Close Enough to Touch by Victoria Dahl Page B

of the drive, were sturdy but
ancient-looking. Dark wood aging to gray. Easy Creek looked like a symbol of
American ranching.
    And somehow…somehow it had worked out.
    Granted, the production people still had to approve it, but how
could they possibly walk away from such an ideal location?
    Mr. Easy, the owner—and, she assumed, Cole’s boss—had initially
been skeptical. In fact, he’d said no. They’d laid it out for him, offering the
same amount of money that had been offered to the previous site owner. Then
they’d upped it. But he hadn’t seemed tempted until Eve had mentioned Madeline
Beckingham by name. The man was obviously a fan, because he’d perked right
up.
    “Three weeks,” they’d explained. “One week now and then two
weeks of filming in a month or so. That’s it.” There would only be two scenes
filmed here, after all. The rest of the movie would be filmed in California and
on soundstages to accommodate the special effects.
    Easy had finally agreed. Now they were armed with crude
measurements and dozens of pictures Eve had snapped. If Madeline Beckingham
liked it, the place was theirs.
    As soon as they pulled away from the ranch, Grace and Eve
smiled at each other.
    “They’d be crazy not to use this place,” Eve said.
    Grace sighed. “I know. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
    “Amazing. How’d you find it?”
    “A neighbor showed me around. Cole Rawlins?”
    Eve shook her head. “I don’t know him.”
    “He works on the ranch.” Grace braced herself, thinking Eve was
going to follow up with more questions, and Grace wouldn’t know how to answer
them. But Eve’s frown had nothing to do with Grace.
    “All right, let’s make this happen. I’m already sending the
files.” She glanced down at her open laptop. “Production needs to get out here
and approve the site and the money. They’ll take care of the legal stuff this
time. I don’t have the experience. But you and I will deal with the county,
since I know the council members. But it’s private land. There shouldn’t be any
issues.”
    There were egos to stroke and payments to negotiate. But hours
later, production finally gave the go-ahead. By 9:00 p.m., when Eve dropped her
off at her apartment, Grace was exhausted, and the next day would likely be
busier. But she realized she hadn’t been worried about the mess she’d left
behind in L.A.
    This felt like good, honest work, even if she couldn’t call
herself a good, honest person. It felt…nice.
    Despite that her bed was no more than a cheap sleeping bag on a
wood floor and she hadn’t had dinner, Grace drifted almost immediately into
sleep. But she promised herself an air mattress the next day. She deserved
it.
    * * *
    S WEAT SLID DOWN his
neck as Cole pushed himself to finish his last twenty lunges. His muscles burned
and his leg ached, but there was no sharp pain, which was an improvement. At
first the pins in his leg had made him nervous. He’d been afraid to push it.
Afraid something would come loose, afraid his femur would break into four pieces
again, and it would be over. He hadn’t realized that the leg wasn’t the problem.
It was the cracked pelvic bone that might not heal right. Some sort of
separation that might need more plates, more screws. And maybe no more
riding.
    That couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t.
    He had to ride again. He was going to own land. Run his own
ranch. Live exactly the way he wanted to and answer to no one. He’d been saving
for thirteen years, ever since he’d woken up to the knowledge that he’d become
someone else, and his father had died disappointed in him.
    After that time in L.A., he’d had a little money in the bank.
He’d rather have burned it than use it as a foundation. It was tainted. And
ugly. But it was also fifteen thousand dollars, and he wasn’t naive or
idealistic. Ranch work didn’t pay much. Hell, it really didn’t pay anything at
all. The only saving grace being that room and board were provided if you