Chapter 1 #2
One, Wolfe and Lynx Caine did show up every Friday night without fail. Usually Saturday nights, also.
Two, someone—typically a drunk cowboy—provoked one or both cousins and ended up out front.
Three, someone was usually bleeding by the time they all came stumbling back inside.
And four, at some point tonight, the sheriff was going to make an appearance.
Seeing the sheriff wasn’t high on my priority list, even if he was nice to look at. Rhys Trevino’s piercing blue eyes saw too damn much as far as I was concerned, which was the very reason I was keeping my distance.
The door opened. The sound of the fight and some rowdy onlookers floated into the empty room, then was quickly cut off when the door closed again.
Nope, they weren’t done yet.
I leaned against the bar and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only nine thirty. I had two and a half hours to go, and that seemed like an interminably long time. Especially if I had to spend half an hour waiting for everyone to make their way back inside.
What I really wanted to do was go home, take a long, hot shower, and then fall asleep while reading.
I'd recently discovered some rather intriguing books—a popular genre known as erotic romance—that had taught me a few things that I … uh … hadn’t known.
In fact, they’d taught me a lot of things I hadn’t known.
Needless to say, I looked forward to reading.
It was what I'd been doing for the past year.
Ever since … the hospital. Thanks to an extremely kind nurse who had clearly taken pity on me, I'd immersed myself in fiction as a way of escape.
Admittedly, I was getting comfortable in my new life.
The door opened and my gaze instantly swung over to see who it was.
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t exactly comfortable. I was still rather twitchy, but there was good reason for that. When one was running for their life, hiding out in a small town, and watching over their shoulder every second of every day, one tended to be jumpy.
“That Lynx Caine’s somethin’ else,” the newcomer drawled as he headed toward an empty table on the far side of the room.
I preferred Wolfe to Lynx, but I had no idea why that was. Perhaps I'd had more interaction with him. And even that was extremely limited. There was just something about his deep voice, his black hair and green eyes, the scruffy jaw, and the…
Yeah. Okay. So I'd been thinking far too much about Wolfe Caine.
Not knowing what to say to the old man, I opted to pretend not to have heard, instead choosing to offer him a beer.
“Yeah, thanks, darlin’. Coors Light, if you don’t mind.”
I turned back to the bar to find Reagan grinning as she pulled out a longneck and twisted the top off, passing it over to me.
It didn’t take a lot of effort to keep the clientele in this place happy.
Since there weren’t many options for recreational activities in Embers Ridge, someone could stop into Reagan’s for a beer or head over to Marla’s Bar for something a little stronger, or even a hamburger and fries.
Of course, they could stop in at the diner if they wanted down-home comfort food.
Anything more than that would require them to head out of town, a good twenty miles to the nearest chain restaurant.
That was one of the many reasons I liked Embers Ridge. It was small, the pace was relatively slow, and the people were nice, if not a little nosy. The curiosity was the hardest part to deal with, but so far, I had managed to evade most of the questions by pretending to be shy.
Since I'd moved into the small farmhouse originally owned by one of the town’s founding families, I did tend to get a lot of questions.
Most of them I couldn’t answer since the only thing I knew about the previous owner was that the woman had gotten married and decided to sell the place.
With just enough cash to get myself settled in, I had forked it over.
The process had been quick and easy, which was what I'd been aiming for.
“Get these boys some beers,” an older man hollered as he stepped into the bar, holding the door open.
I turned in time to see Wolfe and Lynx being hustled in by another group of guys.
My gaze instantly zeroed in on Wolfe. There was something about the man that drew my attention. Could’ve been the way he carried himself with more masculine grace than a big man like him should possess. Whatever it was, I found it difficult not to stare like a schoolgirl with a crush.
“Sheriff’s on his way,” the old man noted.
Shit.
The last person I wanted to come face-to-face with was the sheriff. I'd managed to stay off his radar thus far; I didn’t see any reason to tempt fate.
Then again, if I really wanted to play it safe, perhaps I should rethink working at Reagan’s on Friday nights.
Rhys Trevino
I knew the call was coming in before I actually received it.
It was Friday night, after all.
But just like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, we could always depend on some good Samaritan calling in to let the Lee County Sheriff’s Department know that the Caine cousins were throwing down outside Reagan’s. Never failed.
After responding to dispatch, letting them know I was in the vicinity and that I'd take care of the disturbance at Reagan’s, I turned my truck around and put my foot on the gas.
I knew what I would find when I arrived.
It wouldn’t be an emergency unless one of the Caine cousins had gone off the rails.
So far, their weekly brawls had yet to send anyone to the hospital.
One of these days, some smart-mouthed cowboy was going to push Lynx too far, though. I figured it was only a matter of time.
And now it was time to check it out.
I only hoped they’d wrapped it all up because the last time I had to intervene, I'd sported a black eye for a fucking week.
Afterward, I would stop for a cup of coffee because if this call was anything to go by, tonight was going to be a long one.
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up to the bar. All looked quiet from the parking lot. Since I knew Reagan—the woman was my sister, after all—there was no way they’d been throwing down in the bar, so it appeared as though someone had wrangled all the misfits back inside.
Thank God for small miracles.
Getting out of my truck, I grabbed my hat and shoved it on my head, then slammed the door shut and took a quick look around.
Other than the ruckus coming from inside the bar, all was quiet. The stars seemed extra bright tonight, too. Sighing, I resigned myself to dealing with these boys for what I hoped was the only time tonight.
When I stepped inside, my gaze instantly traveled through the room, categorizing all that was going on.
The Caine cousins were seated at the bar, Reagan was telling one of her many stories, two younger guys were back near the pool table, another couple were playing darts.
There were several tables off to the right that were still empty while the jukebox played an old Garth Brooks song.
My eyes stopped on the pretty blonde wiping down one of the tables.
Technically, I didn’t think Amy Smith was a true blonde, nor did I think the color was a fashion statement.
Her dark eyebrows and dark roots said the carpet probably didn’t match the drapes.
Not that I knew firsthand. In fact, I didn’t know much about the newcomer yet.
Well, nothing more than the fact that she’d come to town three months ago and quickly got settled into McKenzie Catlay’s old house after paying cash for the place.
She started working at the diner a couple of weeks after that, and she’d been waitressing at Reagan’s for the past month.
Yet no one knew much of anything about her.
Despite the fact that she spent her time in the heart of town, mingling with customers, the woman did a damn good job of keeping to herself.
I'd been tempted to look into her, but even a small-town cowboy like myself could tell that Smith was likely not her real name, and if I did a search, I'd probably come up with thousands in the state of Texas alone.
“Hey, Sheriff! What brings you down here tonight?” Reagan crooned from behind the bar.
I turned toward my sister and the two men holding down the barstools nearby. “Just checkin’ on a disturbance call.”
I noticed the Caine cousins didn’t bother to turn around.
“You wouldn’t know anything ’bout that, would you, Wolfe?”
I sidled up to the bar beside the cousin closest to me.
“Nope,” Wolfe muttered. “Sure wouldn’t.”
“So, the bleedin’ knuckles…” I nodded toward the hand currently wrapped around the beer bottle in front of Wolfe.
“Work.”
“Right.” It wasn’t far-fetched, although I knew it for the lie it was. Since Wolfe and his cousin were in the furniture business, scarred hands were par for the course. However, this looked fresh, never mind the gravel dust on their jeans and hats.
“You wanna beer, Sheriff?” Reagan offered, smiling.
I cocked an eyebrow. She knew I was on duty, but it never failed; she always offered and I always refused. “I’ll take a Coke.”
“Comin’ right up.”
Turning around, I leaned against the bar, still standing beside Wolfe.
“Who started it?” I asked, keeping my voice low enough that no one other than Wolfe could hear.
“Coupla dumb asses,” Wolfe said. “They didn’t come back inside. If you hurry, you could probably get ’em for a DUI.”
Tempting. Especially if it meant keeping the residents of my small town safe. However, I knew Wolfe was trying to get me out of there.
“No one hurt?” I turned and faced Wolfe, studying the man’s profile.
Wolfe and I were never what people would consider friends.
Not in our small town, anyway. Although I was accepted by the Caine cousins as good people and vice versa, we didn’t run in the same circles.
Being that my family was a longtime rival of the Caines, it would’ve been frowned upon.
Didn’t mean we weren’t civil to one another, though.
And since we’d grown up here, gone to the same schools, I knew everything there was to know about them.
Reagan passed over the Coke and I tipped my hat.
Turning back around, I caught sight of Amy moving toward the back.
There was something about that woman. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was.
It could’ve been the fact she always seemed to be looking over her shoulder, or even as simple as my underlying attraction to her.
Whatever it was, I had decided a couple of weeks ago that I'd see how things went before I approached her.
“She doin’ okay in here?” I asked Wolfe, again, keeping my voice low.
Wolfe shifted, his arm brushing mine when he did.
Damn, the man smelled good. Always. It was a combination of cologne and the sexy scent of an alpha male, I had determined.
“From what I can tell, yeah,” Wolfe confirmed. “She’s a little jittery.”
Yeah, I had noticed that, too. Whenever the door opened, she was always the first one looking. And it wasn’t a casual move, either. It was as though the cute little waitress was expecting trouble to waltz right in through the double doors.
She must’ve sensed we were talking about her because Amy’s attention turned to us. When I met and held her gaze for a second, the woman quickly looked away.
Truth was, I was curious about her and not necessarily in a law enforcement capacity.
The only information I'd been able to get had come from my sister.
According to Reagan, Amy was twenty-six, single, and not at all interested in sharing details about herself.
From what I could tell, Reagan knew Amy Smith better than anyone else in town.
Still, I wanted to get to know her better.
It’d been a long damn time since I'd met a woman who captured my interest. Hell, it’d been a long damn time since anyone had captured my interest.
“Don’t even think about it, Sheriff,” Wolfe grumbled.
I stood tall and turned to him. I held the man’s stare, daring him to finish the threat. I knew he was warning me off the woman, and I even knew why.
“Jealous?” I didn’t look away. Wolfe knew exactly what I was talking about and it only had a tiny bit to do with the cute little waitress.
A smirk curled the corner of Wolfe’s mouth. “She’s too sweet for your games.”
“Games?” We both knew that he was referring to the fact that I was bisexual, and I didn’t necessarily keep my interactions separate.
A man, a woman, both at the same time, I was open to all possibilities.
And no, I didn’t air my personal business around town, but word got around.
Still, I wanted the man to say it out loud.
Then again, I wasn’t sure I could handle it if I did. After all, our families might’ve been at odds, but that didn’t mean I felt the same way.
And I damn sure didn’t feel that way about Wolfe Caine.
“Don’t play dumb,” Wolfe growled. “It’s not becoming.”
I cocked my head, studying him for a second.
Figuring now was not the time and here was definitely not the place to hash this out with him, I nodded, then set my empty glass on the bar, glancing over at Reagan.
“If you have any more trouble, holler.”
“Will do, Sheriff,” she answered sweetly.
I turned and met Amy’s curious gaze once more. With a quick tip of my hat, I kept my expression masked, not wanting to send the woman running.
Wolfe was right about one thing. She was definitely jumpy.
I was certainly curious as to what or who might’ve caused it.
One day I hoped to find out.