I shook my head in disbelief. Every single—as in unattached—woman who had walked through those doors wanted to know what the Caine cousins were like in bed. At least one, if not both of them. Hell, one group of women had talked about taking Wolfe and Lynx on at once.
“I hear Wolfe likes to watch,” Tank Top said.
“And to be watched,” Boobs noted. “And I’ve heard he even watches?—”
The bell over the door jingled at the same time Boobs stopped talking. I stood up straight, grabbing the two empty glasses from the table, and turned in time to see none other than Wolfe sauntering in the door.
One of the women giggled. It was rather embarrassing for all of womankind.
“Hey, Amy,” he greeted as he passed by the counter on the way to his table.
His voice was like dark velvet. Smooth and warm and…
God, he smelled good.
Yeah.
After everything I had been through, I should’ve been completely immune to the seduction of his voice and the sexy scent of him, yet…
I shook off the thought and grabbed two coffee mugs—I knew Lynx would be along any second now—and the pot of coffee, then made my way over to their table. Without making too much eye contact, I poured the black liquid into the cups. “I’ll have your food out shortly.”
Like clockwork, the bells jingled and in walked Lynx. He tilted his hat in my direction, then headed directly to Wolfe.
And now that they were here, it was time for me to fade into the background, or blend in with the wallpaper, as was the case here. The Caine cousins might be a hot topic surrounded by a lot of speculation, but I had my own secrets to deal with. Ones I had to protect in order to survive. Including my identity.
Otherwise, I was as good as dead.
Shoring up my nerve, I returned to the counter and looked for something to do while I waited for their food to be ready. The place was practically empty this morning. It was during times like this that I got fidgety, hating that I could feel the Caine cousins’ eyes on me, but I didn’t know what they were thinking. It was as though they’d practiced the art of being expressionless. Even their eyes held no secrets. Not that I let myself look for long. I preferred to be invisible and that was an art form in itself.
One I'd mastered and fully intended to keep it that way.
Kelly Jackson
I kept the car running as I sat in the parking lot of the small diner. From my spot, I could see her, watch her as she moved from one side of the diner to the other, helping customers, smiling even. I knew she couldn’t see me. And even if she did glance out the window, even if she could see past the glare of the sun glinting off my windshield, she wouldn’t recognize me.
But I recognized her. Even though she’d attempted to lighten her hair, even though she’d lost quite a bit of weight. I still recognized her. I would always recognize her.
I had to admit, the new look wasn’t a good one for her. She was too fucking skinny and the blond hair did nothing for her. At first, it had pissed me off to see that she’d tried to alter her appearance. Of course, I doubted the weight loss was intentional. That was most likely due to the injuries she’d sustained, the time she’d spent in the hospital, the months she’d spent on the run.
But I still sat there.
I still watched her.
Biding my time.
One day I would make my presence known.
I would finish what I should’ve finished a long damn time ago.
Wolfe
“Where the fuck did the weekend go?” Lynx griped when he joined me at the table.
I peered at my cousin, trying to decipher his mood.
“Hell if I know,” I replied, although I suspected the question was rhetorical.
I knew where my weekend went. I'd spent most of my time working on a ridiculously oversized twelve-foot dining room table for Mrs. Stephenson. She’d told me there was no rush, but the woman obviously didn’t know what that meant. The fact that she’d been dropping by—not an easy feat for a woman who lived thirty minutes away—every day had forced me to insist she hold off until I was finished. Of course, that had only incentivized her to call at least twice a day to check on my progress. Since we’d lost our office manager two months ago when she decided to up and marry one of the ranch hands out at the Double D, I had been dealing directly with our customers. Which was the reason I'd finished up the table over the weekend. The only thing left was the chairs and I fully intended to knock those out soon. I got the feeling Mrs. Stephenson’s surprise visits and frequent phone calls were getting a little more intimate than they should.
