Hard to Hold

by Nicole Edwards

  HARD TO HOLD

  By Nicole Edwards

  The Alluring Indulgence Series

  Kaleb

  Zane

  Travis

  Holidays with the Walker Brothers

  Ethan

  Braydon

  Sawyer

  Brendon

  The Austin Arrows Series

  The Season: RUSH

  The Season: KAUFMAN

  The Bad Boys of Sports Series

  Bad Reputation (October 2017)

  Bad Business (2018)

  The Caine Cousins Series

  Hard to Hold

  Hard to Handle (July 2017)

  The Club Destiny Series

  Conviction

  Temptation

  Addicted

  Seduction

  Infatuation

  Captivated

  Devotion

  Perception

  Entrusted

  Adored

  Distraction

  The Coyote Ridge Series

  Curtis

  Jared (Crossover Novel)

  The Dead Heat Ranch Series

  Boots Optional

  Betting on Grace

  Overnight Love

  Jared (Crossover Novel)

  The Devil’s Bend Series

  Chasing Dreams

  Vanishing Dreams

  The Devil’s Playground Series

  Without Regret

  Without Restraint

  The Pier 70 Series

  Reckless

  Fearless

  Speechless

  Harmless

  The Sniper 1 Security Series

  Wait for Morning

  Never Say Never

  The Southern Boy Mafia Series

  Beautifully Brutal

  Beautifully Loyal

  Standalone Novels

  A Million Tiny Pieces

  Inked on Paper

  Writing as Timberlyn Scott

  Unhinged

  Unraveling

  Chaos

  Naughty Holiday Books

  2015

  2016

  HARD TO HOLD

  A Caine Cousins Novel

  NICOLE EDWARDS

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

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  24

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  Nicole Edwards Limited

  PO Box 806

  Hutto, Texas 78634

  www.NicoleEdwardsLimited.com

  www.slipublishing.com

  Copyright © Nicole Edwards, 2017

  All rights reserved.

  This is a self-published title.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Hard to Hold – A Caine Cousins Novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Image: © Wander Aguiar | wanderbookclub.com

  Models: Zack Salaun, Genevieve Consoli, Jacob Cooley

  Ebook Image: © Ying Feng Johansson (14217504 – 123rf.com)

  Cover Design: © Nicole Edwards Limited

  Editing: Blue Otter Editing | BlueOtterEditing.com

  ISBN (ebook): 978-1-939786-80-7

  ISBN (print): 978-1-939786-79-1

  Ménage Romance

  M/M/F and M/M interactions

  Mature Audience

  Dear Reader,

  This story contains elements of domestic abuse. If you or someone you love is in an abusive relationship, please seek help.

  National Domestic Violence Hotline

  1-800-799-SAFE (7233) | 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)

  1

  __________

  What was the saying? Hell in a hand basket?

  Yep. That was exactly where this night was going.

  And fast.

  Wolfe Caine had felt the prickling at the back of his neck as soon as he stepped into his favorite watering hole half an hour ago. That itchy feeling got worse when his cousin joined him a few minutes after.

  Never failed that when the pair of them got together, the shit tended to hit the fan. What it was about them that made stupid cowboys want to throw down, Wolfe didn’t know, but it seemed he couldn’t spend a Friday night out without getting his knuckles scraped a little.

  But he wasn’t bitching about it. Sometimes, after busting his ass all damn week, a little scuffle was just what his inner redneck needed.

  “Y’all wanna do this?” Lynx growled, his intimidating glare causing the two smartasses to puff out their chests.

  Yep. And that was Lynx for you. The man had never met a ranch hand he didn’t want to punch.

  “Son of a bitch,” one of the old men sitting near the back grumbled. “Why the hell do you dumb fuckers wanna start shit all the goddamn time? You ain’t learned your lesson yet?”

  That was the question of the hour.

  He knew the old man wasn’t talking to him and his cousin. Shit. Just a few minutes ago, Wolfe had been shooting the shit with him. Minding his own damn business, at that.

  “Hear that, fuckers?” Lynx growled.

  “You talk a lotta shit, you know that?” Dumb Ass Number One goaded, his words aimed at Lynx.

  With a resigned sigh, Wolfe set his beer down on the scarred table and moved to stand beside his cousin.

  A couple of the patrons opted to move to the far side of the room.

  Wolfe could admit they were an intimidating pair. Always had been. At six foot three, the two of them tended to draw attention whenever they walked in a room. Add to that the tattoos Lynx had decorating a large portion of his body and they could usually part a crowd right down the middle. Didn’t help that they took the bait every damn time.

  “I’m gettin’ too damn old for this shit,” Wolfe muttered under his breath.

  With the big three-oh looming in the very near future, Wolfe was starting to wonder if it was getting close to time to retire his weekly bar brawl action. And Lynx was no spring chicken at twenty-eight.

  “You wanna do this? Let’s take this shit outside,” Lynx suggested. “I’ll lead the way.”

  Of course he would.

  “Anyone feel like they’re in a zoo?” Dumb Ass Number One questioned.

  Funny guy.

  The dumb ass even chuckled at his own failed attempt at a joke. No one else did.

  Wolfe had heard plenty of that shit growing up. Their fathers—brothers with less than two years between them—thought that it would be amusing to make a bet that each of them could not convince their wives to name their firstborn son after some sort of wildlife. Their sister Iris had insisted they were out of their minds, but, of course, being as competitive as they were, it was on at that point. Thanks to that drunken wager, Wolfe and Lynx had gotten used to the teasing during their childhood. Granted, as they grew up, that hadn’t happened as much. However, there was still
one dumb ass in every bunch.

  “No new material?” Wolfe asked.

  “Takes brains to come up with somethin’ new,” Lynx noted. “I think it’s safe to say they’re fresh outta smart.”

  “You’re just as fucked up as your old man,” Dumb Ass Number Two grumbled, his bushy eyebrows darting down.

  Wolfe grinned, chuckling. “Who you talkin’ to?”

  Wolfe assumed the smart-mouthed cowboy was probably talking to both of them. The Caines had laid down roots in Embers Ridge nearly a hundred years ago and they’d been starting shit for just as many. And their fathers—Cooter and Calvin—were some of the wildest in Caine history.

  “Pick one.” Dumb Ass Number One cackled like a fucking girl, peering over at his buddy. “They’re all fucking crazy.”

  Lynx glanced over at him. Wolfe was tempted to roll his eyes. These boys weren’t in any hurry, obviously. And their stand-up comedy routine was seriously lacking.

  “Since my old man ain’t here to defend himself, why don’t you take this up with me?” Lynx taunted. “I’ll rip your ass a new one just as fast as he would, you dumb fuck.”

  Everyone in town knew that ol’ Cooter Caine was as crazy as they came. After all, he had barricaded himself up in his compound on the outskirts of town and hadn’t left the place in ten years. Not once since Lynx’s mother had died in a car wreck on her way home from work. Sure, Cooter was a little out of touch with reality; however, ask anyone and they’d tell you that Lynx’s old man wouldn’t hurt a damn soul. As for Lynx, that was a different story altogether.

  As for Wolfe’s old man … Calvin Caine was probably the sanest in the long line of Caines before him, although that was debatable at times. The man lived in a small apartment above their furniture store just a few blocks south of downtown Embers Ridge. After Wolfe’s mother passed away two years ago from pneumonia, Calvin had taken to spending all his time in the store. While Wolfe and Lynx were responsible for making the furniture, Calvin had taken it upon himself to sell it. Of course, he and Lynx were often pulling double duty to help out with the heavy lifting.

  “Both of ’em are nuts,” Dumb Ass Number Two said.

  Yep, this was going nowhere fast.

  “Come on,” Lynx growled. “You wanna knuckle up, let’s take this shit outside.”

  Lynx took one step toward the door, but the two dumb asses didn’t move.

  “We can do this right here,” Dumb Ass Number One noted, obviously opposed to a little fresh air, maybe a broken nose.

  “The hell we can,” Wolfe grumbled. “You see that girl behind the bar? She’s got a shotgun back there. You throw down in here, that first bullet’ll have your name on it.”

  Granted, Wolfe knew that Reagan had yet to fire that bad boy up in here. She was a little on the defensive side, but so far, she hadn’t proven to be crazy. However, that could change at any time.

  Lynx chuckled, but there was no real humor in it. “I don’t know ’bout you boys, but I’d like to live my life without any bullet holes.”

  Wolfe leaned toward Lynx. “You’ve already had one.”

  Lynx glared back at him, then rolled his eyes. “Without any more bullet holes,” he amended. He lowered his voice. “And that didn’t count. It was squirrel shot.”

  “Still hurt, didn’t it?” Wolfe mumbled back.

  Lynx’s answer was in the form of a one-shoulder shrug.

  Regardless, the statement got the two dumb asses glancing behind the bar. Wolfe didn’t need to turn around to know that Reagan Trevino—the sweet girl who owned this beer bar—was standing there, one hand on her hip, the other twitching at her side. There was a shotgun behind that bar and the woman wasn’t scared to use it.

  “Reagan,” Lynx called out as he started toward the door. “Corral these fools outside, would ya, doll?”

  The sound of a shotgun being cocked echoed in the otherwise silent space.

  Wolfe nodded toward the door. “Let’s go, boys. My beer’s gettin’ warm.”

  It was a gamble turning your back on a couple of drunk good ol’ boys, but what the fuck. Wolfe didn’t have nothing else to do tonight. Nothing more than relax with a beer and chill with his cousin, anyway.

  But this would work, too.

  Once they were outside, the balmy July breeze slapped him right in the face.

  “This is bullshit,” Lynx groused. “I just wanna drink my beer, chill for a bit. Maybe play some pool.” He shook out his hands. “Shit. My hands still hurt from the last damn fight.”

  Seconds later, the two cowboys came barreling out of the bar. Likely having dealt with Reagan calling them a couple of pussies. She’d been known to taunt the fools who wanted to act like idiots.

  “Come on, boys,” Lynx goaded. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

  “Crazy, I tell you,” Dumb Ass Number Two mumbled, stumbling down the steps to the gravel lot. “Why can’t you Caine boys just—”

  Obviously tired of chatting, Lynx launched himself at the dumb ass, landing a solid right hook to the fucker’s jaw. Another swing came, then the two were tangled together, their boots scrambling for purchase on the gravel. When it looked as though the other dumb ass was going to come to his friend’s rescue, Wolfe shot a look heavenward. There was no getting out of this one.

  Wolfe figured the fastest way to get back inside to his beer was to offer his assistance.

  So he did.

  Amy Manning—known to everyone in this town as Amy Smith—stood stone still when the two cowboys headed toward the door, following the Caine cousins. When they stepped outside, she glanced over at Reagan, watching as the woman wielded that shotgun like she was on a first-name basis with the thing.

  Shit.

  This place got stranger and stranger the longer Amy stayed.

  Not so surprisingly, everyone piled out of the bar and into the parking lot. Seemed Friday night’s entertainment was being held out there. Again.

  When there were no more patrons to wait on, Amy went to the bar and peered over at her boss. “What do we do now? Wait?” That was what they’d done the last couple of times this had happened.

  Reagan smiled and the move made the woman even prettier than she already was. She was short, like Amy, with dark brown eyes, also like Amy. Their similarities pretty much ran out at that point. Reagan had a cute little nose, perfect breasts, and her hair was long and looked like dark chocolate silk—similar to Amy’s before circumstance had made her become a bottle blonde. Amy missed her dark hair, wishing she’d never been dumb enough to hit up the drugstore during one of her panic attacks. However, she had to admit, it did help to alter her appearance. Some.

  “Yep. They’ll be back. Won’t take long.”

  Having been in this tiny town of Embers Ridge for all of three months and working in this small bar for only a third of that time, Amy clearly didn’t understand the dynamics. Seemed there were a few consistencies though.

  One, Wolfe and Lynx Caine did show up every Friday night without fail. Usually Saturday nights, also. Two, someone—typically a drunk cowboy—provoked one or both cousins and ended up out front.

  Three, someone was usually bleeding by the time they all came stumbling back inside. And four, at some point tonight, the sheriff was going to make an appearance.

  Seeing the sheriff wasn’t high on Amy’s priority list, even if he was nice to look at. Rhys Trevino’s piercing blue eyes saw too damn much as far as she was concerned, which was the very reason Amy was keeping her distance.

  The door opened. The sound of the fight and some rowdy onlookers floated into the empty room, then was quickly cut off when the door closed again.

  Nope, they weren’t done yet.

  Amy leaned against the bar and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only nine thirty. She had two and half hours to go, and that seemed like an interminably long time. Especially if she had to spend half an hour waiting for everyone to make their way back inside.

  What she really wanted to do was go ho
me, take a long, hot shower, and then fall asleep while reading. She’d recently discovered some rather intriguing books—a popular genre known as erotic romance—that had taught her a few things that she … uh … hadn’t known. In fact, they’d taught her a lot of things she hadn’t known. Needless to say, she looked forward to reading. It was what she’d been doing for the past year. Ever since … the hospital. Thanks to an extremely kind nurse who had clearly taken pity on Amy, she’d immersed herself in fiction as a way of escape.

  Admittedly, she was getting comfortable in her new life.

  The door opened and Amy’s gaze instantly swung over to see who it was.

  Okay, so maybe she wasn’t exactly comfortable. She was still rather twitchy, but there was good reason for that. When one was running for their life, hiding out in a small town, and watching over their shoulder every second of every day, one tended to be jumpy.

  “That Lynx Caine’s somethin’ else,” the newcomer drawled as he headed toward an empty table on the far side of the room.

  Amy preferred Wolfe to Lynx, but she had no idea why that was. Perhaps she’d had more interaction with him. And even that was extremely limited. There was just something about his deep voice, his black hair and green eyes, the scruffy jaw, and the…

  Yeah. Okay. So she’d been thinking far too much about Wolfe Caine.

  Not knowing what to say to the old man, Amy opted to pretend not to have heard, instead choosing to offer him a beer.

  “Yeah, thanks, darlin’. Coors Light if you don’t mind.”

  Amy turned back to the bar to find Reagan grinning as she pulled out a longneck and twisted the top off, passing it over to Amy.

  It didn’t take a lot of effort to keep the clientele in this place happy. Since there weren’t many options for recreational activities in Embers Ridge, someone could stop into Reagan’s for a beer or head over to Marla’s Bar for something a little stronger, or even a hamburger and fries. Of course, they could stop in at the diner if they wanted down-home comfort food. Anything more than that would require they head out of town a good twenty miles to the nearest chain restaurant.

  That was one of the many reasons Amy liked Embers Ridge. It was small, the pace was relatively slow, and the people were nice, if not a little nosey. The curiosity was the hardest part to deal with, but so far Amy had managed to evade most of the questions by pretending to be shy.