shoulders to relax as he leaned against the bar. “A your-mama joke, huh?”

Shane tipped his beer. “I know how to bring it.”

“That’s not what my mama said.”

“Touché.” Shane signaled for another beer, but Cole held up his hand to let Jenny know that he wasn’t joining in. It was only four o’clock, and he was so damn tired. If he had another beer, he’d go home and fall asleep. And he knew from experience that meant he’d wake up around midnight and not get another wink the rest of the night.

The two beers ensured his anger wouldn’t quite bubble over, anyway. He was too tired and too relaxed. But he couldn’t believe the way Easy was acting. The man knew how much the work meant to Cole. Jesus.

He needed to get back out there. For the money, yes. For his savings and his plans and dreams. But he also needed to get his life back.

For the past nine months he’d been a patient. Doing nothing but reading and watching TV and waiting to get back to work. And now he was so damn close, and the one person in the world who’d always supported him was blocking his way.

Jenny came to take the cash he set down. “You sure you’re okay, Cole?” she asked quietly.

He smiled at Jenny and offered a wink. “I’m good.”

“You’re quiet, is what you are. That’s not like you.”

“Come around the bar and I’ll slap you on the ass. Will that make you happy?”

“Nah.” She laughed. “But I bet it would brighten your day.”

“Damn straight.”

When he stood to leave, hiding his wince, Jenny patted his hand. “Take it easy out there, all right? I don’t want you falling off a horse again and rebreaking that leg.”

“I didn’t fall off a horse,” he growled. “It fell and pinned me.”

“Fell?” Shane interrupted. “I hear that horse went down so slow it looked like a dog taking a seat. I don’t know why you didn’t get out of the way.”

Cole elbowed him hard enough that some of Shane’s beer sloshed out of the mug. “You weren’t even there.”

“Pretty sure I’m right, though.”

“Hey, Cole,” Jenny said as he turned away. “There’s a big group of Hollywood people in town up at Teton. You know any of them?”

Cole made sure he didn’t stiffen. “Why would I?” he asked with a deliberately puzzled smile.

“You lived out there for a while, didn’t you? You were in a movie, even. Some Western?”

“That was a long time ago, Jenny. And nobody lasts in Hollywood. Anybody I knew is long gone by now.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Jenny sighed. “I just think it’d be neat to meet someone famous. Nobody cool ever comes in here.”

“Hey,” Shane responded. “What about me?”

She slapped Shane with her towel and winked at Cole. “Bye, then. Have a good evening.”

“I will.”

Hollywood people. He felt another moment of anxiety as he stepped out of the saloon and into the blindingly bright day. But it was the pure, nearly painful light of a Jackson summer, not that hazy, hot sun of L.A. He had nothing to fear from those people. The disaster he’d made of his life in California…he was the only one who could take credit for that.

CHAPTER SIX

SHE WAS SO DAMN QUIET over there.

Shouldn’t a girl like her be loud? Stomping around. Cursing. Slamming doors. Playing music at all hours of the night.

But Grace Barrett was like a mouse. All he ever heard was the occasional noise of water running in the bathroom. At least if she were banging around at 2:00 a.m., he’d have something to think about instead of staring at the ceiling for… Cole glanced at the clock. Five hours. It was just after seven. He’d never gotten back to sleep.

He heard a board creak on the other side of the wall and cocked his head. Water ran through the pipes.

Grace was up, it was seven o’clock on a Sunday and he had no plans and a hell of a long day to fill. Maybe she needed something to do, too.

Cole braced himself for that first deep jolt of pain when he pushed himself from bed. He’d been cutting back on ibuprofen for the past few weeks, but now he had to admit that this wasn’t the time. He’d have to get back to the prescription-strength pills for a little while. Just while his body adjusted to working again. His physical therapist was still trying to push muscle relaxants to let him get some sleep at night, but Cole wasn’t going to touch them. He was doing the stretching now. Doing everything he was told to do. When that didn’t help, he just dealt with it.

Like this morning, when the ache in his leg was spreading up through his hip to his back and digging in there like a rabid badger.

Jesus, he was only thirty-four. He had another forty years of injuries ahead of him. If he got back to riding. If he could still be a cowboy. If not…

No, he wasn’t going to think that way. He’d get through this and move on. Soon enough, he’d be past it. It’d be a distant bad memory.

He turned the shower up to scalding, then stood there with his head down for as long as he could take it.

Half an hour later, he knocked on Grace’s door. A tiny glimmer of light caught his eye, and he noticed that she’d scraped the paint off the peephole in the door. The light darkened. He smiled and mouthed “Good morning.”

She yanked the door open a moment later. “Hey,” she said, her voice still sleepy.

Cole took her in for a moment. She was already wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Her feet were bare again, blue toenails in such stark contrast to her white toes. His eyes wandered back up. The T-shirt was rumpled and worn. And intriguingly tight.

Cole cleared his throat. She was always smaller than he expected. Petite and almost delicate-looking. Small breasts. Hips that—

She crossed her arms as if she were cold. “Dude. Hello.”

“Have you had breakfast?” He looked past her toward the kitchen. No coffeepot. Nothing but a jar of peanut butter with a plastic knife sticking out of it.

“Yes.”

Wow. These L.A. girls really didn’t eat much. No wonder she looked so small. He could never understand how women starved themselves. He couldn’t go more than a few hours without grabbing at least a snack.

“What about coffee?” He seemed to remember plenty of coffee drinking in Hollywood. And smoking. And there were always calories available for martinis.

“Um. Not yet.”