“Well, do us all a favor and find one, would ya? It ain’t natural for a boy your age to be single.”
I was thirty-four, but to hear my grandfather say it made me feel a hell of a lot older than that.
“Probably not,” I said in an effort to appease the old man. “You or Momma need anything?”
“The dishwasher’s actin’ up again,” he informed me, waving me off with gnarled fingers clutching the butt of a cigarette.
“Well, that’s because it’s twenty years old. You know, they make ’em real nice these days.”
“Heh. Ain’t forkin’ out no more money for shit like that. Your momma’s the only one who complains. Far as I’m concerned, God gave her hands. She can put ’em to good use.”
I glanced toward the kitchen, rolling my eyes as I did. Ornery was an understatement when it came to my grandfather. The man was downright mean.
Pushing off the wall, I glanced back at Vic. “All right. I’ll give it a look, then I’m headin’ back to the office. Sure you don’t need anything?”
Vic shook his head but didn’t look at me.
As much as I loved the old fart, Monday afternoons certainly weren’t the highlight of my week.
Two hours later, sitting at the desk in my office, I propped my booted feet up on the desk and waited for the newest arrival to make his way down the hall. I'd heard Lynx Caine raising hell the second the man walked into the building five minutes ago.
Not that I wondered what the man wanted. The grapevine had already delivered the news to every-damn-body that Lynx’s crazy, soon-to-be ex-wife had stolen his truck right out of his driveway.
“Whose dick do I have to suck to get shit done around here?” Lynx bellowed.
Dropping my feet to the floor, I wiped the grin off my face and met the irate expression of our most recent crime victim. Not that Lynx Caine was a victim. The rumor was that he’d been banging some girl on his lunch break and Tammy—not-so-lovingly nicknamed Lynx’s Stalker by the folks in town—had busted him.
Not that I was defending the crazy bitch. The fact that Tammy had moved out of my county didn’t hurt my feelings none.
“What the fuck, Trevino?” Lynx grumbled when he stepped into the small office.
“Nice to see you, too.”
“I want my goddamn truck back.”
“I’m sure you do. Kinda hard to take the girls home after you finish the job without it.”
Lynx glared at me, a look that I was all too familiar with.
“The papers are filed,” Lynx countered defensively. “I wasn’t cheatin’.”
“Don’t need to explain it to me. I don’t care who you’re bangin’. Or where. But I think you’ve learned your lesson about leavin’ your keys in your truck.”
Lynx flipped me off.
“Your truck’s out back,” I informed him.
Lynx’s dark eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “What?”
Chuckling, I opened my top desk drawer and retrieved the set of keys I'd stashed there. I tossed them over to Lynx. “We pulled Tammy over just south of the county line for speedin’. She admitted to bein’ pissed when she saw your bare ass and some redhead beneath you on your couch. We told her we’d talk you outta pressin’ charges if she gave it back without a fight.”
Lynx dropped into the chair. “Goddamn. I’m so fuckin’ sick of this shit.”
I felt sorry for the man. Sort of. The Caine cousins were a wild bunch, always had been. However, underneath the wild exterior, they weren’t bad guys. Hell, I had been pretty damned impressed when Lynx married the girl in the first place and put forth the effort to be a good husband. Turned out, Tammy had faked being knocked up in order to land one of the Caine cousins. Lynx had been the unfortunate one who’d banged her in the first place.
From the second the news hit town that Lynx had gotten hitched, there’d been a few bets that he would be the one to stray. To everyone’s shock, Tammy had hooked up with one of the wranglers over at Dead Heat Ranch. Lynx had caught the two of them buck-ass naked in the bed of his truck, in fact.
Guy deserved a break.
