Heart of Grace (Return to Grace Trilogy #1)

by Abigail Easton

  “If you hadn’t knocked over that barrel I think you would’ve gotten fourteen seconds. Maybe even thirteen.” Cole took the horse’s reins from Angela and asked one of the ranch boys to settle Moonstar in for the night.

  “Yeah, but I did knock over the barrel, so take five seconds off for that.”

  “Still, it’s not bad. You’ve missed your calling.”

  Her adrenaline was still pumping, her breathing heavy. The last thing she wanted to see was Cole in his crooked hat and button down shirt, smiling that adorable half-cocked smile of his. “I’ll untack and settle my own horse. Thanks, Paul, but I got it.”

  “What was that, Ang?” Cole said to Angela’s back as she led the horse down the alleyway. “What are you out to prove?”

  She kept walking, sensing him staring after her. Her footsteps were soft and muffled on the dirt, the air still infused with dust. Without stopping or turning, she said, “That I can still run if want to.” ****

  Cole stood in his work clothes, his hands at the waist of his old jeans. He looked forlornly at the engine of his truck, its hood raised.

  The oil needed changing, the spark plugs wanted replaced and he’d see if he could play with the timing to make her run a little smoother. She was an old beast of a truck, but of all the things his Daddy left him when he died, this truck was the thing Cole treasured most. They had bought it together when Cole was sixteen. It had been missing most of the guts and they’d had to tow it home. It had taken six months to get her running, and now at nearly sixty years old, she could still turn a few heads.

  Cole patted her lovingly and leaned under the hood. As he reached to loosen a bolt, he wondered if he should paint the truck and give the old girl some true beauty.

  A pair of feminine voices drew his attention toward the guest house. He watched as Angie and Sophie Alexander loaded Angie’s car with picnic baskets, blankets, and other items in preparation for next week’s Fourth of July fair.

  Sophie had befriended Angie, and Angie had little choice about it. Still, he wasn’t sure it was such a bad thing. Angie seemed to enjoy it well enough. Both women chatted right up to the moment the car doors shut and they drove off.

  “Is Sophie gone?” Michael came out of the main house and shuffled down the porch steps, his hands in his pockets. Michael had spent the last two days avoiding Sophie, while Angie avoided Cole. They both watched the car drive away and disappear down the backside of a hill.

  Cole positioned himself on the wheeled creeper and gestured to the tool box sitting on the gravel. “Can you get me a three-eighths?” he muttered, sliding beneath the truck.

  “What are you working on?” Michael asked, sifting through the box for the wrench.

  “Right now I’m changing the oil.”

  “Can’t believe you still have this old thing.” Michael squatted down and handed Cole the wrench. “How long have you been restoring it?”

  “Going on sixteen years.” Cole worked the nut free and put the drip pan in place. Once he had the oil draining, he wheeled himself into the open air. “Don’t get as much time to work on her as I used to. Usually I just take her up to Hal and have him give her a go.”

  “Why take the time to do it now?”

  Cole shrugged and stood. “It’s Sunday, nothing much else to do.”

  “And I’m betting you’re wanting to take your mind off my sister.” Michael smirked, but it was not without a hint of censure.

  “Among other things,” Cole said offhandedly, “does it worry you, me with Angie?”

  “Guess that would depend on your intentions.”

  Since Cole was unsure of that himself, he simply wiped his hands on a towel and frowned. “I have no intention of hurting her.”

  “No one ever starts out wanting to hurt someone,” Michael said, his voice low. “If I had even a suspicion that you purposely wanted to hurt her, you wouldn’t be standing right now.”

  Cole didn’t know whether to be insulted or impressed by the threat. Deciding that Michael was simply doing the brotherly thing, Cole nodded appreciatively. “You and I were friends when we were kids, and I consider you a friend now. So trust me when I say that Angie matters to me. But it’s all moot. She won’t have me.”

  “She’s changed,” Michael said reflectively, leaning on the truck. “I don’t know what I expected. Angie and I haven’t seen each other in over five years, and even then things were bad. Last I saw her was when I went up to New York to visit. It was awful; she was cold and hard. I thought it’d be worse once she came back here and had to face all of this. I was wrong.”

  “She’s trying to convince herself she can leave like she did before.” Cole tossed the towel onto the truck bed. “But the past is right there in her face and she ain’t facing a cottonyarned thing.

  “Arizona,” Cole muttered, putting the wrench back in its place. He lowered himself to the ground. “I should be in Arizona right now. Lord knows those broncs ain’t half as difficult as your sister.” Since he was only half joking, Cole frowned and pulled himself beneath the truck.

  ****

  Cole and Michael wound down the day by taking in a baseball game on the big screen at The Water Hole. After a day of being in grease up to their elbows, there was nothing better than chicken wings and shooting the breeze with an old friend.

  “So when are you gonna take Sophie out?”

  Michael ripped a strip of meat from the bone and tossed the remains onto the tin plate at the center of the table. “Not.”

  Cole shrugged and picked up a wing.

  “She’s impossible,” Michael continued, even when Cole had dropped the topic. “Could you imagine being married to her? She’d be a bossy nag. Who wants that?”

  “Never said anything about marriage,” Cole bit into the wing. “But it sure seems to be on your mind.”

  Michael scowled into his drink. “I’m leaving in a week or so, anyway. Gotta get back to work.”

  “You’re sister’s got a similar philosophy.” Cole turned back to the television. His team was losing by three runs and they’d put in a relief pitcher. Bad move.

  When the game went to a commercial, Cole leaned forward and shook his head. Look at us,” he said, earning a grunt from his cohort. “You pretending you don’t want Sophie and me telling myself I don’t care if your sister’s been avoiding me.”

  “I’m not pretending I don’t want her, I don’t.” There was little conviction in Michael’s claim and he knew it, so he pushed back from the table. “I’m getting a refill.”

  Cole tossed a bone onto the plate and picked up his drink as Michael walked away.

  “That bone’s still got meat on it. Don’t pitch it just yet.”

  Cole winced at the familiar voice. Jack, his true nemesis in matters of the heart, took the seat Michael had just vacated.

  “I suppose it does.” Cole raised a finger and singled the waitress. “What’s it to you?”

  “I wasn’t talking about the chicken wing.”

  “Yeah, I figured that.” Cole stretched out his long legs and raised his gaze to the waitress. “Whiskey. Straight up.”

  “How long’s it been since you had a drink?” Jack asked.

  “Too long,” Cole answered, already craving the burn in his throat.

  “What would your daddy have you do?” Jack pointed upward.

  The waitress came back with the whiskey and set the glass in front of Cole. He picked it up and smiled crookedly at Jack.

  “It ain’t like he can answer that, now can he?”

  “Why should he have to answer? You need an army of angels to tell you what you already know?”

  Cole defied him by tossing back the whiskey. He sucked in a sharp breath and slammed the glass down. “I don’t know squat.”

  Jack laughed hysterically, letting it out as if he had been holding it for hours. Cole, patient now that the whiskey shot stabs of solace through his system, just sat back and waited for him to finish. He signaled for another shot.


  “Oh boy.” Jack wiped his eyes and leaned back. “Oh, I tell you, what you said wasn’t all that funny.”

  “Then why’d you laugh?” Cole downed the second drink when it was brought to him.

  “Because, my surrogate prodigal son,” Jack said, standing, “you’re a fool. I’ve never seen you so worked up. Not even Jenna could rile you like this. The whole town’s talking about you and Angie and how you two ought to be together. Instead you’re sitting here drinking when you should be snuggling up to something that tastes a lot better and won’t leave you sick in the morning.”

  “It’s not my choice, Jack. It was hers.”

  Jack’s eyes gleamed with something close to pride. “You’re fighting an invisible bronc, my friend. Both of you are. All that work to keep it from throwing you, but you’re already down. Can’t even see the clear path in front of you.”

  Jack patted Cole’s shoulder. “You wanna make it right, then make it right.” And then he walked away.

  Michael came back a moment later and noticed Cole’s empty shot glasses. “Shots?” he asked.

  Smiling, Cole signaled the waitress for another round. Placing his hand on Michael’s back in a companionable and alcohol-induced manner, he lifted his shot when it was given to him, and held it out for a toast. Michael followed suit.

  “Clear path,” Cole scoffed. “Hardly.” Then he tapped his glass against Michael’s. “To the beautiful women we can’t have.”

  “To annoying know-it-all females with big pretty blue eyes.”

  “And to the ones with deep green eyes that look even prettier with tears in them.”

  Just as the men were about to toss back their shots, Michael set his down without drinking and squinted at Cole. “You made my sister cry?”

  Cole laughed, thoroughly amused by the serious expression on Michael’s face. He looked as though he could go a few rounds.

  “Nah, I didn’t make her cry,” Cole said. “Wasn’t me. I dried those tears.”

  Michael tried to hold it back, but it was too much and before he could think to stop it, he was laughing. “Are we done toasting yet?” he asked through his snickers.

  “I dunno. Lost track.” Cole raised his glass and tossed back the drink unceremoniously.

  Michael did the same and then gestured with his glass. “Hey, let’s go rustle us up some touristy ladies. See if we can’t set ‘em straight ‘bout what this town stands for.”

  “Okay.” Cole nodded several times in succession, wrapping his arm around Michael’s shoulders, as much for support as it was a sign of friendship. “But they gotta be ugly. Can’t be like your sis.”

  “Ugly.” Michael considered as he surveyed the early evening crowd. “No ugly chicks, but I see a coupla nice blondes over there.”

  Cole narrowed his eyes and followed the direction of Michael’s stare. Two women sat in a corner booth. “Good choice, bro. Angie’s blonde, but not like that. She’s got red in her hair. Looks nice when the sun shines on it.”

  They were already walking over to the women, but Cole’s mind was stuck on Angie; his heart swimming in guilt. He made a point of pushing her and the voice of reason out of his thoughts, but as he slid onto the bench seat and asked the pretty blonde if he could buy her a drink, Cole could only think that her eyes were not Angie’s eyes. And her smile wasn’t Angie’s smile.

  But he was already so close to the man he once was, he figured he might as well go all the way.

  ****

  Angela picked up her rolled yoga mat and slipped on her flip flops, her muscles still humming. Sophie said goodbye to some of the other class participants and then made her way to Angela.

  “Good work,” she said. “I think you outdid me on the backbends. How about we head to The Water Hole?”

  “Hmmm. You mean we’ll get to watch drunken good ol’ boys playing pool all night? Oh boy!”

  “Come on,” Sophie pleaded, “I don’t want to go home yet.”

  “All right, fine.”

  After showering and changing in the locker room, the women set their gym bags in their cars and headed for The Water Hole. Although the sun had set, there was no relief from the heat and Angela was glad she had opted for cargo capris and a simple spaghetti-strapped tank. Without wanting to bother with her hair, she had gathered it into a low, messy bun.

  Her phone buzzed as they walked. Angela dug it out of her purse.

  “Is it Mr. Wonderful?”

  “You mean Jeffrey?” Angela asked. “He’s hardly Mr. Wonderful. But yes, it’s from him.”

  “And?”

  “And what? He’s helping me find an investor for the arena.” Angela shrugged and opened the text.

  I read the proposal. I’ll get back to you in a few days.

  She tossed her phone back into her purse and forced a smile. At least it wasn’t a “no,” but their time was running out and they were short on advertising dollars for the pro event.

  “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? Asking him to help you?”

  “I use my resources.” Angela opened the door to The Water Hole and motioned for Sophie to go in ahead of her.

  It was the usual early evening mix of locals and tourists, buried in shadows and drowning in their beers and whiskeys. A ballgame played on several televisions.

  “Ah,” Derek greeted them from behind the bar, “if it isn’t my Chardonnay girls.”

  “Just a diet soda for me tonight,” Angela said. “Thanks, Derek.”

  “Same goes.” Sophie lowered into a seat at a center table, but she bounced up quickly and stepped in front of Angela, spinning her around. “On second thought, cancel those drink orders,” she said to Derek, and then to Angela, “I’m not in the mood for drunken good ol’ boys. Let’s just go to my house for a girl’s night in. Or we can try that new bistro on Maple.”

  Angela laughed, surprised by Sophie’s urgency. “We’re already here.” She stepped around Sophie and instantly wished she hadn’t. Without her friend to block her, Angela had full view of two blondes draping themselves over Cole and her brother in a corner booth.

  Cole was laughing as his date pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek. She whispered something into his ear. He turned toward her and kissed her on the lips.

  Angela grabbed her purse, reminding herself she had no right to be angry. Sophie yanked on her arm.

  Cole looked up and saw them. The color drained out of his face. She thought he might get up, but he stayed where he was, inching away from his date. He stopped her when she tried to kiss him again.

  “Ice cream,” Sophie decided. “We need ice cream. STAT. Let’s get outof here.”

  ****

  Angela hesitated outside Cole’s den the next morning. They had scheduled this meeting over a week ago to review the potential sponsorships for next month’s pro rodeo event.

  She had spent much of the night unsuccessfully trying to keep herself from envisioning Cole with that blonde. Her memories of what she had seen and her imagination of what she had not seen made her short on self-control and restraint. She had no desire to test herself, but this confrontation needed to happen eventually. It would be a lot like killing a big hairy spider: the only way to get over the fear was to get rid of it once and for all. And that required getting close to it.

  Sliding the door open, she made an effort to soften her facial muscles, telling herself it was downright silly to care if he slept with some woman last night. He had his own life, and she had hers. The few stolen kisses that she and Cole had shared did not bind either of them to anything. She had already told him she didn’t want him, and she had meant it.

  She walked into the den, but he was nowhere in sight. Despite her efforts to stay detached, the nausea she had battled throughout the night returned when it occurred to her that he might not have come home last night. Perhaps he was still with her, snuggled up in her hotel room.

  “Cole!” She walked out of the room and yelled up the stairs, although she had already convinced herself h
e was not home. “Get down here, we’ve got work to do.”

  Nadine peaked over the upstairs balcony and then came shuffling down the stairs. “Shhhh, Michael’s still asleep,” she said in a hushed voice. “Cole’s not here, dear.”

  Angela’s stomach fell to her toes.

  “He went out to the pond at dawn, said to tell you he’d meet with you tomorrow about the sponsorships.” Nadine hurried down the rest of the stairs, her round face tight with worry. “He told me to not tell you where he was. But I’m worried about him. What happened last night? He came home in a fit of a mood.”

  Angela just shook her head and hurried through the house and out the back door.

  The pond was set back into the woods, fed by mountain streams. A cheerful stone path marked the way through the trees, leading to a dock that Cole and his dad had built. Trees arched over the water, reaching for the sun in the clearing. The old rope they had used to fling themselves into the water still hung from one of the branches.

  Cole sat on the edge of dock, his jeans rolled up and his feet in the water. Hearing her approach, he glanced back, and then quickly returned to his vigil.

  “I shoulda known Nadine would tell you where I was.”

  Angela slipped off her shoes and sat beside him, dipping her feet into the cool water. They sat in silence, listening to the trickle of the creek and the rustle of the breeze. The morning sun peeked through the trees, bringing light to the lingering overnight shadows and illuminating bits of floating dust.

  “I remember when you and I hung out at this pond together the first time,” Cole said quietly after a few moments. “It was that night my dad invited your family over for dinner. What a disaster. I was a jerk and our dad’s fought. Almost came to blows.”

  “And my mom told us to go outside.” Angela said, remembering. “That was right before my mom got sick. We must have been fourteen, maybe fifteen.”

  She turned to him, his gaze still fixed on some far away spot. She remembered him sitting there just like that almost eighteen years ago. He hadn’t wanted to be there with her, but Angela was a teenager with a crush, and she had been thrilled to be with him alone, even if it was forced on him. She had jumped into the water with all her clothes on, swinging from the rope to show off.