Page 29 of Between a Rock and a Hard Cowboy

Creeping as silently as he could, he tiptoed past her chair, keeping his eye on her as he went. She was pretty…when she wasn’t being argumentative.

That thought had his lips twitching with a smile as he made his way to the kitchen.

He filled the old percolator he’d found in a cabinet when he’d moved in with coffee grounds and water and set it on the burner of the stove.

It had to date back to his grandfather’s time and definitely looked its age, but it made the best coffee he’d ever tasted. Why people ever stopped using percolators to brew coffee was beyond him. Sometimes the good old fashioned tried and true methods were the best.

He grabbed the whole milk from the fridge and the sugar from the cabinet and set them out on the counter next to two mugs. It was all he had to offer, but he’d eaten enough meals with Eva, both at the house with Olivia and at Rosie’s during family dinners, he knew she wasn’t the artificial sweetener or skim milk type.

As for breakfast, bacon and eggs would have to do. He always had plenty of both. But again, as annoying as the woman sleeping in his great room could be, she was not a picky eater. Or a picky drinker. He remembered she was up for a glass of anything that Wyatt happened to be pouring from his whisky collection.

Really, being around Eva was a lot like hanging out with his brothers. Like them, she could be easy going while at the same time being a pain in the ass. But unlike his brothers, Eva had breasts. And round hips that swayed when she stomped away mad. And legs so long they went on for days.

Not to mention fiery red hair and moss green eyes, which both set off her porcelain complexion.

“Oh my God! You’re up?” She skidded into the kitchen in stocking feet, a wild expression in her eyes. Her gaze found him standing by the stove. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You were sleeping. Why? What’s wrong?” Concerned, he and his uncaffeinated brain tried to reason what could have happened.

“Come here. Now.” She reached for his arm and pulled him away from the stove where the percolator was just starting to perk.

“Shit.” He pulled away, flipped the burner off, then followed her into the great room.

“I found it,” she said, breathless as she stood next to the long wooden table where he sometimes ate.

“You found what?” He frowned until his gaze hit upon a wooden box he’d never seen before. “What’s that?”

“It’s what the key goes to. I found it last night. It was hidden under the floorboards. The key fit. It opens. Linc, it’s full of old stuff.”

His eyes widened. He took a step closer. “What old stuff?”

“I didn’t go through it. I was afraid. The paper looks like really old. Like 1800s old. Linc, what if it belonged to your great-grandfather?”

If it was that old it was more likely from his great-great-grandfather’s day. John T. Wilder.

“That’s why I didn’t go through the papers. Besides the fact I was afraid they’d disintegrate or something. It’s your family legacy. Your father and you and your brothers should be the first to see whatever’s inside,” she continued.

Reaching for the box, he used both hands to flip open the lid. It was exactly as she’d said. Filled to the top with old papers. “Wow,” he breathed.

“The curiosity almost killed me last night. I finally fell asleep waiting for you to wake up.”

He shook his head and let out a laugh. “It was here. Like you said. Where?” he asked.

She pointed to the floor behind the sofa. “There.”

He turned and saw she’d dismantled a portion of the floor, completely taking out enough boards to make a foot wide opening. “What did you do? Start pulling up floorboards until you found something?”

“No. I wouldn’t do that to your house. One of the ornaments fell and the hanger got stuck between the boards. When I yanked it out, the board moved. That’s when I realized that all the rest of the floor is put down with nails, except for those four boards. No nails. They came right up.

“Holy shit.”

“Right?!” she agreed. “We could have searched your family’s old furniture for years and never found what that key went to. It was under your feet the whole time.”

It did make sense. The men of the family had considered this their domain. Their private getaway. The perfect place to hide something. Which begged the question, what were his ancestors hiding?

He gazed down at the stacks of papers, some folded and tied with a ribbon. “We need to go through this.”

“I know,” she said, her voice a good octave higher than usual with excitement.

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