Page 43 of Hard to Hold
She grinned. “You know what I mean.”
I looked at Wolfe.
“I come here with Lynx most of the time. My dad’ll sometimes wander out here, too.”
“What he’s not sayin’ is that they’ve had some serious parties down by this lake.”
Amy canted her head to the side. “Is it true what they say about you and Lynx? Were y’all really that wild?”
Wolfe grinned. “Probably.”
“No probably about it,” I countered. “And they haven’t grown out of it, either.”
Amy smiled, taking another bite of her donut. “What about you, Sheriff? I’m sure you weren’t all sweet and innocent.”
“Oh, he was a good little church boy,” Wolfe said, his voice gruff, teasing.
“Yep. I was.”
“Really?” Amy didn’t look convinced.
“No.” I hadn’t been nearly as wild as the Caine cousins, but I'd started enough shit back in the day.
“Do you go to church?” Amy looked from one to the other. “Either of you?”
“Yep,” Wolfe admitted. “We do.”
“Does Lynx?” she asked, grinning.
“He does.” Wolfe laughed. “Why? You think he needs to find God?”
Amy laughed. “I didn’t say that.” She took another bite. “How old are you?”
She was looking at me, so I answered. “Thirty-four.”
Amy nodded, then looked at Wolfe, lifting an eyebrow.
“I’ll be thirty in August.”
“Hmm.” She tore a piece of her donut off. “Y’all are old.” Her eyes lifted to our and she laughed.
“Watch it, little girl, or I’ll toss your ass back in that water,” Wolfe told her as he reached out and flipped her hair.
Amy grinned. “I really like it here.”
“Here?” I took a sip of my coffee. “Like right here?”
“Yes. Right here.” Her face sobered somewhat. “With the two of you.”
There was a strange warmth that filled my chest at her admission. Amy Smith—or whatever her name really was—was going to have me wrapped around her little finger if she wasn’t careful.
Oh, hell, who was I kidding?
I was over halfway there.
Chapter Eight
Amy
