Close Enough to Touch (Jackson Hole 1)

Sweetheart? Grace glanced down at her T-shirt. Yep. It still advertised an old L.A. burlesque club. “Just a street,” she said softly, hoping not to invite more questions.

“Which street?”

Grace cleared her throat and shifted, her gaze desperately boring into the map, hoping she could just find it herself. “Um, Sagebrush.”

“Sagebrush. That’s a long one. What’s the address?” The woman’s pink fingernail pointed toward the map, but it moved before Grace could register which street she was pointing to.

“Six-O-five West Sagebrush,” she said, sighing.

“Oh, that’s way over here!” The woman pointed again, and this time Grace saw it. A long line that meandered all the way through town and then followed the curve of a stream before it ended. It looked like quite a haul.

“Thank you,” Grace said. She folded the map and hefted her bag up, biting back a grunt as she worked the strap over her shoulder. “This way?” She tilted her head in the direction she thought she needed to go. She’d always been pretty good with that sort of thing.

“Yep!”

Grace took a deep breath and started walking. Her boots clomped on the wood.

“Oh, honey!”

Grace pretended she didn’t hear.

“Sweetie, stop! You can’t walk all that way.”

“I’m fine,” she called.

“But there’s a free bus!”

Her boots stopped clomping. “Free?”

“Totally free. In fact, it’ll stop right here in a few minutes. Comes every half hour.”

Grace turned back and eyed the woman suspiciously. “Will I have to go tour a new condo complex or something?”

“What? Oh, heavens no. It’s the town bus. It’ll stop just a few blocks from where you’re going. Six-O-five West Sagebrush. That’s the Stud Farm, isn’t it?”

“The what?” She dropped the bag. She’d heard tales that her great-aunt was a crazy old lady, but… “What?”

“Oh, never mind me.” The woman laughed. “That’s just a silly local nickname.”

“For what?”

“The building.”

Just as Grace was opening her mouth to demand a real answer, a hiss of brakes sounded from the curb. The bus had arrived, and she didn’t have time to get more information. She hauled up her bag, wrestled it onto her shoulder and jogged for the bus. As promised, there didn’t seem to be a fee. The driver glanced at her impatiently, and she felt a small jolt of comfort at that. The bus might be free, but the driver was just as jaded as every bus driver in L.A.

Slightly less suspicious, Grace took a seat close to the front so she wouldn’t have to haul the bag any farther, then dug the map back out to see which intersection she was looking for.

A few blocks later, the wooden walkways were replaced with cement, and the two-story buildings with front porches became less common. By the time they reached the right intersection, they’d passed a strip mall and a big grocery store. She felt slightly less disoriented as she grabbed the bellpull and hauled her bag down the steps.

She didn’t dare stop and look around as the bus pulled away. Her shoulders were already aching and the bag wasn’t getting any lighter, so she set off down the side street with her head down. Sagebrush was only four blocks down. No problem.

By the time she reached the next street, she was gasping for air. “Good Lord,” she muttered, stopping to take a few deep breaths. It didn’t help. Altitude, she reminded herself, finally giving in and setting the bag down. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on oxygen, and without the weight of the bag, she was breathing normally within a few moments.

Had she really thought she was going to walk all the way from the bus station to the apartment? Laughing at the image of herself crawling down the street with the bag balanced on her back, Grace opened her eyes and took a deeper breath.

“Mmm,” she hummed. The air smelled…nice. Really nice. Crisp and fresh and clean. Maybe she could live with less oxygen. Just for a little while. It wasn’t like she was going to stay in this ridiculous little town.

It was cute, though. The Old West part of town had morphed into a slightly Victorian feel. Little gingerbread houses, separated by the occasional 1960s ranch house. Grace had never lived in a small town before. Maybe it would be okay, temporarily.