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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.
    “Here’s my phone number,” he said when he crossed the room.
    She didn’t reach for it, feeling immediately wary. “You live
across the hall. I think I can find you if I need you.”
    “You know anybody here except Rayleen?”
    She met his pale eyes and didn’t answer. Yes, I’m alone and vulnerable. Good for you to know.
    “This isn’t L.A.” he said. “If you get stuck somewhere at night
or your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, you might not see another car
for an hour. So, take my number, all right?”
    No, this definitely wasn’t L.A. And if he thought she was
afraid of something like being alone for an hour, then he didn’t know what real
fear was.
    But he took one step closer and pressed the paper into her
hand. When her fingers closed over it, he winked. “In case you need me,” he said
again, this time with a hint of amusement.
    Grace nodded. “All right. I’ll call you if I have any cows that
need branding, stud.”
    “Stud? My God, you L.A. women are forward. I think I’m
blushing.”
    She closed the door in his face, and scowled at his laughter as
she crossed the hall.
    Did he think she’d been flirting with him? He probably did
think that. He was undeniably handsome, though totally not her type. Too
clean-cut. Too chiseled and… Okay, he was pretty fantastic-looking, but too
confident for his own good. He probably thought she’d add a little exotic
city-girl spice to his bed. And he probably thought he’d have no trouble getting
her there. But Grace wasn’t interested in being his little curiosity. Even if
she had any interest in getting laid right now—and she didn’t—she wasn’t