Hard to Handle (Caine Cousins #2)(24)

“They’re beautiful. I can’t believe…”

When she sat down, her grin widened. He watched as she pushed back with her booted foot, putting the chair in motion, slowly rocking backward, then forward.

“Thought maybe I could take them out to Amy’s,” he suggested. “That way you’d have them on the front porch when you wanna sit outside.”

Her eyes met his. “You really made these for me?”

He nodded, hating that he suddenly felt shy around her. That was something he never felt. He ruled the roost, prided himself on it. Yet when he was around Reagan, he felt vulnerable in a way he’d never felt before.

“When?” Her gaze narrowed. “When did you really make these, Lynx?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Hell, I don’t remember.”

That was a lie. Lynx remembered it like it was yesterday because he’d made the first one right after she’d broken up with that asshole Billy Watson the very first time. She’d been barely eighteen years old, just graduated from high school, and Lynx had been over the fucking moon. Because of her age, he’d been forced to take a step back from her when he’d first kissed her, and the next thing he knew, Reagan had started dating Billy not long before she graduated. The second he’d found out, Lynx had been pissed, confused. He remembered praying, something he hadn’t done in a long damn time. Praying that God would strike Billy Watson down where he stood. No one had ever accused Lynx of being reasonable.

So, that first time they broke up, he’d automatically assumed it was over. Never in his life would he have imagined that relationship would’ve dragged out for so damn long. Eight fucking years he’d waited for this moment.

“You don’t remember?” She clearly didn’t believe him.

“Nope. Sorry.”

Lynx damn near backed up, but somehow, he managed to hold his ground when Reagan got up from the chair. Hell, his feet were yelling for him to run, but he stood there, watching her, bracing himself.

“Do you remember that night?” she asked.

“What night?” Oh, he knew, all right. But he figured it was far safer to play dumb right now.

“The night I sat on your dad’s front porch with you. In those rockin’ chairs.”

He didn’t respond.

“I’m pretty sure I went a little overboard talkin’ about ’em.” She glanced over her shoulder at the two rocking chairs behind her before turning back to him. Her smile was wistful, as though she was remembering that night. “And you just happened to make these? For me?”

“Yep.”

“But you never gave ’em to me.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged again.

She took another step closer and Lynx found himself staring down at her.

“Tell me when you made them,” she urged, her voice softer, far too seductive for his fragile grasp on his self-control.

“A while back,” he offered.

“How long’s a while?”

He shrugged.

She stepped closer.

This time he did take a step back.

She took another step closer.

“Reagan…”

“Tell me, Lynx.”

“Eight years,” he admitted, his voice rough.

Something softened in her eyes and he knew without a doubt, for the first time in his life, Lynx was about to go back on a promise.



Eight years.

Reagan couldn’t believe her ears.

Lynx had made these rocking chairs eight years ago.

Back around the time when she was eighteen years old. Old enough for…

“Why?” she asked.

Another shrug.

“Why’d you stay away?” That was a question she’d wanted him to answer for so long.

“You were too young,” he grumbled.

She knew that. She had been young. Not that she’d liked that conclusion when she’d come to it all those years ago. In fact, Reagan had convinced herself that Lynx hadn’t really wanted her in the first place. Her irrational brain wouldn’t allow her to believe he’d kept his distance because she was underage.

Unable to help herself, Reagan reached out and touched him. She gently caressed the side of his face, the rough rasp of his stubble abrading her palm and sending a shiver down her spine. She had wanted to do this for so long, the memory of that long-ago night slamming into her. The same emotion, the same urgent need fizzed under her skin, thrumming in her blood.

Something about Lynx made her body heat, every cell hypersensitive, eager for him to touch her again. It’d always been like that. But he had rejected her so easily, made her feel as though she wasn’t worth his time. Then again, Lynx hadn’t actually done anything to make her feel that way, aside from keeping his distance, but she had allowed the irrational thoughts to grow roots, to become the truth. Hence the reason she’d put that much needed space between them, refusing to think on it too much.

“Why didn’t you give them to me?” she probed. “And don’t tell me you don’t know.” Reagan narrowed her eyes. “I know you, Lynx Caine. You don’t forget anything.”

“Because you were with Billy.”

The way he said it, the gravelly rasp of his voice had her belly fluttering. Although she’d insisted that he give her space until his divorce was final, Reagan couldn’t seem to fight the overwhelming urge to close the distance between them. And what was another day, anyway? She had waited ten freaking years for this.