Close Enough to Touch (Jackson Hole 1)

“And bring their antlers?”

He grinned. “Something like that, yes.”

“Oh.” She didn’t leave. Her hand was still on the doorknob, but she just stood there looking thoughtful.

“Want to go for a drive? I’ll show you around. There’s a lot more to see than just the town, you know.”

She glanced in the direction of the Tetons, even though the blinds were closed.

“Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“Aren’t you busy?”

“Nope. I’m off work today, so it’s either you or laundry.”

“I win out over laundry, huh?”

“Only because I did a load last weekend. Otherwise it’d be laundry all the way.”

That relaxed her. An insult. That was what soothed her prickly stance and made her laugh. Another thing that set her apart from the women of his past. “Then I’d better take you up on it. I might not be so lucky next weekend, and I’ll go crazy if I stay cooped up any longer.”

“Come back when you’re ready, then.”

She was back in three minutes. Cole was still washing the dishes and shouted for her to come in.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed to help, right? People don’t cook for me very often. Let me…”

“Believe me. It’s no big deal. A lot easier than cleaning a stew pot on the trail, I can tell you that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, sounding as if the words scraped her throat as they came out.

“You can make me dinner sometime.”

She looked slightly panicked. “I hope you like sandwiches.”

“Peanut butter?” he asked.

Grace’s cheeks flamed red. “I haven’t had time for a real shopping trip,” she said sharply.

Yikes. “I was just kidding.”

She crossed her arms and wandered over to look at the books on his coffee table. By the time Cole dried his hands, her cheeks had faded to pink. He was glad he hadn’t been standing next to her and made a note to himself that she had some sort of peanut butter trigger. Maybe peanut butter was her secret high-calorie indulgence. If he was going to piss her off—and he wasn’t averse to that—he wanted it to be over something worthwhile.

“Ready?” he asked.

She put down the book she’d been looking at, but her eyes stayed on it.

“You like horror novels? I’m done with that if you want to read it.”

“Yeah?” She picked it back up again and opened it to the first page. “Was it good?”

“His best in years.”

“Okay, sure. Thanks.” She slipped it into her purse and shrugged her jacket on. “I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I read fast.”