Close Enough to Touch (21 page)

When he needed to feel her hands on him, he let her wrists go,
grunting when she grabbed his ass and dug her nails in. “Yes,” she urged. “Yes,
yes.”

He wanted to come right then. His body screamed with it. But he
needed her to come. Needed it like air. Needed to feel her jerk beneath him.
Needed to hear her scream. She hated to give him anything, which only made it
sweeter when he finally felt her go taut beneath him.

“God. Oh, God. Cole. I… Ah!” She screamed then, her pussy
squeezing him as she dragged her nails up his back.

“Ah, fuck,” he breathed as the pain twisted around his pleasure
and sank him deep into his own orgasm. He thrust hard, over and over. By the
time he came back to himself, all he could hear was Grace panting into his ear.
He smiled weakly and rose up to his elbows to kiss her.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a deep breath. “Did I hurt
you?”

“Yes. Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“Good.” He kissed her nose and rolled off, sinking into his
mattress as if it were made of down instead of cheap springs and foam. His back
burned. “I’m worried you’re going to fuck me to death one of these nights.”

“I might,” she purred, a smile in her voice.

“Good,” he said again. He looked over to find her lying there,
smiling, her eyes closed and her face peaceful. He’d thought he might never move
again, but he found the will to turn to his side and kiss her jaw. “You’re so
beautiful.”

She opened one eye, then closed it again. “Nice try. You
already told me I wasn’t.”

“I was wrong,” he murmured, breathing in the scent of her warm
skin. “Totally, utterly wrong.”

“Spoken like a man who just had an amazing orgasm.”

“Damn straight.” He got up to go to the bathroom to clean up,
then shucked his jeans before he got back into bed. When he felt the press of
her whole naked body against his, Cole sighed and closed his eyes. Something
about her relaxed him. The sex, obviously, but not just that. He felt peaceful
with her, which made no sense. She was so tense and prickly and combative.
Though not now. Right now, her body melted into his.

Her hand touched his hip. “Does it hurt?”

“Not at the moment.”

Her fingers traced the lines which had finally faded from red
to a sick pink. “But usually?”

“It depends. Sometimes I don’t notice it. But at night, it
aches like a bad tooth.”

“God, it must’ve hurt when it happened. I’ve only broken my
hand. And a couple of toes.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “Let me
guess. A punch that landed badly? And, of course, kicking things that pissed you
off?”

“No!” She jerked her hand away, but she was laughing. “Okay,
maybe one of the toes had something to do with my bad temper. But the hand
wasn’t my fault. I got knocked down at a club and reached out to catch myself.
I’m not sure if it was the landing or the boot on my hand that broke it.”

“Nice club,” he murmured.

“I could tell you some stories.”

He put his hand to her waist, aware of the way her breath
hitched a little. He propped his head up on his hand so he could watch her face
as he spread his fingers over her skin. “But you won’t tell me, will you?”

“No,” she said, not a hint of tension in her voice, just
honesty.

Sliding his fingers down over her hip, he covered half her
tattoo with his hand, then pushed slowly back up over the stark shape of the
black tree. The tips of its branches stretched up her ribs, coming to a stop
just below her heart. His thumb brushed the bottom of her small breast.

“Will you tell me about the tattoo now?”

“Why would I?”

“Because I want to know. Because I care what it means.”

“It’s just a tree,” she said, sighing.

“It’s black and bare. Cold. Or dead. Which one?”

She sighed again, then finally opened her eyes to look up at
him. The weary black of her gaze was almost as dark as the ink of her tattoo,
but so much deeper. “I don’t know.”

“You must know.”

“I don’t. Maybe it’s dead. Maybe it’s bare for the winter, just
waiting to wake up and live again. But…maybe not. Nothing much has changed in
the five years since I got it.”

“It’s not right, then,” he said. “That’s not you. You’re not
cold and dead.”

“You sound awfully sure for a man who hardly knows me.”

“I know you well enough to see your heat. You’re alive and
fighting and strong.”

He watched her throat work as she swallowed several times, then
her face tipped slowly away from him. She stared into the dimness of his room as
if there were a movie playing on the other wall. Finally, she shook her head.
“Anger isn’t strength. It isn’t even living.” She added a moment later, “It’s
like stars.”

He slid his hand up, over her breast and her beating heart and
her beautiful neck. He smoothed her hair back, but she didn’t look toward him
again. “What do you mean? What about the stars?”

“People look at them and see something beautiful. Something
alive and bright.” Her voice had gone so flat that he felt a momentary fear.
“But it’s just old light. Old and dead. Some of those stars aren’t even there
anymore, did you know that? You think they’re alive and shining, but they died a
long time ago. There’s nothing there.”

“Jesus, Grace. That’s not you.”

“It might be. I’m not sure. But I have to find out. I thought I
was tough when I ran away from home. I thought I’d seen it all and I could
handle anything. But at sixteen, I was still too alive. I could still feel it
all.”

Cole realized his heart was beating harder. “What are you
saying? You could feel what?”

When she finally looked at him, it had gotten too dark in the
room to see much, but he thought he caught a glimmer of tears in her eyes. Grace
laughed. “Nothing. I think I’m drunk.”

“Grace. You could feel what? Were you hurt?”

She shook her head. When he tried to brush a hand over her
cheek, she batted it away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. You were just a girl. If you were hurt
or raped or—”

“I was living on the streets. Of course bad things happened. To
me and everyone else I knew. There were no doors to lock, and you can’t call the
police when you’re a runaway. But at least when you’re drunk or high, it fades.
It doesn’t matter. And eventually, you don’t feel it anymore. It’s the only way
to keep going.”

“Grace, I…”

“At least I got out alive. Some of us didn’t. I try to feel
grateful for that, but now…I don’t even know what I want to feel anymore, but
something’s got to change.”

Turning her face away, she fell into silence. Cole’s chest
ached, as if there was breath stuck and he couldn’t make his lungs work. But he
was breathing just fine. He took a deep breath and another, trying to ease the
tightness.

“I can’t keep going like this,” she whispered, “but what if I’m
just old, dead light? What if it’s only anger in there, making me seem
alive?”

“You’re alive, Grace.” He kissed her forehead, then her nose,
her wet cheek. “You have a right to be angry, but that’s not all there is. Do
you think anger makes me want to touch you this way?” He smoothed her hair back
again, kissed her cheek, then her ear.

“That’s not the only way you touch me.”

“Oh,” he said as all the air left his lungs. “That’s not—”

“I know. And it’s good. It’s what I need. That’s my point.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not usually like that. If you don’t want me
to—”

“I do want you to. You know that.”

“But if it reminds you of something bad… If it—”

“It doesn’t,” she said quickly. “I left all that behind. And I
can’t be soft, but I have to find some way to
bend.
”

Cole didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to take back
something they both wanted, but it killed him to think he might hurt her in ways
he hadn’t realized. “You’re soft right now,” he whispered as the room finally
went fully dark. “The softest thing I’ve ever felt.” She was. Her skin was hot
beneath his hand, her limbs a languid line against him, and everywhere he
touched was like silk.

“That’s old light, Cole,” she murmured.

“No. No, it’s not. It’s new. It’s for me.”

Whatever she said, he knew that was true. In public she was on
guard, a bundle of tension and wariness and sharp claws. But in his bed,
afterward, she was small and soft and warm. And so vulnerable it made him hurt
for her. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

“What were you like as a kid?” he asked.

“Me? I don’t know. Skinny and wary and restless. What about
you?”

“Skinny and loud and covered in dirt.”

She laughed. “I bet.”

“So you’re still skinny and wary and restless. Nothing’s
changed. You haven’t gone supernova.”

“You, on the other hand… You’re not skinny and loud
anymore.”

“But I am filthy.”

“Yes, you do still have that.”

They subsided into comfortable silence for a while, the
darkness settling around them. It was only ten, but he was already sinking into
that weightless space between wakefulness and sleep when she spoke again. “I’m
ready to change. To give myself a chance. I need to start over and make a life
for myself. Settle down and stop running away. Stop living like I don’t have
anything valuable to lose.”

The thought that she might stop fighting him and they could see
where this might lead… Cole would never say it to her or anyone else, but that
seemed like something he could hold on to. Something that might see him through
the next few weeks.

She was so damn strong. She’d been through a hell of a lot more
than he had, and she was still going, still fighting the world. But maybe he
could help her leave the battle behind. At least with him.

He’d never tell anyone else she was soft. He’d keep that secret
safe. He’d even let her pretend she didn’t need anything but sex. But there was
no mistaking the way she curled into him. Or the way she sighed when he pulled
her closer still.

Grace Barrett was soft for him, and getting softer every
minute. He didn’t want to go to sleep and miss it. “You want to watch TV? A
movie? Anything?”

Her eyes opened. “What do you have?”

“Darlin’, I was on bed rest for quite a while. I have
everything. Cable, pay-per-view, Netflix, some sort of streaming contraption.
You name it, I’ve got it.”

She watched him for a long moment, and then she smiled. “Do you
think you can get
The Outsiders?
”

“Is that a movie?”

“Only the best movie ever made. Assuming you like rumbles and
hair grease. You’ve never seen it?”

He shrugged and grabbed the remote. “Nope.”

Grace bounced up to her knees, a grin taking over her face.
“All right, cowboy. You find the movie. And I’ll…” Before he realized what she
was doing, she raised her hand and smacked his naked ass. Hard. “I’ll find some
snacks. Do you have popcorn?”

“Jesus!” He rubbed a hand over the sting.

“What? I thought that was how you dismounted around these
parts.” Laughing, she walked naked toward his kitchen, flashing a smile over her
shoulder that Cole would never forget. If he had anything to say about it, he’d
make her smile like that every day from now on.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

G
RACE
WOKE
TO
AN
OMINOUS
SKY
.
She was in her own
bed, at least, despite having fallen asleep at Cole’s place during the movie.
She’d snuck out at two, when she’d woken up dying of thirst and still a little
drunk.

She wasn’t sure exactly how many beers she’d had. She’d been
nervous and stressed and angry. Four, maybe. Or six, counting the ones at
Cole’s.

Whatever the number, it had been too many, because she’d
blabbed about her life as if she’d been on a therapist’s couch. God. And all
that
after
she’d begged him to fuck her.

As good as the sex had been, her face flamed at the memory.
God, he must have loved that. Did he like her just because he wanted to see if
he could break her down like that? Because it was a challenge to make the tough
girl whimper and moan?

Grace stared at the lead-gray sky she could see from her air
mattress. There were curtains in the bedroom, but they weren’t long enough, so
whoever had hung them—Rayleen, probably—had just positioned the little
spring-loaded curtain rod six inches beneath the top of the window frame. She
had privacy, but not a lot of protection from the morning light. Grace couldn’t
decide if it was ingenious or the tackiest thing she’d ever seen. After a few
minutes, she decided on ingenious. After all, rich people paid a lot of money
for those top-down blinds and got the exact same results. This was practically
like living in Beverly Hills.

Despite her bad mood, Grace laughed at that as she crawled to
the edge of the air mattress and dismounted. She was low to the ground, but the
thing was as wobbly as a water bed, and she wasn’t quite at full strength yet.
At least she’d had the brains to drink a huge glass of water when she’d returned
to her apartment, or she’d be nursing a serious headache, instead of just a case
of embarrassment.

“This time,” she whispered to herself, “you’re really not doing
that again. Even if he is the best sex you’ve ever had.” And he was, damn it. He
really was. And if she didn’t like him at all, she’d probably go ahead and
indulge for the next few weeks. Scratch that itch until she left. But she did
like him. He was sweet and strong and likable. The kind of guy she’d think about
really dating if she were going to be around for a while. If he weren’t a
cowboy. And if they had anything in common besides the sex. But she wasn’t going
to be around for long, and they were nothing alike. And frankly, she wasn’t even
sure he liked her. Oh, he liked the sex. He was a man, after all. But men didn’t
fuck nice girls that way.

He took her the way she deserved to be taken. It was rough and
brutal and intense. It was good. But it wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle. Thank
God. It was just what she wanted. But it wasn’t the way you made love to someone
you liked.

By the time she showered and dressed and left for the bus stop,
the sky seemed to have fallen lower. She ducked her head against a few raindrops
and wondered if she was about to get the day off. The clouds looked really
nasty. A sick gray-green she’d never seen in the sky in L.A., like something
straight out of the Weather Channel. Maybe she was going to see her first
tornado. The idea both thrilled her and scared her half to death, but she kept
her head down and waited for the bus. Still, by the time it dropped her off near
the studio, the air was so charged Grace found herself jogging down the wooden
walkway, the hair on her arms standing on end.

“Hey!” she said too loudly when she burst through the door.
“Are we going to the site today?”

“Sure,” Eve said, frowning at her laptop. “Why not?”

“There’s a big storm.” She gestured toward the windows.

“Oh, that’ll blow over any minute.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep, look how fast the clouds are moving.”

She edged back to the window and cast a doubtful eye toward the
sky above the restaurant across the street. The clouds were scuttling pretty
quickly past the roofline. “I don’t know,” she murmured.

“Come on. By the time we get out there, it’ll be blue skies.
First the river location, then the ranch. I’m doing final framing shots.
Normally preproduction would take care of all of it, but with this much CGI,
they want backup. It’s half science, half art, and lots and lots of panoramic
shots. You up for being my assistant?”

“Sure.”

Eve’s usual habit was to put on music when she drove, and today
was no exception. She was quiet. Quieter than most women, but she sometimes
forgot Grace was there and sang softly along with the music. She had a beautiful
voice, husky and soothing. It matched her eyes, somehow.

“You don’t have to come on Sunday,” Grace said. “If you’re
uncomfortable with the idea.”

“Uncomfortable?” She turned down the music. “Why would I be
uncomfortable?”

“After what happened. I’m sure you didn’t want to say anything
to Jenny.”

“Grace, I don’t know that production girl from Adam.”

“You don’t know me either.”

“No, but you’ve never given me a reason not to trust you.”

Grace suddenly felt guilty. Or maybe she just wanted to start
cutting her ties. “I’m not planning on staying in Jackson. Not for more than a
few weeks. Maybe less.”

“Ah. Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. But a lot of people say
that when they move here. Even I did.”

“You’re not from here?” Grace asked.

“No. I moved here from Oklahoma when I was twenty-eight. I
thought I’d be here for a ski season, then I’d move on to a real life somewhere.
Settle down.”

“But you never settled down? I mean, you don’t have kids,
right? You’re not married?”

“No,” she said, simply. “Never. But I guess I’m settled after
all.”

There was a story there. Grace could feel it, swelling beneath
the surface, but Eve didn’t so much as offer a glance of warning. She just
stared straight ahead at the road, her hands loose and relaxed on the steering
wheel. Whatever it was, Eve had no urge to share it. No need to get it out. She
kept it close on purpose.

She’d meant to move on and she’d never left, and now she was
settled by default. Grace wouldn’t make that same mistake.

“I’ve got a makeup gig in Vancouver,” she said. “In five weeks.
The local film industry is pretty vibrant.”

“You know people there?”

“No. No one. Someone called a friend and set up this job. I
don’t actually have anyone there.” Which was just the way she wanted it. “I
thought, if everything works out well between us while I’m here, could I use you
as a reference? I might look into working with a scout. It’s been really
interesting. I think being in a trailer all day makes me grumpy.”

Eve laughed. “I can imagine. You’re quick. I think you thrive
on action.”

“Maybe,” she said, realizing it was true even as she spoke. She
was good at makeup. She was great with it. But maybe that wasn’t the only
important thing.

“Definitely,” Eve said. “I can tell, because I’d much rather be
locked up in my office, working on proofs.”

“Huh.” How had she never considered this before? That maybe her
gift was a curse, keeping her locked in a small trailer for weeks at a time, in
close proximity to the exact types of people she liked least. The production
team was one thing. Some assistants and creative types were hard to deal with,
but the equipment guys and preproduction crew were as varied as any other
population. But in the trailer, it was the talent and the bigwigs, and the
gossipy types that made them all beautiful. Sometimes she felt as if she was
going to explode. Sometimes she did.

But this work, being outside, working with locals and the
people who did the strong work on the set—it felt so much more natural. Maybe
she’d just have to work her makeup skills on friends and extras.

“You think I could do this? Every day?” she asked Eve.

“Absolutely. You seem very sure of yourself. People like that.
Of course, if you go to Vancouver, you’ll have to work your way up the totem
pole. It could be lean for a couple of years.”

“I think I can handle that.”

“I bet you can.”

“Did you always know you wanted to be a photographer?”

Eve smiled and shook her head. “No. I played at it for a while,
but I majored in business in college. I figured photography wasn’t a real job—it
was a hobby. But after college, I wasn’t very inspired by my life. I worked in
real estate, then banking. When my company was bought out, I was laid off, and I
decided I needed to take a little time to figure things out.”

“And you ended up here? I always thought people went to L.A.,
but maybe Jackson is the second stop on the road of confusion.”

Eve laughed. “Maybe.”

“So what happened?”

“I got a job at an art gallery here in town. It’s gone now. The
owners moved away. But one of them was a photographer. He convinced me I had
real skill and I deserved to give myself a chance to do something I loved.”

“And you did it. That’s pretty amazing.”

She nodded. “I did it.”

“So you’re happy you stayed?”

“Yes,” Eve answered. “I’m happy.” But her words were stiff with
logic instead of light with joy. Did she wish she’d moved on? Was her gift also
a curse?

Grace was thinking about asking more, but Eve leaned over and
turned up the music, though she smiled as if to prove she wasn’t trying to avoid
the conversation. She needn’t have bothered. Grace could respect a woman who
liked to keep her problems to herself. She’d never understood people who wore
their pain like a medal, showing it off to anyone who met their eyes. How could
you want people to know your hurt? That only taught them what your weak spots
were. Why not just draw an X over your heart and ask the world to take its best
shot?

So Grace let the music fill the car and watched the mountains
slide past as they drove toward the narrow dirt road that led to the river. She
watched the sky, and just like magic, the clouds eventually slid on after only
the sparest of rain showers. Their departure revealed a painfully blue sky,
surrounded by the dark horizon of the storm.

God, the place really was beautiful. The whole valley of
Jackson Hole was just one amazing sight after another. She wondered what it
would look like in winter when it was deep under snow and frozen through.
Beautiful and frighteningly stark, she imagined. She’d seen snow, but she’d
never lived in it. How strange to have to bundle up and dare the ice every
single day.

She supposed she’d find out in Vancouver, but it wouldn’t be
like this: isolated and brutal. Maybe she’d come back in the winter sometime to
visit. To see people who could’ve been old friends if she’d stayed long enough.
Maybe even hook up with Cole if they were both unattached.

Her heart swelled at the thought of seeing him a couple of
years from now. The sweetness of it. The anticipation. But it hurt, too. She
didn’t know why. It hurt to think of those years passing.

Frowning, she turned her head away from Eve and watched the
golden meadows slide by her window. She wanted to see the elk, she thought, when
they came down in the winter. She wanted to know what that looked like.

But not this year. Some other time, far from now, when
everything was better.

* * *

S
HE
’
D
RUN
AWAY
AGAIN
.
But that was fine. If that was what she needed to
feel safe, Cole could live with that. It would only make it that much better
when she finally woke up and turned toward him instead of trying to escape. And
she would. Soon. He was sure of it.

Still, he kept an eye out for Eve’s car all morning. Last
night, Grace had pulled away from him, throwing insults when he hurt her
feelings. But when he’d revealed his uncertainty about his leg, she’d reached
out. Sure, she’d say it was just sex, but it had been comfort. Hard as she was,
she didn’t like to see other people hurt.

What had she said about Rayleen and Easy?
I think it’s sweet.
Sweet to watch two lonely people together, when
she couldn’t even admit to being lonely herself.

God, he wanted to take care of her.

Then again, he shouldn’t think like that. At this point, he
couldn’t even take care of himself. Or the ranch. Or any of his
responsibilities.

A young hand who’d been sent to the corral to retrieve
Madeline’s horse returned, and Cole saddled it. She wanted another ride to try
to find the perfect place for a nighttime-sky shot. One of the monsters could
fly, apparently. “She’s a good rider,” he explained to Jeremy, “but try to keep
her under control. She tends to take more risks than she should.”

“Got it,” Jeremy replied, dusting off his jeans and tucking in
his shirttail. This boy was her new cowboy toy, maybe. He was young. Nineteen or
twenty. Agreeable and enthusiastic. She liked that.

Cole didn’t feel any twinge of jealousy, but he felt a little
bitter, remembering when he’d been young like that. Stupid and carefree.
Invincible.

He caught sight of a vehicle coming down the drive and turned
over the reins of the pinto to Jeremy. But it wasn’t Eve’s car. It was a big
silver pickup with a logo painted on the side. The Idaho animal handler they’d
been waiting for since yesterday. He’d bring in horses for the actual film
shoot. Trained ponies who’d do exactly what Madeline wanted.

Cole smiled without any amusement as he walked over to meet the
handler. It was his job to show the guy around and work with what he might need
for the shoot.

Two hours later, he’d dealt with the handler, approved
locations for fake fencing to be put up that wouldn’t interfere with the
day-to-day operations of the ranch, and rescued a production assistant from an
angry rooster.