Bonded (The Cavanaugh Brothers, Band 4) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Laura Wright is the New York Times bestselling author of the Cavanaugh Brothers novels, including Brash and Broken, and the Mark of the Vampire Novels, including Eternal Sin and Eternal Demon.  Though she has spent most of her life immersed in acting, singing, and competitive ballroom dancing, when she found the world of writing and books and endless cups of coffee, she knew she was home. She is passionate about romantic fiction. Laura lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young children, and three lovable dogs. 

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One

Some people might call it the hots, but if you asked Emily Shiver directly what her feelings regarding Blue Perez were, she’d probably say it was more like an . . . appreciation.

Especially seated on that barstool like he was.

She righted the flower tucked behind her ear and headed back into the Bull’s Eye kitchen. She didn’t do “hots.” It sounded so junior high school—which was when she’d seen Blue for the first time. Of course, back then he hadn’t been all that much to look at. Tall; super skinny; shy; huge, nervous blue eyes. Not that she could blame him on the nervous thing. He’d just come to town with his mother, hadn’t known anyone—moved into the Triple C to take care of the house and Everett Cavanaugh. The older man was alone. Wife had passed on, all three of his boys gone. For Blue, it couldn’t have been a happy place to come to. From the outside looking in, doom and gloom coated that ranch like thick, hungry fog.

But truly, what did anyone expect? From Everett or from those boys? Well . . . especially the boys. They’d lost their girl. Cass. In the most painful way imaginable. Taken from the movie theater bathroom when they were only a few feet away. Those poor kids. They’d just wanted to do what every brother would’ve wanted to do: watch the darn movie. Not take their annoying kid sis to the bathroom. To them, she was old enough to do that on her own—and grab some Skittles and popcorn on the return trip. But there’d been no return. She’d gone missing.

Christ, the terror that family must have felt. And the horror that followed when her body had turned up in the meadow out past Lake Tonka. The world as they’d all known it, over.

Emily remembered those days well. Seemed like the whole town of River Black was just watching and praying and hoping. Their breaths held. But it was no use. No coming back from pain that all consuming. The Cavanaughs had been irrevocably destroyed. Their mama gone mad. Seemed like no light would ever find its way to them. Then in came Elena Perez and her son, Blue. Moved in, cleaned up and out. A hope for comfort and peace, and maybe things returning to some new sense of normal. Which they had. For a while. Until Everett passed . . . and the truth of his affair with Elena, long before she’d moved into the Triple C, and the child they’d created came to light.

“Emily, hon,” came a voice near her right shoulder. “That’s my Coke you’re manhandling there.”

The kitchen of the Bull’s Eye came into focus like someone was fiddling with the lens of a microscope. Emily looked up into the gentle dark eyes of Rae, the Eye’s longest-serving employee, then back down to her hands wrapped around a large red tumbler filled to the brim with black liquid. She instantly released the glass and stepped back from the soda machine.

“Sorry, Rae,” she stumbled. “My brain isn’t working well tonight.”

“Least it’s just the one night. Mine hasn’t been firing on all cylinders for a while now.” With a soft laugh, the older woman placed the bubbling Coke on her tray. “You only have ’bout fifteen minutes left, ain’t that right?”

Emily glanced up at the clock on the wall. Quarter of nine. “Can’t come soon enough. Along with my addled brain, my feet are pretty much done in.”

“Give it a few years and a layer of calluses, honey,” Rae said before pulling out and heading back into the dining room.

A few years, Emily thought. She was hoping for one at the most. Just enough time to save up for the down payment on that abandoned storefront on Main and Kettler. Granted, there was nothing wrong with serving up drinks and good food, if that was your choice, but she had a dream of opening her own flower shop she was looking to fulfill.

After filling up another glass with Coke and placing it on her tray alongside the two whiskeys, she too headed for the dining room. It was a slow night, and she had only one table still occupied. A couple of guys she guessed were traveling through, because she’d never seen them around River Black before, and one tended to see the same people over and over. They’d ordered food and several rounds of drinks. Pretty standard. Easy-peasy. She’d serve them up and get herself out, home, and to bed.

And would not—repeat, would not—stare in the direction of the bar while she did it.

As if the silent promise were really an enticement to do just that, Emily’s brown eyes—which her father called doe eyes, or can’t-say-no-to-my-baby-girl eyes—tracked left. Seated at the bar, his back to her, Stetson riding low, was the very object of her . . . what word had she resorted to again? Hots? No. Not hots. Oh yeah, appreciation. And boy oh boy, could she appreciate him tonight. His long, lean, hard body was showcased in nothing special: standard cowboy gear, jeans and a black T-shirt. But her eyes moved covetously over him anyway, from tanned neck to broad shoulders, trim waist, and . . . a denim-clad butt that made her heart kick up and certain unmentionable lady parts quiver.

Sigh. She’d worked at the Bull’s Eye for a year and a half now, and the man had an irritating and—she was pretty sure—random habit of coming in when she was on duty. Not that he was much of a drinker or a socializer. He never sat at the bar, like he was now. Usually at a table eating lunch or dinner with Mackenzie Byrd. The pair worked at the Triple C together and seemed like pretty close friends. Or they had been. Emily hadn’t seen them in the Eye together all that often lately. Since Mac had gone and married the eldest Cavanaugh, in fact.

Emily continued to stare at what God and his parents had granted him. What the heck had brought him in here tonight? So late? And straight to the bar? He’d been tossing back one—

“Goddammit, girl!”

Emily whipped around just as one of her customers shot to his feet, hands going instantly to his crotch. Crap. Emily glanced first at her tray and the now-empty glass on its side, then back at the man—and the denim that was sporting a spattering or two of whiskey. That’s what appreciating does, flower girl—makes for some pretty wet and pissed-off customers. Not to mention the no-tip factor.

As quick as she could, she set the tray down on the empty tabletop behind her and grabbed some napkins. “I am so sorry,” she began, holding out the napkins for him. No way was she offering to clean up his crotch. “Here. Please take these.”

The man’s head jerked up, and venom fairly bled from those two pale brown eyes. “What the fuck are you?” he ground out. “Blind? Or just clumsy?”

Perfect. No forgiveness here. She ignored the grunt of humor from the man’s heavily bearded friend, who was leaning back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. “I really am sorry. Let me get you another, on the house. And some club soda.”

For anyone in River Black, this would’ve been enough. Hell, a free drink would’ve probably garnered a begrudging smile from one of the locals. But for this out-of-towner, blood and humiliation were all he was after now.

“So you can spill that on me too?” he snarled at her, swiping at his crotch with the cloth napkin near his plate of nachos. “Pass.” He turned to his friend. “Should’ve known. Stopping in these tiny towns, all you...