Brash Read online

  Cruel and inhuman punishment is what that sounded like. He laughed. He didn’t know if he could handle it. But denying this woman anything was just a superpower he lacked. “You sure? You don’t want to relax or de-stress or whatever?”

  Her brows lifted and she smiled. “Did you just say de-stress?”

  He shrugged. “I know things, Doc. Hear things. Read crappy magazines when I’m waiting on my takeout.”

  She laughed. “So you’ll stay?”

  He sighed. “If you’ll explain things to Belle.”

  “Don’t worry. She’s very understanding.” With deft hands, she started to undress. “I’ll make sure she gets a few cookies in her system before I tell her.”

  Cole sat down on the floor, his back against the wall. Best not to get too close. It was strange. Both from her angle and his. In his life, he’d seen women naked more than he cared to admit, but he felt inexplicably shy about seeing Grace. Like he didn’t deserve it, or some shit like that. But that was right. That was his whole goddamn issue. What he deserved. What he didn’t. The list got longer every day.

  When he heard water splashing, he looked up. Seated inside the tub, surrounded by a sea of pale pink bubbles, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Truly, she was a stunner, her creamy skin glowing in the candlelight, her eyes on him. They were so bright, so green, and so confused and curious.

  “You looked away when I got undressed,” she stated.

  Ah, hell. Did she have to? Have to make him explain? Always said whatever was on her mind. He liked that about her. But sorta hated it too. A grin split his features.

  “Believe me, Doc,” he said finally. “I’m as confused by it as you. It wasn’t for lack of wanting to—I can tell you that.” He stretched his legs out, crossed his arms over his chest. “Water okay? Not too hot?”

  Her eyes softened and she shook her head. “You keep doing these nice things for me and we’re going to have trouble when the time comes to say good-bye.”

  Her words were sharp and unexpected. Cut into him. Deep. “Who says we’re saying good-bye?”

  Her lips curved into a soft, sad smile. “I know who you are, Cole. And who you’re not. It’s part of your charm.” Her smile widened. “And I know why you came into my life in the first place. What you want from me.”

  “Hell, woman. I don’t even know what I want from you. Well, that’s not true.” His head dropped back against the cool tiled wall. “But how I got here isn’t as important as why I’m sticking around, is it?”

  Her brows lifted. “Why are you?”

  “I told you before.” His eyes drank her in but left him with a deep thirst for more. “I’m into you.”

  She smiled shyly.

  “Will you come to my fight?” he asked impulsively. “Be there on the sidelines?”

  Her smile upgraded to a full-blown grin. “Cheer for you when you win?”

  He nodded. “Pick me up off the ground if I lose.”

  She gave him a look that said, Are you crazy? “You’re not going to lose.”

  “I’ve never beaten this guy, Doc.” His voice was unexpectedly rough. Maybe even held a trace of longing, if he was going to admit it.

  Her eyebrows went up and down real fast. “That’s what’s going to make it so great.”

  He laughed at her silly face. “Why do you have so much faith in me?”

  Her eyes glimmered and she gave him one helluva megawatt smile. “Because I’m into you too.”

  He’d heard people say—on TV, in movies, books, even from guys at the gym—that really liking someone can make your heart shift inside your chest. To make room. For the other person’s heart. He’d always laughed off shit like that. Someone’s heart inside him, cuddling up close to his ticker. Shoot . . . there were days he was pretty sure he didn’t even have one. That the muscle had stopped working the day Cass was taken, was yanked out and buried when she was found dead.

  Then this girl, this woman sitting in a sea of bubbles, had to go and tell him she liked him, that she believed in him. Making his heart pull a Grinch. Not only was it still in there and beating away. It had swelled.

  His eyes held her tight. “Can I stay the night?”

  She nodded.

  “In your pink room?” He grinned. “Your pink bed?”

  She nodded again.

  “I don’t think I can touch you.” He groaned with the thought. “Though, Christ Almighty, I want to. But I don’t think I can stay sane if I do. You understand.”

  Her lips formed the sweetest smile. “We’ll sleep.”

  He released a breath. “I know you’ve never slept with a guy until me. But I want you to know I’ve never slept with a girl until you.”

  Her entire face lit up. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Never even thought about it.”

  “Oh, that makes me happy, Cole,” she said, relaxing back against the tub. “Boy, this feels so good.”

  “I’m glad, Doc. Real glad.” He dropped back against the wall, and for a little while they enjoyed a shared silence.

  * * *

  Cowgirl.

  I’m here.

  Have you thought any more about it?

  I’m always thinking about it.

  Then let’s just jump. Time is precious. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

  What happened?

  Blue glanced up. Following the afternoon rain, the clouds had moved on and a sky glittering with stars had emerged. The land he loved so much stretched out before him—Cavanaugh land. And he was a Cavanaugh.

  His phone buzzed and he glanced down at the screen.

  Cowboy? You still there?

  Someone passed away tonight.

  Oh. I’m so sorry. Someone close to you?

  The opposite. A bad man. Bastard got what he deserved.

  Then why do you seem so sad? If this piece of shit got what he deserved?

  Blue hesitated. It wasn’t like Cowgirl to cuss or sound so caustic in her texts. But then again, he knew he sounded down in the mouth. Maybe she was just giving him support. He texted her back.

  Forget about him. It’s you and me that matters. I want you. I want to know you, Cowgirl. Know your real name. See your face. Touch you. Kiss you.

  I want that too.

  His heart seized, longing barreling through him. He needed this now. Her. This one person he trusted. He needed to have her in front of him. See her in the flesh.

  When?

  Blue stared at the screen, waiting. She wanted this too. Since they’d started talking, she’d made it very clear how she felt about him. It was time. Enough of the games. It wasn’t fun and mysterious anymore.

  He waited. The minutes ticked by. But he got no reply.

  Nineteen

  “I’m not kidding when I say I’m going to have a heart attack,” Grace said, panting and sweaty as they headed into the second mile.

  Annoyingly dry, his breathing unlabored, Cole jogged beside her. “No you’re not.”

  “You don’t know my medical history, Cole!”

  “True, but I’ve seen you engage in other forms of exercise where heavy breathing is involved. You sailed right through it. I’m thinking it’s not the exercise, but the type of exercise. Or even better, the reward.”

  She faux glared at him. “Can I once again say you have a perverted mind?”

  “I don’t know,” he said on a grin. “Can you say it again?”

  She tossed him a snarl. “I hate you.”

  He grinned back. “No, you don’t.”

  “I want to beat you with a stick.”

  “Mmmm . . . I might let you.”

  “Perverted!” she cried out just as they hit Main Street. “Oh my God.” Grace stopped, folded over, and just tried to pull in air and not feel like she might explode from the inside out. Oh, stopping was so good. Fantastic. The be
st ever.

  She felt Cole’s hand on her back. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “You asked me to go jogging with you,” she managed to get out.

  “You could’ve said no.”

  She glanced up. “And let you think I’m an out-of-shape wimp? Absolutely not. Better to show you that firsthand.” She squinted at him through her sweat haze. “How are you so . . . ?”

  “What?”

  Gorgeous. Sexy. Irresistible. The no-shirt policy was really growing on her. And the white-and-gray shorts that hung on his hip bones showed off both his hard abs and his muscular legs, which incidentally possessed just the right amount of hair. If she was not having a heart attack that very second, she’d jump him. Or try to. He was so damn disciplined about the no-sex-before-a-fight thing, though.

  The night before, he’d slept beside her and woken up with a hard-on. She’d felt it against her lower back and tried to coax him to use it by moving her butt around. He’d gotten out of the bed and into the shower so fast Grace believed he might be part jackrabbit.

  “Dry,” she finally spat out. “How are you so damn dry and not out of breath?”

  He laughed. Silently saying, You know I do this for a living, right? Test the limits of my body on a daily basis? But aloud, he asked, “What are you doing later? After you recover, of course? Want to have a late lunch, early dinner? With me?”

  She straightened, groaned at the resistance of her muscles to anything more. Dinner. Food. Vomiting was not out of the question right now. “Let’s walk. Slowly.” She started forward. “Need to walk.”

  He followed her. “You want me to carry you, honey?” The damn grin was in his voice now.

  “You’re very kind. But I just couldn’t bear that.”

  “I’ve done it before. Enjoyed it too.”

  “I was not sweat soaked and stinking to high heaven at the time.”

  “You think that’s a turnoff?”

  Her head came around and she stared at him. His black eyes glowed with health and wickedness. She shook her head, even managed a smile. The guy could make her grin through tears and near total collapse.

  They moved down the street at a snail’s pace and into the midmorning bustle of River Black, past the hotel.

  “I’m going to be gone all tomorrow,” Cole said, picking up the conversation. “Back to Austin, and then the fight’s the day after. I want to see you before I go.”

  She wanted that too. “I’d like that, but I’m going to Palmer’s funeral.”

  It was as if all the air was suddenly sucked from the town. Cole stopped and faced her, all good humor gone. “You’re really going to that freak show?”

  His quick ire caught her off guard. “He was my father’s best friend, Cole—”

  “Okay, but what does that have to do with you?”

  “I’m taking my dad,” she informed him.

  His brows knit together. “Do you really think that’s a good idea? Putting your dad through that?”

  “He doesn’t know what Caleb did,” she said, feeling a blanket of unease move over her. “This is a connection to the life he had. Maybe it’ll bring something back.” Her gaze faltered. “Maybe it’ll bring me back.”

  He sighed, glanced past her. “Yeah, I get that. And if he remembers Palmer and you, maybe he’ll remember something about Cass.”

  Grace understood his unwavering need to get answers. And when she felt the hurt rise up within her, she tamped it right back down. They both deserved their heart’s desire. She just prayed Cole’s wouldn’t come at the price of her father.

  “You want to go together?” she asked him.

  His whole face warmed to her. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” She sounded a little uneasy. Maybe she felt that way too.

  Cole reached out and touched her shoulder. “I won’t push him, Grace.”

  Her eyes found his and she nodded. She hadn’t expected that from her fighter. She knew what was at stake for him. And she respected it. But giving her and her dad the night . . . it meant the world. It meant he was capable of feeling deeply.

  There was a moment of awkwardness between them. Cole unsure what to say. Grace nervous about what the night might bring. Then Cole said, “I’m going to keep going.” He gave her a soft smile. “I have another eight miles to get in.”

  She rolled her eyes. Show-off. Then managed a smile. “I’m limping off to the clinic, then. I have a full day of patients.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to carry you there?” he asked, his eyes bright with humor.

  “You better get out of here before I take you up on that.”

  He laughed. “I’ll text you.”

  “Okay.”

  He started away, but about ten feet out he turned and came back. Before Grace could say a word, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. Not a hungry kiss, but soft and meaningful.

  When he pulled back, his eyes roamed over her face. “Have a good day, Doc.” Then he grinned. “I like saying that.”

  She watched him go, so strong, moving so much faster than he had with her by his side. He was glorious.

  I like saying that, he’d said.

  I like hearing it, Grace thought as she turned toward the clinic and propelled herself and her aching muscles forward.

  * * *

  There was nothing Cole wanted to do less than sit on a hard bench in that damn church and listen to a man he despised get eulogized by a man who clearly wanted to claim the woman he was with.

  But he’d done it. Along with the whole town, who—despite Palmer’s despicable actions—had come together to send him off.

  Or down, depending on what you believed.

  Deacon and Mac had come too, and of course Grace and her father. Cole had made sure his brother knew that questions were off-limits tonight. Out of respect and care for Grace.

  After the church service, they’d traveled over to the Shurbots’ place for the reception. There was no way Cole was going to Caleb Palmer’s grave site. The man didn’t deserve anyone’s respect, much less Cole’s.

  “You want something?” Deacon asked, coming up beside him with a paper plate.

  They were standing near the grill in Carl Shurbot’s backyard with about fifty others. Townsfolk who had once been friends with Caleb Palmer. Thought him a decent man. It was hard to accept the idea that one of their own could be a monster who hurt women.

  “Hamburger without the bun or whatever it is you eat?” His brother grinned.

  “Don’t pick on him, Deacon,” Mac cut in, looking all cleaned up in a navy dress and heels. “Cole loves a good bun. Don’t you, Cole?”

  “You two are really hilarious. And this is the perfect place to crack jokes, by the way.”

  “Oh, come on, little brother,” Deacon said, giving Harry Appleton a wave as he passed by. “This is as much a celebration of life as it is a celebration of death.”

  “You’re going to hell, Deac. You know that, right?”

  “I do. And I feel right comforted that you’ll be there alongside me.”

  Mac slipped her arm through Deacon’s. “Well, I’m starving. Burger with the bun, please.”

  “Coming right up, darlin’,” Deacon said, leading her away from Cole and toward the grill.

  Cole took the opportunity to check on Grace. She was over at a long table with Ben Shiver, Mrs. Remus, and her dad, who seemed remarkably lucid tonight. Cole had driven them both to the church, and the man had spent much of the time talking about movie night at the senior care center. Cole had wanted to test the waters with a little chat about the past, but he’d promised Grace.

  She looked up and spotted him watching her. She waved and he nodded. He was trying to give her some space, let her spend time with her dad. After all, he was learning nothing of value here. He hadn’t heard one thing abo
ut Palmer or the past that had to do with Cass. It was as if she hadn’t been known to the man’s circle at all.

  Maybe it was just as well. The fight was just two days away. He could use his anger, his frustration, to bring Fontana to his knees. It was what he’d always relied on. Fire in his belly.

  “Someone’s looking at you.” Deacon was by his side, full plate. “Like they’re interested, if you know what I mean.”

  Cole’s eyes searched out Grace again. But she wasn’t looking at him. His gut tightened. When had the Rev sat down beside her? he wondered irritably. Chatting her up, laying that I’m a good guy who wants a future here in River Black, kids and white fences and housecoats and boring sex and blah blah fucking blah on her.

  He was about to head their way when Deacon knocked his chin in a different direction. “Not her,” he said. “Over by the garden beds.”

  The Shurbot place was pretty extensive and well appointed for a small ranch property. Past the small barn was a row of garden beds, full to bursting with greens and sunflowers.

  “I don’t see any girl looking my way,” Cole said.

  “Didn’t say it was a girl.”

  Cole was about to deck the man for jerking his chain when he realized Deacon was right. There was a man staring at him.

  “Who is that?” Cole asked.

  Deacon shook his head. “Never seen him before. But he seems real interested in you.”

  Maybe the guy had seen one of his fights. Cole tried to place him. He was busy running his eyes up and down Cole’s body the same way Grace did. But it didn’t feel the least bit romantic. More like a cop checking out a suspect. But a confused, freaked-out sort of cop.

  “Hey, Carl,” Deacon called to the older man working the grill. “You know who that is? Over near your greens?”

  Stepping away from the barbeque, Carl squinted. “Oh, I believe that’s Caleb’s nephew. I think his name is Billy Felthouse. Lives in California.”

  “A relative,” Deacon murmured to Cole. “He seems pretty into you. But I bet you don’t want to date into that family.”

  “What was that, boys?” Carl asked, picking up his tongs once again.