Yep, another rumor hot off the gossip mill press. As to its validity, I didn’t know that, either.
“How young?”
Boobs shrugged. “I don’t know. Teenagers, probably.” The woman obviously didn’t get all the details, but that didn’t stop her from assuming, apparently.
However, that was how I had come to understand it, too. At least, according to the rumor mill, which I happened to be quite knowledgeable about since no one seemed to care that I was walking around, pouring coffee, taking and delivering orders. They treated me as though I didn’t have ears most of the time, which worked well for me. It helped to pass the time.
Truth was, I didn’t know the first non-rumor detail about the Caine cousins, but I was as curious as the next person; I wouldn’t lie. When they dropped by, they rarely spoke, and never at length about anything, yet I wouldn’t say they were exactly unapproachable. Just quiet.
They had a specific table they sat at, which allowed both of them to keep their eyes on the door. It also prevented anyone from sneaking up behind them. Well, maybe that wasn’t the real reason they chose to sit there, but it was the reason I had made up in my head.
Evidently, I wasn’t above making shit up, either.
The two cousins looked remarkably similar, although different at the same time. Both had jet-black hair. Lynx’s was more of a Mohawk, while Wolfe sported the shorn sides, but not the spikey thing. Granted, they wore cowboy hats most of the time. And if they didn’t have on Stetsons, they were wearing John Deere caps—yes, those were apparently a thing. Both usually had that sexy scruff on their jaws and emerald-green eyes that saw far too much.
For the most part, they seemed friendly, not at all menacing despite the intimidation factor, but I had gotten the feeling that they worked hard to pull that off.
“Is it true that they’re ridiculously tall? Like six-seven or something?”
I coughed to cover up a laugh.
“Oh, definitely,” Boobs assured Tank Top. “Wolfe definitely is. I think Lynx might be taller.”
I wondered if this was how fishermen’s stories got so warped and twisted. In a minute, I figured the two women would claim the Caine cousins had penises as long and thick as baseball bats.
I rolled my eyes as I grabbed a fresh pot of coffee and continued my rounds. Yes, the two men were tall, sure. Above average, definitely. But not record-breaking heights by any means. They were significantly taller than I was. At five five, I had to look way up at them. Since they were usually sitting when I was around, that wasn’t much of a problem.
“The sheriff does it, too,” Boobs noted.
“Does what?” Tank Top questioned.
“Shares his women.” The woman’s voice lowered slightly.
“Shut up! I heard he was into men.”
Boobs offered a one-shoulder shrug.
I had no idea where that story had originated, but I'd heard a variation of it as well. Of course, I did my best not to pay attention. What the men in this town did in their spare time was none of my business.
Boobs sipped her coffee. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“No?” Tank Top’s eyes were skeptical. “Wouldn’t that be hot?”
I put the coffeepot back on the burner, then grabbed a towel to clean the two tables that just cleared out.
“It would.” Boobs giggled. “I’d definitely like to watch me some man-on-man action.”
Wow. Okay.
“I want to know more about the sharing thing,” Tank Top declared.
“No, you wanna know if what they say about Wolfe is true. If his mouth’s as dirty as they claim. Or what about Lynx? I hear he’s worse—or better, I guess you’d say—than Wolfe.”
“I’m not partial,” Tank Top said with another giggle. “I’d be interested to find out about the sheriff, too. They say the quiet ones are the dirtiest.”
Who said that? I had never heard a single person say that before.
Sheesh.
