Close Enough to Touch (Jackson Hole 1)

“Thank God. I need help. So I was thinking six, if that’s not too early for you.”

“Perfect. Should I bring anything?”

“Nope. I’m making lasagna, and Eve’s bringing wine, so I think we’re covered. Just bring makeup and your amazing skills.”

“Sure,” Grace agreed, but she was stopping for a cake anyway. She didn’t make new girlfriends often, and she wanted to do everything right.

Grace felt horribly nervous when she jumped into the shower to get ready. She was confident with men. She knew how to handle herself, she knew what they wanted. But women? Well, assuming they were straight, Grace was never sure what they were looking for.

She did her makeup very carefully, taking it a little softer with purples and deep gray. She wore her black jeans and a soft, off-the-shoulder blue sweater that made her look slightly more approachable than her other clothes. It was probably the most feminine thing she owned, and hopefully that would put Jenny and Eve at ease.

Stealing a look out the front window, she saw that Cole’s truck was still missing from the driveway, and wondered if it would be safe to sneak over to the saloon to ask Rayleen about a bakery.

But if Cole were at the saloon… The thought made her stomach lurch. She didn’t want to see him. The very idea of seeing him left her cold with dread.

That decided it. She wasn’t going to hide in her apartment all weekend, afraid of him. Afraid he’d try to explain. Afraid he’d reveal more and make it so much worse. She didn’t want to know. She just wanted to escape.

But if she was going to be here for another week or two, she’d have to face him.

Brave words, considering his truck wasn’t outside.

Grace grabbed her makeup kit and walked outside before the fear could take over again. “You taking your show on the road?” Rayleen shouted as soon as Grace walked in.

Grace shook her head as she walked to her aunt’s table in the corner. “Do you ever leave this place?”

“Not unless I have to.”

The chair in front of Grace slid an inch as if Rayleen had moved it with her foot.

“Am I allowed to sit down?” Grace asked. Rayleen shrugged as if she didn’t care, but the chair scooted out a little more, so Grace sat.

Rayleen nudged the kit Grace had put on the floor. “What’s in the toolbox?”

“It’s my makeup kit.”

“You working tonight?”

“No, I’m going over to Jenny’s. She wants a makeover.”

“Oh,” Rayleen muttered. “A girl’s night, huh? Poker would be better.”

“Maybe.”

“Are you good with that makeup stuff?”

“I’m pretty good,” Grace answered.

“Yeah? Well, I know your grandma’s proud of you.”

That surprised her. First, that her grandmother had said that. The only thing she’d ever said to Grace about it was that L.A. wasn’t a safe place for a young woman on her own. Second, she was surprised that Rayleen would repeat it. “Thank you for telling me.”

“The last time she visited, she brought two movies and made me watch the whole damn credit reel after each one, just because your name was there. Silliness, I say. You get paid for your work. I don’t see why you have to get a written thank-you, too.”

“She did that?”

“Sure. Damned obnoxious.”

Her grandmother wasn’t as hard as Aunt Rayleen, but she wasn’t exactly the kind of granny who baked cookies and offered them with an indulgent smile. She was supportive more than loving, and worried more than affectionate, but maybe that was how she showed love.