Page 17 of Hard to Hold
“Don’t bother denyin’ it, Caine. I know you’ve got a protective streak.”
Maybe that was true, but I wasn’t going to let the sheriff rile me. “I’m not takin’ in strays, Sheriff.”
“No?”
I was tired of this conversation already. “I’ve got shit to do, Rhys. If you don’t mind…”
Our eyes remained locked for a few seconds more than I was comfortable with, then he turned and headed for the door.
I stared after him until I heard the man’s truck leave the parking lot. I'd just turned back to cleaning up my mess when Lynx stormed into the room.
“Son of a bitch!”
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Tammy stole my goddamn truck.”
I processed the words, and when they sank in, I roared with laughter. That woman was something else. Not only was she vindictive, she was also batshit crazy. Which made her double trouble. Oftentimes, I wondered what the hell Lynx had seen in her, anyway, never mind why the hell he’d been inclined to marry the loony bitch. Well, other than the fact that the crazy woman had claimed to be pregnant. People could say whatever they wanted about Lynx, but he was a stand-up guy.
Granted, their marriage hadn’t lasted the better part of a year, but according to my cousin, that was twice as long as it should’ve lasted.
“Rhys just left,” I noted when I stopped laughing. “Want me to call him back here?”
Lynx shot a death glare my way, then stormed up the stairs, leaving me fighting the urge to laugh again.
When the office door slammed, I lost the battle.
Rhys
I pulled out of the lot and onto the main road through town. Four minutes later, I took a left turn and headed to the oversized five-bedroom farmhouse I'd grown up in. It was Monday, which meant I was going to check on my grandfather, make sure all was well. It was the only time I could get alone with the man. If I stopped by on the weekend, there was generally tons of family hanging around. Aunts, uncles, cousins all there to spend time with the patriarch of the family.
The long dirt road leading up to the house had seen better days. I blamed my younger cousins for that. At sixteen, kids in this town seemed to think that driving through the mud was a rite of passage. I merely wished they’d find somewhere other than Pawpaw’s house to do their thing.
After parking my truck in the ruts in front of the house, I climbed out, looked around. Someone needed to come out and mow the front yard. I'd have to remember to call the brats who’d made the mud hole, have them come over and put their restless energy to good use.
“Boy?”
“I’m here, Pawpaw,” I greeted, my boots echoing on the rotted wood porch.
Grabbing the screen door handle, I pulled it open. I found my grandfather sitting in his favorite chair—the one that my grandmother had sat in when she was alive—beside the picture window that overlooked the driveway and the big oak tree in front of the house. All the lights in the house were off, the sun shining through the window and highlighting the lingering smoke and dust motes. It seemed the air conditioner was working, despite the fact the old man kept the front door open.
Victor Trevino looked old, tired. Then again, he’d looked that way for the past two decades. He was a two-pack-a-day smoker who drank Schlitz from morning till night, and I figured the old man’s permanent scowl had something to do with too much nicotine and far too much beer.
“How’re you doin’?” I asked, leaning against the wall. I knew better than to make myself comfortable. These days, Vic preferred to be alone most of the time. He said it was enough that my mother still insisted on living with him despite the fact my old man had kicked the bucket.
Having raised three boys, Vic liked to say Cheryl Trevino was the daughter he’d never wanted. Although the old man tried to pretend he didn’t like her, I knew he appreciated her help. She’d put up with a lot of shit over the years, all in the name of family. Her own parents had disowned her when she up and married William Trevino, claiming the guy wasn’t good enough for her. They’d probably been right, but she’d never strayed.
Although her life would be significantly less stressful if she lived on her own, she stayed with Vic to help out around the house, plus to keep the vultures that were my family from stealing every damn thing the man owned. Somehow, they managed to make it work between them. But when she was at work, Vic wanted a little peace and quiet, or so he said.
“I’m a grumpy old man. How d’you think I’m doin’?” The cough that followed was a testament to all those damn cigarettes.
“Ornery as ever,” I noted. “Good to see some things never change.”
Vic spared me a quick glance, then looked out the window again. “You ain’t found you some sweet girl who’ll put up with that smart mouth yet?”
I smirked. “Not yet, Pawpaw.” No sexy cowboy, either.
Not that I'd mention that part. The one time my grandfather had heard that I had been with a man, the guy had stopped talking to me for a month. I was merely grateful he hadn’t disowned me.
