Close Enough to Touch (Jackson Hole 1)

“Yeah,” she huffed. “And that usually deters men, right? How’s your leg?”

He pressed his hand to his thigh automatically, then realized he hadn’t thought about it once since the moment he’d seen Grace sitting at the bar. He hadn’t even thought about it when he’d taken a seat, and usually he had to concentrate on not wincing. “Great,” he answered, telling the lie he always told.

“Back to normal?”

“Just about.”

“Well, you look tired.”

Truth be told, he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in nine months. His leg and hip throbbed every time he closed his eyes. “I’m back at the ranch now.”

“Speaking of…” Jenny said, raising her chin toward the door.

Cole turned and narrowed his eyes against the daylight. The shaft of light narrowed as the door closed, and Easy was walking toward him. Though the man was only sixty-five, he looked closer to seventy. He was still lean and wiry, but all those years under the open sky had weathered his skin and turned his crew cut silvery-blond. His pale eyes locked on Cole and he glared.

“Were you out at the ranch today?” he demanded.

Ah, shit. Cole stood up and set his beer on the bar. He wouldn’t lie to Easy, so he kept his mouth shut and crossed his arms.

“Damn it, Cole! You know what the doctor said.”

Quiet fell around them. Cole tipped his head. “Let’s talk outside.”

“We’re not talking about anything. Come in on Tuesday. You’re taking Monday off.”

“Goddamn it,” Cole snarled. “I can handle it. I’m doing fine.”

“What you’re doing is fooling yourself. But you’re not fooling me. If you don’t do what—”

“I get that, all right? I’m not a child, Easy. Let me do it the way I need to.”

“Tuesday,” Easy said. “And if it happens again, I’ll do the same thing.”

Christ. This was outrageous. Easy walked away, though he paused to tip his hat to Rayleen on the way out. Cole glared, but he let Easy go without cursing him out for being a mother hen instead of a ranch boss.

Easy cared about him. He knew that. But Cole knew his body and what he could handle. Sure, his thigh hurt. And now his back and his hip, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Lounge around in bed? It all hurt there, too. May as well make himself useful. And he needed to get back in shape. Quick.

He had insurance that had paid for the surgery and hospitalization. But half the physical therapy was coming out of his pocket. Not to mention rent and food and drugs. He had the money to cover it, but that money was supposed to be locked up in a safe for the day he bought Easy’s ranch. He’d finally saved up enough, but every month out of work was one step backward. Cole wanted to be ready the moment Easy said he was ready to sell.

If his leg hadn’t quite healed yet, it could heal on the job. Hell, how many old cowboys did he know who limped around for forty years? Easy himself was a damned pile of old breaks and busted-up joints, and he could barely sit in a saddle for an hour. That was the way it went for old cowboys.

“Maybe you’re pushing too hard,” Shane said, interrupting Cole’s internal diatribe.

Cole pressed his lips together.

“You were looking better last week. Now you look tired.”

“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 wa