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“They don’t think I’m sexy, Grace. Not the way you are.”
Grace got angry the way she always did when she thought of people not being nice to Merry. “You are sexy! And you’re the sweetest person I know. Any man would be lucky if you even looked at him.”
“Sweet,” Merry groaned. “That’s the problem. I’m the perpetual little sister. The buddy. Once a guy ruffles your hair, your vagina has ceased to exist for him. And,” she said and sighed, “a lot of guys ruffle my hair.”
Despite her frustration for her friend, Grace laughed. “It’s going to happen. Someday you’ll meet a guy who thinks you’re sweet and wants to see your vagina.”
“You think?”
“I know. And hey, if not, you’ve always got a nice rack to fall back on.”
“That’s true,” Merry agreed grudgingly.
“None of those guys are good enough for you anyway.”
“Which guys?”
“All of them,” Grace said. She meant it. Despite the fact that she’d grown up with no money and no dad, just as Grace had, Merry had somehow come through with her sensitive soul intact. Grace would kill any man who changed that.
“I’d better go,” she finally said.
“All right. But call me again soon. I miss you, Grace.”
She got off the phone, but she stayed where she was on the porch. It was another perfect evening in Wyoming. Cool in the shade. Crickets just starting to chirp. No mosquitoes. No smog. Just the breeze on her skin and the falling dusk. She took a deep breath. And another. And then Cole walked out their front door.
And all her good intentions, all her strength of conviction and determination—everything crystallized. Right there where she could see it. She watched as it all went clear and bright. And then it broke apart and collapsed into sharp shards of lust. They stabbed into her, impossible to ignore.
God, she wanted him again. She wanted him to want her again. The idea was sweet somehow, despite that it was all animal heat and need. It was sweet and strong and devastating. But she closed her eyes and told herself it wasn’t real. He was just a man. It was just sex.
She pushed to her feet and disappeared into the saloon before he could corner her alone. It was safer this way, surrounded by people. She could disappear among them, then slip away without a fight. Or whatever it was that he wanted. He’d called several times today. He probably thought they should talk. Probably wanted to know what she was feeling. But she never told anyone what she was feeling. As far as she was concerned, no one deserved to know what she was really feeling, deep down inside. The idea of admitting that she was scared or worried or hurt to a man… No. Her mouth went dry.
At least it was perfect timing. Shane had already ordered another pitcher.
“I told you I’d get that.”
He shrugged. “Next week.”
“What if I’m not here next week?”
Shane paused in the act of raising the pitcher to pour another glass. One eyebrow rose, disappearing beneath his cowboy hat. “You planning on leaving soon?”
“Sooner rather than later.”
His gaze focused past her shoulder. “Does Cole know that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Right. I see.” He poured her glass and slid it over. “Maybe I’d better order another pitcher, then.”
“Oh, we’re all big girls here, aren’t we?” She shrugged off the flat doubt in his eyes. “It is what it is.”
“Sure,” he answered, managing to convey a lot of doubt in that word.
When Cole joined them, Shane lifted his chin in greeting and offered a beer. “How’s it going?”
Cole just grunted in that way men did when they were friends. Some shorthand that other men didn’t seem to find rude. He tipped his face toward Grace. “Can we talk?”
“Sure,” she said without making any sign that she was willing to move.
