Victoria Dahl - Close Enough to Touch

One stupid mistake on top of all those others, and ten years of progress had vanished in a snap.

Fuck.

Her beer wasn’t quite finished, but Grace was. She stood, meaning to rush out, but as she turned, her head swam as though the floor was tilting beneath her. “Oh,” she breathed, reaching toward the large shoulder that entered her blurry vision.

“Careful, darlin’,” a deep voice said.

“Sorry. I…” She blinked and her vision cleared. And there was Cole, smiling at her, his eyes shaded by an honest-to-goodness cowboy hat. Or maybe all cowboys looked alike.

“Grace? You okay?”

Yeah, it was definitely him. She jerked her hand away and stood straight. “I’m fine.”

“More than fine, I’d say.”

“I’m not drunk! I only had one beer.” And a tequila shot.

“It’s the altitude. You’ve got to be careful.”

“I’m fine,” she protested, even though she wasn’t sure. She did feel awfully tipsy. Maybe it was the altitude. Or maybe it was that she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Or had a drink in weeks.

Damn. She was drunk.

“You look great,” Cole said, his eyes traveling quickly down her body.

She was suddenly glad she was wearing her heeled boots. They gave her four extra inches of leg. But what did that matter? She wasn’t trying to impress this man.

Then she had a sudden flashback to that morning. To looking at herself in the mirror and seeing the mascara under her eyes and her hair standing up in clumps. Oh, my God. “This morning,” she stammered. “I didn’t realize…”

A man cleared his throat from somewhere close by. “This morning, huh?” he said.

She shot a glare at the man who now stood at Cole’s shoulder. His mouth was serious, but his eyes tilted up a little in subtle amusement. She was opening her mouth to tell him to fuck off, when Cole interrupted.

“Grace, this is Shane. He lives upstairs. Shane, this is Grace. Our new neighbor.”

“Oh!” His brown eyes widened. “Pleased to meet you. I heard there was a woman amongst us. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, still prepared not to like him.

Cole elbowed his friend. Hard. “Apologize. You pissed her off with your stupid attempt to be funny.”

“Sorry,” Shane said, touching the brim of his hat. “I’m an idiot.”

He grimaced so sincerely that Grace almost laughed. Almost. But she didn’t want him to think he was off the hook.

“So what were you saying about this morning?” Cole continued. “Something about how the breakfast was spectacular, but the company far surpassed it?”

“No, I…” She looked from him to his friend and narrowed her eyes.

Shane put up his hands. “All right, I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll be over here. Out of firing range.”

She watched him walk away, and suddenly Cole’s voice was in her ear. “I think he’s scared of you.”

She turned and felt his chin brush her hair before he drew back. “He should be scared of me. So should you.”

“Yeah? How come? The purple hair?” He carefully reached up and rubbed a lock of her hair between his thumb and finger, then withdrew before she could knock his hand away.

“No.”

“The black suede pants?”

“They’re not suede, they’re just brushed to look… No. Not that either.”

He leaned closer again, and she felt very alone with him beneath the shadow of his hat. “Is it the way you look like you could punch me and enjoy it? Or the way your dark eyes get even darker when you’re really mad?”

Grace inhaled sharply at the husky appreciation in his words. She thought she might have swayed closer and hoped it was only the beer affecting her vision. “No, I…I just meant that if you weren’t nice I’d come by and hang out in the morning again.”

“And why would I be scared of that, Miss Grace?”

Yeah, his voice was definitely husky. And she was definitely swaying. Damn those drinks. She cleared her throat and stood as straight as she could. “You should be scared because of how I looked this morning.”

“You looked fine. Cute.”

“Cute? You’ve got to be fu—”

“Cole!” Jenny’s voice called from behind her. “You look tired. Want the usual, babe?”

“Thanks, Jenny,” he said, his smile widening when he looked past Grace’s shoulder. It was just the moment she needed to escape the pull of his low voice and warm smile. And the intimacy of looking up at him under the shadow of his hat. Secret cowboy trick, probably.

Had she actually been succumbing to the flirtations of a cowboy? Wow. Altitude, indeed.

She steeled her spine. “Anyway, I’ll see you around, all right?”

“Hey, where are you going? I was about to buy you a drink.”

“After you just warned me to take it easy?”

A moment of male confusion flashed over his face, but he recovered quickly. “A soda then. Or just some water. It’s important to drink lots of water here or you’ll get headaches.”

“Thanks, but I was going to buy myself a glass of water back at my apartment. Maybe see if I get lucky. Afternoon, cowboy.” She touched a hand to an imaginary hat, mimicking the movement she’d found so amusing yesterday.

As she walked away, she was aware of his eyes on her. She knew he was watching. She knew it because he’d noticed her boots and the soft fabric of her black jeans within moments of saying hello. What she didn’t know, what she couldn’t even begin to comprehend, was why the knowledge of his eyes on her filled her chest with such a hot burn of satisfaction.

* * *

“WELL, NOW,” SHANE drawled when he stepped up to join Cole at the bar. “Somebody likes playing with fire.”

Cole took a swig from his waiting beer and shot a look at the saloon door that had just closed behind Grace. “I’m not playing with anything.”

“Oh, but you’d like to. By the way, you’ve got a little drool on your chin. Might want to wipe that off.”

Cole rolled his eyes.

“You really like that girl? She looks kind of tough.”

“She is tough,” he said, smiling at the memory of her kicking the shit out of her own bag.

“She looks like she could cut my balls off without flinching.”

“As long as it’s your balls she’s cutting and not mine, she can amuse herself any way she likes.”

Shane shook his head. “To each his own, brother. I’m just saying there are plenty of nice girls around here who you don’t have to wear a cup around. That woman looks like trouble.”

Hell, yeah, she looked like trouble. Cole’s eyes skimmed over the room, taking in only vague impressions of the women at the tables. They all looked so dull. Nice, yes. And normal. Blondes and brunettes and the occasional redhead. Not a strand of purple among them. No smoky-black eyeliner that made them look dangerous and vulnerable all at the same time. No black and gray and blue outfits that covered everything but somehow looked sexy as hell.

Yeah, Grace looked tough. Which had made it that much sweeter when her black-brown eyes had softened for a moment. When she’d looked up at him and swayed the tiniest bit closer. Her lips had parted as if she’d needed more room to draw a breath.

Cole cleared his throat and shifted on the barstool, wondering if he really did have drool on his chin, because his mouth was sure as hell watering. He downed his beer and signaled for another. Jenny winked and grabbed another mug.

“What do you hear about Grace?” he asked when she brought his second beer.

“Cole Rawlins, are you fishing for information about another woman from your ex-girlfriend? Don’t you think that’s a little rude?”

He smiled at her mock outrage. “We dated for all of two minutes. Now, spill it.”