Page 27 of Between a Rock and a Hard Cowboy

She couldn’t even imagine the emotional toll those visits had taken on Linc.

He drew in a breath and looked back at the fire. “Then I came home and moved in here. I needed space. To be alone.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed.

He let out a short bitter laugh. “Please don’t thank me for my service next.”

“I won’t. But I wasn’t saying sorry over the loss of your men, although I am sorry for that. I’m apologizing that I’ve invaded your space. I truly am. I know what it’s like when you need to be by yourself and people won’t leave you alone.”

He angled his head to look at her. His expression changed, as if he was seeing her for the first time. “It’s okay. It’s been over a year. I’m not quite the hermit I was when I first got home. And you’re not nearly as annoying as Ethan.”

She smiled. “It’s not hard to be less annoying than Ethan, but I’ll accept the compliment.”

His lips bowed in a smile, before he shoved the chair back another notch, putting him almost completely horizontal as he said, “Good night, Eva.”

“Son of a bitch,” she mumbled in amazement as she pushed her chair farther back like he had until she lay almost flat.

This was one amazing chair. Almost as amazing as her having an honest and meaningful conversation with a Wilder male. It had been an eye-opening night…and it wasn’t over yet.

Linc was snoring in moments.

Leave it to a man to go from night terrors, to pouring out his guts, to being sound asleep once again, all within half an hour.

Unfortunately, she was not so blessed in the sleep department. She was wide awake, with nothing to do. That was the part that sucked the most. If she could manage a connection, even a weak one, she’d at least be able to get something done online.

Maybe…it was worth a try.

She eased her chair down, slowly, as silently as she could so she wouldn’t wake him.

Creeping across the floor, she lifted the lid of her laptop and looked hopefully at the upper right-hand corner of the screen. No signal. What else she found was no better. Her battery was about to die. Slamming the lid closed she sighed. There was no power to charge it but with no internet, there was no need.

She glanced at Linc. Still asleep.

Now what? Was she going to have to resort to doing one of his damn puzzles?

Looking at the staircase, she admired their work from that night. It was perfect. Well, almost. There was one cluster of balls that was just a little too close to another.

Freeing the thin metal hook from the greenery, she was about to move the ornaments when one fell. It bounced on the floor with a racket that sounded loud enough in the otherwise near silent house to wake the dead. She froze, her gaze shooting to Linc.

His slow, steady deep breaths proved the man could sleep through anything—except his nightmares apparently.

Happy she hadn’t disturbed him, she crept across the floor to retrieve the rogue ball. She’d have to secure it better to its two companions before putting it back on the staircase. But when she bent to pick it up, she found the hook was stuck between two floorboards. Like really stuck.

With a huff, she gave up trying to get it loose while standing and just sat on the cold wood floor. Luckily, Linc’s sweats were thick enough she didn’t get frozen ass cheeks.

Squinting in the shadow of the sofa, which blocked most of the light from the fire, she entered into a tug of war. Woman against wood. A test of the trapped metal of the hook against her own mettle in a battle of wills…and she’d be damned if she lost against a little tiny ornament hook.

With one final tug, the hook came free… and the floorboard momentarily lifted before slipping back into its proper place along the neighboring boards.

Shit. Had she broken the floor in Linc’s historic ancestral lodge?

And why wasn’t the board nailed down anyway? She looked around where she sat. Everywhere else, square nail heads—the old kind you only saw used in antiques and old homes—marked the wood floor every six inches or so. Except for the one-foot area around where the board had moved.

There was something hidden under those floorboards. She’d bet money on it.

Heart pounding she used what little fingernails she had, hooking them in the crack between the boards to no avail.

A tool. She needed a tool.

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