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“Vancouver.”
“Oh.” He smiled. “This is a strange route to Vancouver.”
She shrugged and made a point of changing the subject. “Thanks so much for breakfast. And coffee. The coffee’s great, too. Strong.”
She felt his gaze on her, but caught the movement of his head when he finally looked away. “You should try it after it’s been sitting at the edge of a campfire all day. That’ll wake you up.”
She was glad he’d given up the questions, because sh
e wanted to grab her plate and run back to her place so she could shovel the food in the way she wanted to. If he pushed her anymore, that’s exactly what she’d do. But he dropped the subject, so she slathered too much butter on the toast and managed to get nearly a fourth of it into her mouth in one bite.
God, she’d been really hungry. Now she wanted to groan in pleasure. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. As a matter of fact, at this moment, Cole Rawlins was pretty awesome.
She didn’t register how many eggs were on her plate until she dug into the third one. “How many eggs did you make?” she asked.
“Four for you, four for me.”
She laughed. “Do I look like I eat as much as you do?”
“You look like you’re doing okay, actually.”
Grace laughed so hard she almost had to stop eating for a moment. “Didn’t I tell you I was a lumberjack back in L.A.?”
“Ah. Of course. You’ve got that look about you.”
Jesus, he was funny. A funny cowboy. Who’d have thunk it. She’d thought they were all silent and brooding. Hell, they’d all definitely been silent and brooding in Brokeback Mountain. But she tried not to think about that when she looked at Cole.
“So, you’re from L.A.”
“Unfortunately.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“Nothing right now.”
“Did—”
“I think I’m getting full,” she interrupted with an apologetic wince. “Want my last egg?”
“No, I’m full myself.” He reached for the plate, but Grace couldn’t quite bear to let it go, so she snatched the last piece of bacon before he could whisk it away. He put the plate back down. Full or not, her mouth still watered when she bit into the bacon. She tried not to think about how long it had been since her last hot meal. It didn’t matter. She’d get a job today. Or the next day. She’d have a check within a week. She’d start paying back the money she owed so she’d never have to think about her ex again.
“You want help moving in?” Cole asked.
“No, I’m fine.” Now that she was full, Grace really needed to escape. He kept asking the wrong kinds of questions. Not that there were any right questions. Not about her.
“Come on.”
“I don’t have much.” Or anything. “Anyway, you’re injured.”
“I think I can handle moving a futon.” He gestured as he said that, and Grace could see he was right. His hands were wide, and scars stood out white against the tan. And she was pretty sure she’d never seen such nice forearms. Assuming one thought thick and muscled and masculine was nice. She had a brief temptation to touch his arm, to see if the hair was crisp or soft.
“So you’ll let me help?” he pressed.
Shit. She hopped off the stool and edged toward the door, away from him and his questions. “I’m good. But thank you for the breakfast. And coffee.” She forced herself not to ask for another cup, but it was hard. She’d already taken too much from this man. “I’ll see you around.”
“Hey.”
She stopped halfway out the door, but only because he’d fed her. Anybody else and she would’ve kept walking. When he didn’t say anything, she stuck her head back in to see him writing something down.
