Hard to Hold

by Nicole Edwards

  What the fuck?

  Wolfe glanced over at Amy, then around the room, wishing like hell someone could fill him in on what was going on. Everyone who knew them looked as surprised as Wolfe.

  “Watch your goddamn mouth,” Lynx snarled.

  Amy chuckled beside him. That was Lynx for you. Cursing while telling someone else not to.

  “Fuck off, Caine,” Billy growled.

  “Billy, stop,” Reagan said, placing her hand on his arm.

  Billy shrugged her off. “Always defendin’ that asshole. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were suckin’ his dick instead of mine.”

  The room went deafeningly silent. No chatter, no clank of silverware, no hiss from the griddle in the kitchen. Absolutely nothing except for the warning growl that emanated from Lynx seconds before he reached over and ripped Billy right up out of his chair.

  “Lynx, don’t!” Reagan yelled, jumping up and sending her chair over backwards.

  “Stay here,” Wolfe instructed Amy, getting to his feet at the same time two more cowboys in the back stood.

  No one took kindly to men treating women the way Billy did.

  Wolfe held up a hand to halt the two cowboys, letting them know he’d handle it. Wolfe shoved the door open harder than necessary, watching as Lynx dragged Billy halfway across the parking lot.

  “Lynx, let him go,” Reagan hollered, moving in close.

  Wolfe got to her in seconds, picking Reagan up off her feet and pulling her back.

  “Put me down, you asshole!”

  “Chill, darlin’,” Wolfe crooned. “He ain’t gonna kill him. Although he probably deserves it.”

  “If I ever fuckin’ hear you say some shit like that again,” Lynx hissed, his hand fisted in Billy’s shirt as he held the man in place, “I will beat you so fuckin’ bad your momma won’t recognize you no more.”

  The sound of tires on gravel had Wolfe looking over. The familiar dark brown truck pulled to a stop right beside Lynx and Billy. Rhys climbed out, shoving his hat on his head. The man was wearing his signature Wranglers and white button-down shirt, badge clipped to his hip, gun holstered there, too.

  “Let him go, Lynx.” Rhys’s deep voice rang with a command most men wouldn’t ignore.

  Wolfe set Reagan on her feet with a soft warning for her to stay put.

  Lynx released Billy with a shove that sent the other man sprawling in the dust and rock.

  “I wanna press charges!” Billy yelled. “This asshole hit me.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Billy,” Wolfe warned. “Provoke him a little more and he will fuckin’ hit you. And if he doesn’t, I will.”

  To Wolfe’s surprise, Reagan didn’t run over to Billy. Again, he had no fucking clue what she saw in that asshole.

  Lynx turned, his hard gaze slamming into Reagan. “He’s a fuckin’ loser, Reagan. You can do a helluva lot better than that.”

  With that, Lynx turned and walked inside.

  Wolfe decided to join him.

  After all, the show was over. The sheriff was there.

  Rhys stood in front of his truck, watching as the Caine cousins went inside, leaving Billy Watson’s ass sitting on the ground.

  Had he known what he would find when he got here, Rhys would’ve ignored the call and let Lynx take care of Billy.

  Never having been one to hate anyone, Rhys fucking hated Billy. Hated him with a passion. He wanted to kill the fucker for the way he treated Rhys’s sister. The only thing stopping him was the fact that Billy wasn’t worth the prison sentence Rhys would get.

  Choosing to ignore Billy, Rhys turned to his sister. “What the hell’s goin’ on, Reagan?”

  “Nothin’,” she snapped, not looking at him.

  “You better fuckin’ tell him that Lynx hit me, goddammit. I’m so fuckin’ tired of you defendin’ his ass.”

  “Fuck you,” Reagan hissed, the words so soft Rhys hardly heard her and he was standing right beside her.

  “What did you say?” Billy launched to his feet.

  Right before his eyes, something inside his sister snapped. Reagan’s back straightened as she watched Billy right his shirt before dusting his jeans off. “I said fuck you.”

  “You’re fuckin’ him, aren’t you?” Billy accused, grabbing his ball cap from the ground. “I always knew you were whorin’ around on me. And you wonder why I get pussy on the side. It’s because of this shit right here.”

  Reagan’s face hardened, her brown eyes practically burning with fury. “I’ve never stepped out on you, Billy Watson. But I’m done. I’m so fucking done.”

  Reagan spun around on her boot heel and headed over to her truck. When Billy started to follow, Rhys grabbed him by the back of the shirt and yanked him back. “No you don’t.”

  Billy jerked out of his grip. “Get your fuckin’ hands off me.”

  Rhys straightened as he looked the other man square in the eye. “Look here, you little piece of shit. I’ve tolerated you because, for whatever fuckin’ reason, my sister has put up with your shit. But don’t think I won’t haul your ass in.”

  “For what?”

  Unfortunately, Rhys didn’t have a good reason. He couldn’t arrest the guy for being an asshole. If he could, Billy Watson would’ve been behind bars a long-ass time ago.

  “Go home, Billy. And stay the fuck away from my sister.”

  Billy’s chest puffed out, a sardonic smile tilting his mouth. “She’ll be back. She always comes back. She can’t live without me.”

  Yeah, unfortunately, Rhys figured that was true. Reagan did always go back to Billy no matter what the damned fool did or said. The only reason Rhys didn’t interfere was because up to this point, Billy had never laid a hand on her. Then again, he didn’t have to in order to inflict pain. His verbal assault was just as bad. Which, Rhys figured, was the very reason Lynx had interfered this morning. God only knew what the little shithead had said.

  “Stay the fuck away from her,” Rhys warned. “Or I will sic Lynx on you, you dumb fuck.”

  Stepping back, Rhys nodded in the direction of Billy’s piece-of-shit Dodge.

  When the parking lot cleared, Rhys turned toward the diner. He noticed Lynx standing at the window, watching him, his beefy arms crossed over his chest. The guy looked pissed, and Rhys couldn’t blame him.

  He wasn’t privy to what had ever transpired between Reagan and Lynx, but Rhys had always suspected there was something there. They both made stupid decisions day in and day out, and Rhys had the feeling it was because they were avoiding the real issue at hand. Whatever that might be.

  Figuring it would only cause a scene, Rhys decided to bypass going inside. He’d catch up with Wolfe and Amy later.

  In the meantime, he was going to head to the office. There was some information he was eager to dive into.

  Lynx wasn’t prone to regret. However, as he stood at the window and stared out at the little fucker getting into his POS, he regretted that he hadn’t pounded his fist into that shithead’s face.

  What the fuck Reagan saw in Billy, Lynx didn’t know. He would never know. Every damn time he thought she was going to walk away from the little shit, she ended up taking his sorry ass back.

  And it pissed Lynx off to no end.

  There was a cowboy code that Lynx lived by. You didn’t touch another man’s girl. No matter what.

  For years he’d wanted to get his hands on Reagan. Unfortunately, she’d been with Billy, which meant she was off-limits. And every damn time he saw the two of them together, Lynx wanted to strangle the fucker.

  A man did not treat a woman the way Billy Watson treated Reagan. A woman should be worshipped, loved. Not treated like the dirt beneath his feet.

  His eyes strayed to Reagan’s truck as she peeled out of the parking lot. He was tempted to go after her, to insist that she break up with Billy for good, that she give him a fucking chance to show her just how damn good the two of them would be together. Hell, that kiss they’d shared all those years ago should�
��ve been enough to convince her.

  But Lynx couldn’t do that.

  If Reagan was meant to be his—and he suspected that was what fate had in store for him—then she would come to him.

  Until then, he’d just go on living his life one day at a time.

  Waiting.

  Always fucking waiting.

  12

  __________

  Amy was quickly starting to think that trouble followed the Caine cousins like a hungry puppy looking for scraps. Or perhaps they were the magnet for it. She hadn’t been sure what to expect when Wolfe invited her to breakfast, but watching a near-brawl in the parking lot hadn’t been anywhere on the list.

  Of course, Amy had met Reagan’s boyfriend, Billy, but only once, and that had been one night at the bar. He’d come in to play pool with a couple of his buddies, and right there in the back of the room, he’d blatantly flirted with some blonde, not to mention Amy. His slimy smile had put her on edge, though, and Amy had stayed as far from him as she could manage.

  Amy had suspected there was trouble in paradise, but she hadn’t realized it was quite that bad. Having watched that asshole talk to Reagan like that made Amy want to go find Reagan to see if she was all right. Since Amy didn’t have to work tonight, she wouldn’t have a chance to talk to Reagan then. Or maybe she could. She’d just stop by the bar for a minute.

  Yep. That was what she would do.

  But right now, she had to get back to work. The rest of their breakfast had gone smoothly, although Lynx hadn’t stuck around. As soon as Rhys left, Lynx was out the door without a word to anyone. She’d half expected Wolfe to say something about it, but he never did, and Amy wasn’t the type to bring it up, so they’d shared minimal small talk.

  And now she was once again tucked away in the office, finishing up her filing. She didn’t have but a few more to go, and she knew she couldn’t pretend to do it for long. For one, she would get bored if she didn’t have something to do. So, after tucking away the last invoices where they belonged, she got to her feet and decided she’d go back to her own office and wait for the phone to ring.

  When she stepped out, she heard voices downstairs, so she peeked over the rail and noticed a tall brunette standing close to Wolfe, the two of them looking at a table.

  Amy gave the woman a quick once-over, starting with the four-inch black pumps, the A-line skirt that molded to her curvy body, and the white silk shirt that showed off her generous breasts.

  She noticed how Wolfe took a step to the side, putting some space between them as he pointed out something on the table. The woman quickly closed the distance between them, her hand coming to rest on Wolfe’s arm.

  Nope.

  Uh-uh.

  A foreign possessiveness flooded Amy, and the next thing she knew, she was walking down the stairs, her boots clanging on the metal. Wolfe’s eyes quickly shot to her, and Amy saw relief, as though her coming down was going to possibly save him from the woman with the red talons practically digging into his forearm.

  “Hey,” she greeted, walking right up to the two of them. “I didn’t realize we had someone coming to pick up a piece today.”

  Wolfe glanced at the brunette, then at Amy. “Amy, this is Melissa Stephenson. Mrs. Stephenson, this is Amy Smith. She’s our new office manager.”

  Mrs. Stephenson.

  No doubt, Wolfe had tacked that on to remind the woman that she was married.

  Not that it seemed to faze her. She didn’t take her hand off Wolfe’s arm.

  Amy gave her another once-over, starting with her professionally highlighted brown hair, her painted-on eyebrows, the fancy shimmering eye shadow, dark liner around her eyes, and the shiny gloss on her red lips. All the way down to her perfectly painted toes peeking out of her impractical shoes.

  “Nice to meet you, Amy.” The woman said her name like it gave her a bad taste in her mouth.

  “You, too,” Amy said. “Is this your dining table?”

  When the two of them turned toward the table, Amy purposely inserted herself between them. It was almost funny considering Amy looked like a child standing between her parents.

  “It is. Wolfe was just explaining the process to me.”

  The process? Really?

  How freaking hard could it be? The woman surely knew what it took to build a table, slap some stain and sealant on it.

  Okay, so maybe it wasn’t that easy, but it shouldn’t require an educational course.

  “It’ll be delivered on Friday,” Wolfe informed her, his hand sliding down Amy’s back, his finger hooking into the belt loop on the back of her jeans. Anyone looking at them would likely miss the movement, but his simple touch stole the air from Amy’s lungs momentarily.

  “I’d like for you to personally deliver it,” Mrs. Stephenson said, turning to face Wolfe. “I’ll pay extra.”

  Wolfe was shaking his head.

  “I’m sorry,” Amy inserted. “That won’t be possible. Wolfe has another project he has to have completed by then.” She didn’t know that for sure, but hey, it sounded good.

  Wolfe tugged at her belt loop and Amy had to bite back a smile.

  “Then I can wait for it,” Mrs. Stephenson said. “Just pencil me in for the next available day that you can deliver it. I’m not trusting it in anyone else’s hands.”

  Wolfe sighed.

  “I’ll check the calendar,” Amy told her. “And I’ll call you to let you know.”

  “That’ll be perfect.” The woman’s eyes never left Wolfe’s face.

  It wasn’t enough that the woman was married. Based on the crow’s feet around her eyes and the permanent wrinkle in her forehead, Amy would guess the woman was over fifty. At least two decades older than Wolfe.

  A cougar after a Wolfe.

  Amy laughed but managed to cover it up with a cough. Sort of.

  She turned to Wolfe. “I actually need your help with something upstairs, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure.” His eyes said he knew she was full of shit.

  Ignoring him, she turned to Mrs. Stephenson. “I’ll call you this afternoon with a new appointment.”

  The woman turned to Wolfe. “Walk me to my car?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  Well, it looked as though she hadn’t been able to save the day after all.

  Amy watched as Wolfe walked the well-dressed woman out the door and into the blistering Texas sun. Not knowing whether she should wait for Wolfe to return, Amy decided she would get back to work. Something told her he would come find her when he was ready.

  “A cougar after a Wolfe,” she muttered to herself, giggling as she bounced up the stairs. “Now that’s funny.”

  Looked as though Amy Smith was a bit of a spitfire.

  Wolfe thought about how she’d discreetly come between him and Mrs. Stephenson, obviously in an attempt to protect him from the viperous woman. He liked that she had.

  “I really appreciate your little helper making this happen,” Mrs. Stephenson said as Wolfe opened the door of her Lexus for her. It wasn’t that he was being overly gentlemanly, but his upbringing wouldn’t allow him to be rude. Not to a lady. Not even a man-hungry one like Mrs. Stephenson.

  She rubbed up against him, the scent of her perfume assaulting his nose. He was pretty sure the woman had bathed in that shit.

  “Hopefully she’s competent enough to get it taken care of correctly.”

  How fucking hard could it be to schedule an appointment? Jesus. The woman made it sound like rocket science.

  “She will,” he assured her, waiting as she got situated in her car.

  After pushing her sunglasses on her face, the woman stared up at him. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

  He nodded, then shut the door, turning to walk away before the engine started.

  Thankfully, he remembered they had a box of Cedar Door T-shirts stashed on one of the shelves. He quickly made his way over and snatched one. He traded it for the one that had the stench of overpriced perfume
and then headed up the stairs. Wolfe found Amy in the break room, retrieving a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

  He stepped inside, shut the door, then leaned against it, keeping his eyes on her. On her ass, specifically, because Lord have mercy, her ass was so damn sweet in those jeans.

  Wolfe was still staring as she turned to face him. He slowly lifted his gaze to her face.

  She was smiling.

  He lowered an eyebrow and pinned her with a glare. “What was that?”

  He saw right through the innocent countenance that washed over her features.

  “What was what?” Her sweet tone didn’t fool him, either.

  The corner of his mouth tipped up. The woman was something else. The more he was around her, the more he got to know her, the more he liked her. No, he didn’t know the first damn thing about her past, but he knew what he needed to in order to form an opinion. The fact of the matter was, Wolfe liked Amy Smith.

  A lot.

  “Come here.” Wolfe pointed to the spot directly in front of him.

  Amy set the water down, then moved to the spot he’d pointed at.

  Her smile was still in place. “Yes?”

  Wolfe tilted his head, studying her face. “You’re so damn pretty,” he found himself saying.

  That seemed to surprise her, but her smile didn’t falter. “Uh … thank you?”

  “I think you’ve got a devious side,” he teased. “One I’d like to get to know better.”

  “Me?” Her wide brown eyes were full of feigned innocence. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You came all the way down those stairs to protect me from that viper.”

  Amy giggled. “I was thinking she was more like a cougar, but that works, too.”

  Unable to resist touching her, Wolfe put his hands on her hips and pulled her against him. She placed her palms flat on his chest, slowly sliding them north toward his neck.

  “I like when you touch me,” he admitted.

  “I like when you touch me, too,” she said softly.

  “All the things I wanna do to you…”