Chapter Three
Caine
I love Texas. Call me crazy, but where I live, I get all the seasons. What I don’t love is the fucking humidity. I’m sweating my balls off, and it’s only seven o’clock in the morning.
“You ready to get on the road?” My brother Patrick asks after he finishes a bottle of water.
“I was ready an hour ago,” I answer with a little annoyance, okay, maybe a lot.
I prefer to get my shit done early in the morning.
And that includes getting on the road for an auction that’s six hours away.
I don’t know if we’ll pick up anything, but we need a few new mares.
But since we breed and train what some refer to as bucking broncos, we look for a specific temperament.
I can’t just go to any old auction and pick whatever looks pretty.
Patrick is in charge of picking out the best mares and stallions, and I focus on training. I used to ride when I was younger, and I did well for myself. But now I’m focused on training riders and horses and that suits me just fine.
“What took you so long?” I ask gruffly. Patrick gives me a smirk and a side-eye. “Fuck you.” I hit him in the back of the head.
Did I mention that my brother got himself a wife two months ago? Rabecca. How he won her over is a mystery to me, but she loves him. I really don’t need to picture them fucking in the morning.
I’m the oldest. My brother Patrick is the baby, at twenty-seven. After me is Hugh. He’s thirty-eight, Lance is thirty-six and Tiffany, our only sister, is thirty-four.
Patrick was a “surprise,” as Mama likes to say, though I’m pretty sure he was a mistake since our dad had a vasectomy after Tiffany was born. Apparently, my dad was part of the one percent of failed vasectomies. My mother made sure the doctor removed her tubes after Patrick was born.
“You asked.” The fucker laughs at me. “Don’t be a little bitch just because you’re not getting laid.”
I quirk a brow at my brother. If I wanted to get laid, I could. I choose when to fuck around. I didn’t once, and I got burned. Bad. I’m not going to make a mistake like that again.
When I was twenty-five, I was dumb enough to marry a buckle bunny, then found her in bed with another man I was riding against. We’d been married for two years, and it took two years to divorce her. I learned my lesson right quick. Finding love wasn’t for me.
I retired from riding five years ago. At forty, married life and a family just aren’t in the cards for me. And we aren’t exactly swimming in new pussy up here in the Crystal Falls area.
The ride through to New Mexico is a pretty easy one. And the auction pans out well. Patrick found two mares that fit our needs and by this time next year or the year after, we hope they’ll be ready to start breeding.
It’s already dark, which means the ride will be more comfortable for the horses, so we load them up on the trailer behind the truck and get back on the road.
“I’m hungry,” Patrick says as we drive past a restaurant.
“Why didn’t you stop there?” I ask, pointing my thumb at the passing strip mall.
“I’m not eating at a chain.” He grumbles. “I’m going to Shirley’s,” he says as he exits the freeway.
That damn steakhouse is twenty minutes out of the way, but Patrick is the one driving so fighting about it would be a waste of breath.
We pull up to the small house that’s been converted to a steakhouse and park the truck along the side of the building. I complain about the distance, but we always come here when we’re in town, and the food’s delicious. Plus, they don’t give us shit for the trailer.
“Jack, I’m fine.” I hear a young girl say over her cell phone. “Yes, I’m here, thank you. It is. I’m excited. I’m getting some dinner now, and I’ll call you later.”
“For how many?” the hostess asks her.
“For one, please,” the young girl says.
Why is she alone? I can’t help it. She’s a woman and I’m a man with eyes.
And, fuck if she isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Jean shorts frayed, giving me a nice view of her thick thighs and ass, a black t-shirt that hugs her in all the right places.
She’s got long mahogany waves that fall down her back.
The color is a mixture of dark and light browns and reds.
And it looks so soft and shiny. I have to remind myself that we don’t touch random people’s hair. That would be weird. And pervie.
“The wait will be about thirty, thirty-five minutes, is that okay?”
I frown. There’s a table for four open and available. I know this because this restaurant doesn’t take reservations. The two tops are all taken.
“Of course, thank you,” the young woman says.
“Your name?”
“Micky,” she says sweetly.
I think my heart stops when she turns around. Huge piercing green eyes look up at me, and our gazes lock. I don’t say anything. She’s basically a kid. I feel weird even looking at her. What the fuck is wrong with me? She’s probably not even twenty-one.
“Hey Caine! Patrick!” the owner of the restaurant says as she approaches the hostess stand. “You boys here for dinner? Just the two of you?” she asks, grabbing two menus.
“Three, actually.” Don’t ask me what the fuck I’m doin’; I’ve lost my mind! I turn to Micky and say, “Care to join us?”
Her doe eyes get even rounder as she looks at me, her lips forming a little “O” in surprise.
Patrick elbows me, and I turn to look at him. “What’re you doin’?” my brother whispers in my ear.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back. Because I don’t. But the thought of her sitting waiting for thirty-five minutes while we get seated right away… it just doesn’t sit well with me. I turn back to her. “I’m Caine,” I say. “It’s no different than if you sat at the table beside us.”
She stands and looks over the hostess stand, taking in the seating. There’s about two feet in between each table.
“All… all right,” she says. “Thank you.”
“Table for three,” the owner says as she walks us to the four-top.
“I’m Patrick,” my brother says when he sits down. “I feel it needs to be said that I’m married, love my wife and would never harm a young woman such as yourself.” He adds as she sits diagonally from him.
“Good to know, Patrick,” she says with a light chuckle. She smiles as she reaches over to shake his hand. “You can give me a real handshake,” she says when Patrick grabs her top two fingers.
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiles at her.
“I’m Mikayla, but everyone calls me Micky.”
“Do you go to school out here?” Patrick places his napkin in his lap.
“Oh, no, I already graduated,” she says shyly.
“You planning on going to college?” Patrick asks.
Oh boy… I shut my eyes for a moment and take in a deep breath. My brother really is an idiot.
Micky tilts her head at him and frowns. Then, she picks up her water glass and takes a sip. “I graduated from college this past spring.” Her voice is curt.
Patrick visibly cringes. “Sorry,” he says begrudgingly.
“Just stop talking,” I say, when he opens his mouth to speak again.
This is why I wonder how he got a woman like Rabecca. Once Patrick starts digging a hole, it’s as if his brain wonders… how deep can I dig this hole?
“What’d you study?” I ask.
“Nursing,” she answers. “I’m studying for the boards right now.” Her cheeks are a pretty shade of pink. And she’s not wearing any makeup. The girl is stunning.
“Hey boys!” the waitress says before looking up at us. Her big smile dims when she looks at me.
Now I inwardly cringe. I mentioned that I don’t date, but I’m not a monk. What are the odds that a woman I slept with a month ago is now a waitress here?
“Caine?” Pamela asks. Her eyes dart between me, the little beauty beside me and my brother. “I… I thought I would have heard from you.” Her cheeks flush.
Pamela is a pretty woman. She’s tall, with long black hair and pretty brown eyes. But after I slept with her, I knew it was a mistake because she started asking me when we’d see each other again.
I.Don’t.Date.
I met her at a bar. We fucked. I thought we were on the same page. So, I did what any guy would do in that situation. I grabbed my shit, and I ran.
I’ve never claimed to be a nice guy.
“Just in town for the auction.” I avoid her obvious question. “Can I get the Amber Ale, a Caesar salad and the Porterhouse medium rare with the mashed potatoes.”
My God, am I a dick.
“Of course.” She might push that pencil straight through that paper.
“I’ll have the same,” my brother says with a smirk. “Ouch!” he says when I kick him under the table on his shin.
“And for you, honey?” Pamela asks.
“Can I have a garden salad with the balsamic vinaigrette, the ribeye, medium rare and the mashed potatoes, please. And can I have a glass of the house red?”
“Honey, we don’t serve alcohol to minors. Your daddy knows better than to let you drink.” Pamela rests her hand on her hip, shaking her head at Micky.
“My daddy is dead, and I’m twenty-three.” Micky hands Pamela her ID and sits quietly while Pamela looks it over.
“Today is your birthday?” Pamela asks quietly, her voice shaking with unease.
Well, at least I know she’s over the legal age to drink. Does that make me less creepy?
Micky clears her throat. “Yes,” she croaks out, taking her ID back and putting it in her wallet.
“Wow, I honestly don’t think that could have been any more awkward.” Patrick sits back in his chair as Pamela walks away.
I turn my head and look at Micky. “Today’s your birthday?” I ignore my brother.
Micky shrugs. “I’d rather be alone. I’m not the best company.” I can see the tears well up in her eyes before Micky turns her attention back to her water.
“Why is that?” I find myself asking.
“It’s complicated.” There is a bit of an edge in her voice.
You’d think that would be a good indicator that she didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that was “complicated,” but apparently, today, I’m just swinging for the fences of the major league asshole hall of fame.
“Why are you alone on your birthday, and don’t give me that garbage about it being complicated,” I demand, turning my full attention to her. No one should feel or be alone on their birthday.
Micky stiffens in her seat and turns a very dark shade of red.
“Well, Caine, you appear to be living up to your namesake by effectively killing my night, but fine. My father died four months ago after battling cancer for three years, and three days ago I walked in on my mother having sex with my boyfriend. Does that answer your question?” Her tone is snide.
“That doesn’t sound all that complicated,” Patrick says. I turn my head to my brother and kick him again. “What?” he asks, rubbing his shin. “Maybe you should call Pamela back over so you can get your dick…” Patrick moves his body around to avoid my next kick.
“Oh my God!” Micky exclaims with a laugh. She covers her mouth with her hand in an attempt to hide it, but she can’t seem to stop giggling.
I watch as her entire body shakes with mirth. And her laugh, it’s low and husky, beautiful.
“Oh my God!” she says again as she dabs her napkin under her eyes. “Thank you for that, Patrick. I needed that.”
“I’m perpetually saying shit I shouldn’t, so I’m happy someone got something positive out of it.” My brother chuckles, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. Why does he look smug, the dumbass?
“Your drinks.” Pamela slams my beer in front of me, spilling some onto the tablecloth. “For your date,” she adds through gritted teeth when she places Micky’s wine in front of her.
“Not a date. Met ten minutes ago, and that isn’t an exaggeration,” Micky says, holding up her index finger.
“You picked her up at my work?” Pamela asks, turning her dagger-like glare on me.
“He had no way of knowing you worked here,” Patrick says, not helping.
Micky laughs again, covering her mouth unsuccessfully.
“He’s not that funny,” I say when Micky starts to wave her hand in apology.
“It’s the entire thing,” she chokes out. “He didn’t pick me up, miss. Caine felt bad when I was skipped over for a table. But honey, he’s not interested. And you’re gorgeous. Don’t waste your energy on a guy who isn’t worth what you have to give.”
I’m pretty sure I was just insulted somewhere in that little speech, but Pamela is smiling, so I keep my mouth shut.
“Thank you,” Pamela says. “I’m sorry, this was just…”
“Weird?” Micky asks, raising her brows.
“Yes!”
“Honey, I’m full of weird this week. Trust me, this is nothing compared to what I’ve been through. Just one more weird day.” Micky shrugs, a smile dancing on her lips.
“I’m not that bad,” I say defensively after Pamela walks away.
Micky giggles. “Yes, you are. All you had to do was tell her you didn’t want a relationship. You just avoided telling her, and that made it worse.”
“I met her once a month ago in a bar!” I defend. “We didn’t even go on a date.”
Micky bobs her head from side to side. “Okay, then she’s a little crazy. Next time don’t fuck a crazy,” she says before taking a sip of her wine. After a few moments of silence, I look over and see that Micky is giggling again.
“Are you drunk?” I notice her cheeks are flushed.
“I may not have eaten today,” she says in a sing-song voice.
“Fuck me.” This girl is going to kill me. I run my fingers through my hair and count to ten.
Half a glass of wine and Micky is practically on the floor. Her cheeks are red, and she can’t seem to stop giggling.
“Hey, lightweight,” Patrick says, handing her the basket of bread.
“Ooh! Thanks!” She reaches over excitedly, her eyes all big and round. “Yum.” She hums as she slathers on a huge amount of butter. She sways to the side, a dreamy look on her face.
I bristle in silence, shocked at how much butter she’s putting on that roll. I wonder how it would look slathered all over her…
“Oh, come on, Grandpa! Don’t be a stick in the mud!” She frowns at me, disapprovingly.
“I’m not a grandpa.” I do nothing to disguise my irritation.
Talk about a hit to the gut. I’m sitting here picturing this girl naked, and she just called me grandpa. I have a full head of black hair, thank you very much, and I barely have any gray. Barely!
Grandpa. Fucking Grandpa!
“You made him mad. Do it again! It’s fun when it’s not directed at me,” Patrick says. I kick him again. “Shit!” he mutters, rubbing his shin. “Stop doing that!”
“Shut it,” I grumble, pointing a finger at him.
“It’s okay, Gramps, don’t take that anger out on your son. He’s gonna cut up your steak nice and fast. I promise,” Micky teases, rubbing my arm up and down as if I were a child.
Then I see it… and feel it when her hand stops moving.
I might be forty years old, but I don’t look it. And I sure as shit don’t feel like it either.