Close Enough to Touch (Jackson Hole 1)

The sound of his boots on the wood floor of the apartment was softer than Grace would’ve expected, but his steps still echoed against the bare walls. If she were the kind of person who had ever planned to stay in one place more than six months, Grace knew what she would be thinking at this moment. I’ll need to find something to put on these walls. Or at the very least, she would’ve been painting them some warm and inviting color in her mind, and wondering where she could find some rugs. Instead, she just took pleasure in the fact that the white paint was still white and was marred by only a few nail holes.

At least she’d learned to appreciate the small things in life. And the big thin

gs, like the sound of the door closing behind Cole Rawlins as he finally left her alone.

“Whew,” Grace breathed, letting the air ease out of her lungs. The place felt a lot bigger without him taking up all her space.

Okay, maybe a little too big. But without him here, she could see the small ways that the apartment wasn’t quite like an old place in L.A. The beautiful, dark wood window frame hadn’t been painted over, and instead of miniblinds, there were white curtains. It also didn’t smell like roach spray.

She strolled over to the window and pulled aside the curtains. Here was another difference. Instead of a view of a parking lot or traffic or a million other apartments, Grace was looking at a huge pine tree. Past that, she had a view of the small street, and a green house with a yellow porch on the other side of it. A snowmobile sat in the open garage.

Grace crinkled her nose at the strangeness of the sight. That was something she’d never seen in L.A. Jet Skis, sure. But the snowmobile looked like a real machine. It looked dangerous and powerful, gleaming black and red in the sunlight. It looked…fun.

Too bad she’d be long gone by winter. She had to get to Vancouver in six weeks and make some money, or she was going to be in even bigger trouble than she was now. Way bigger.

* * *

COLE GRABBED A COKE and leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes on his front door. That had been a surprise. Opening his door to find a raging tornado of a city girl assaulting a stuffed duffel bag. Not at all what he’d expected during his quick run home to shower and grab a sandwich after his half day at the ranch.

The female voice in the hallway had caught his attention. The female herself, spewing curses and kicking things? Whew.

That girl was going to be trouble. If the purple layers in her dark, choppy hair didn’t make that clear, the hard glint in her eyes certainly did. He knew that look. He’d seen it before. And despite his image as the wholesome and friendly good ol’ cowboy, that look stirred something in him. It was like a dare. A challenge.

And he did love a challenge.

Speaking of… She’d basically pushed him out the door, claiming that she needed to find her aunt right away. But five minutes had passed and he still hadn’t heard her leave. Rude little witch. It seemed like she’d taken his attempts to help as some sort of insult.

He should’ve let her stand out in that hallway all afternoon, trying to figure out how to get into an open apartment.

Cole imagined her increasing anger and frustration. That look of hot rage he’d glimpsed when he’d opened his door to find out what the noise was about. She hadn’t even been embarrassed. She’d just glared at him as if he was intruding.

“Trouble,” he murmured as he finally gave up his vigil and stood. Shane was waiting at the saloon to grab a beer, and Cole had nothing to do until physical therapy the next day. He managed not to linger in the entryway, but only because he figured he might see her at the Crooked R soon.

He’d forgotten about this type of girl during the past decade. But he was remembering everything now. The way they made his heart beat faster. The way they seemed to dare him to act on his impulses. He’d once had a thing for dangerous city girls. And he’d ended up in a bad way because of it.

He shoved the thought away as he walked into the saloon and spotted Shane setting up a game of eight ball. “Hey,” he said as he grabbed a cue.

“Hey. When are you getting your lazy ass back to work?”

Despite the rude words, Cole noticed the look of concern that Shane shot him. He ignored it. “I’m part-time at the ranch now. It won’t be long.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

Shane watched him for another long moment. “Good,” he finally said. “Because I want my first-floor apartment back.”

“The stairs too much for you, old man?”

“You’re one to talk.” He gestured toward the table. “You want to break?”

“Was that a joke about my leg?” Cole asked, but he was immediately distracted by the door of the saloon opening. The flash of daylight obscured the person, but as soon as it closed, he saw it was a blonde. No black-and-purple hair in sight.

“You ready to play?” Shane asked.

Yeah, he was ready to play, but he wasn’t thinking about pool. Instead he was thinking about his new neighbor.

“Hey, did you hear the news?”