Close Enough to Touch (Jackson Hole 1) - Page 25

Ah, shit. It didn’t matter, he told himself. It wasn’t like the movie industry had screwed him over and broken his heart. It had been a woman and his own poor judgment. And if Grace’s toughness

and edginess reminded him a little of his ex-lover—not to mention a few other women he’d met in L.A.—then he just needed to be aware. Aware that he shouldn’t trust people who hadn’t earned it. Aware that he shouldn’t let himself be used. Aware that sometimes strength meant hardness, and coolness was cruelty.

But right at this moment, Grace didn’t look hard or cool. Her brown eyes seemed lighter against the black liner this morning, but still fascinatingly deep. Unknowable. Which only made him more determined to know her. “Why’d you leave L.A.?” he pressed.

She shrugged one shoulder as if it didn’t matter to her in the least. “I got fired. I decided to move on.”

“Fired? What’d you do? Punch someone?”

“Not this time, no.”

Cole was glad he didn’t have any coffee in his mouth. He choked on nothing instead. “When did you last punch somebody?”

“At work? Probably five years ago.”

He looked down at her small, pale hands. They didn’t look like much, but she was wearing a couple of clunky rings that might do damage. “I had no idea Hollywood was a more glamorous version of a cage fight. Or a bunkhouse, come to think of it.”

“I don’t like it when men stick their hands up my skirt.”

“They do that often, do they?”

“Not after that,” she said with a grin.

He winked and turned away to finish off the eggs. What idiot would be stupid enough to try something like that? Grace Barrett looked like she’d shove a makeup brush up your ass if you touched her without invitation. Then again, he knew firsthand that some people in Hollywood were so arrogant and narcissistic that signals ceased to exist for them. A fist across the jaw was the most subtle thing they could understand.

“So this time?” he asked as he piled two plates high. “What happened this time?”

“I said I’d already eaten.”

Her words didn’t match up with the light in her eyes as he slid the plate toward her. He wanted to tell her she wasn’t in L.A. anymore and she could eat real food now. But he knew enough about women to lie. “I was already cooking. It’s the light plate today. Only three eggs and no toast.”

“You really do eat like a lumberjack,” she said, though she dug into her eggs right away.

“Lumberjacks are pussies.”

She slapped a hand to her mouth to cover her laugh, and that made Cole smile so hard he felt like a fool. It felt like triumph, making this girl laugh. Like a prize. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to make her moan. Damn.

“So what got you fired this time?” he pressed. He didn’t have to be told that she was an expert at dropping subjects. But she gave in more or less gracefully this time.

“I was working on a movie set. I’d been doing pretty well this year, trying to keep my head down.”

“No punching?”

“No punching. And I got an amazing gig, working on a big film. Working with the stars of a big film, not just the secondaries, you know? I won’t say who it is, but the starring actress is one of America’s sweethearts. And she seemed perfectly nice. Quiet. Polite. And with a couple of fading bruises on her neck. Whatever, though. People are kinky. If she liked a little choking during sex, it’s none of my business.”

Cole coughed and reached for his coffee as his eyes watered. “Sure,” he finally managed to say.

“But one day the producer came to the trailer while I was working on her. He was her boyfriend. It was an open secret. And she flinched when he gestured. That was it. Just a tiny flinch I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been working on her eyes. The next week, her lip was a little swollen. And when he came to the trailer and started berating her about something, I couldn’t keep myself from calling him on it.”

“The producer.”

She glared at him. “An abusive ass is an abusive ass.”

Cole raised a conciliatory hand. “I agree. I’m just impressed you were brave enough to say something.”

Grace snorted. “It’s not bravery. I don’t think about it. I just blow up. Anyway, I cursed him out and told him what I thought of him. He fired me immediately.”

“And?” he asked, aware of the weight in her words.

Tags: Victoria Dahl Jackson Hole Romance
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