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“Bad neighborhoods?”
She paused, staring at her beer and seeing a dozen different apartments in a dozen different cities. “My mom wasn’t around a lot. That’s all.”
“And your dad?”
That was an easier answer. That one didn’t even hurt. “I never met him. What about your parents? Did you grow up on Bonanza? Or…what was that other one? Gunsmoke?”
“Are you asking if my mother was an Old West whore?”
She convulsed and pressed a hand to her mouth to keep the beer in. “Oh, God,” she finally gasped. “Don’t do that when I’m taking a drink.”
“You’re the one who said it.”
“Okay, I forgot about Miss Kitty. Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”
“At least she had a heart of gold. But no. My dad was a ranch hand his whole life. My mom left when I was ten. She’s married to an insurance salesman out in Casper. They used to make me go stay there during the summer, but I kept running away, so that stopped. That’s it. Pretty boring.”
“That sounds sad, actually.”
“Naw, it wasn’t bad. Normal kid stuff.”
She turned to meet his gaze, and he was watching her so carefully, his blue eyes clear and pure. “Are you sure?”
“Everybody has stuff like that in their lives. Things other people don’t see.”
Whether it bothered him or not, the story made her sad for him and she didn’t want him to see that in her eyes, so she put her hand over his and stared at their entwined fingers. “Maybe,” she murmured. “People never do look very hard.”
“They don’t. But I like looking at you, Grace. I don’t think you’re as tough as you seem.”
She chuckled. “That’s not true. Don’t think things like that. I can’t be soft. For anyone.”
“No?”
“No,” she whispered.
He turned his hand up and folded her fingers into his, and she felt as if her hand could disappear into his larger one. She wasn’t sure if that comforted her or scared her to death.
“Why?” he asked.
“That’s a ridiculous question. Why? Because people suck. Haven’t you ever noticed that?”
“Not everybody sucks.”
God, what was this? More Old West shit? “No? How about you, Cole? How do you think I would’ve felt after that first time if I were a sweet, soft girl? If I’d let you bend me over your couch like you’d paid for me, and then you threw it all in my face before I even got my clothes back on?”
Blood rushed to his face as quickly as if she’d slapped him.
She smiled. “Because if I trusted people, I probably would’ve trusted you not to do that. But I don’t trust people, so I was fine. You see how it works?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t… You’re right. That was awful.”
“Sure it was. But we’re all awful, Cole. I’m awful, too. We may as well have a good time together.”
“You’re not awful.”
“Oh, God.” She laughed. “Really? What that bitch said about me today, even if that wasn’t true, it used to be. I used to steal things. Shoplift. I used to take clothes and food and shoes, because I thought I had
a right. I didn’t have anything and those people did, so why not? And I did drugs when I needed to forget what my life was. When I wanted to pretend I was only hanging out at the park with my friends instead of living there.”
