Beck’s fingers flexed, brows tugging together. “You mean his truck?”
I crossed my arms, leaning back in the chair. “Nope. Him.”
His gaze turned lethal as he rolled his jaw, aiming his attention back on Dick. “That true?”
The way Beckham took a step toward him had me shoving out of my chair. Maybe I should’ve sugarcoated Dick’s behavior, but what was that protecting? Because it sure as hell wasn’t my feelings, and I had no obligation to save this stranger.
But I did have a heart for Beckham, and that included saving him from fighting some worthless flirt.
Dick’s eyes widened as they landed on my stomach, which was now in full view. “Jesus, Beckham. You left rodeo because you knocked up some chick?” He gestured to my belly before regarding Beckham again. “I don’t getwhy you would’ve hid that. I mean, look at the girl. She’shot.”
Clearly Dick didn’t have a speck of common sense, because Beckham was fuming now. Smoke practically billowed from his ears as he clenched his fists and stepped toward the man.
Dick took a step back, finally seeing how his words were pushing Beckham to his limit. I wasn’t about to wait around and hear whatever other dumb shit the man had to say, especially because it seemed like everything that passed his lips only resulted in pushing Beckham’s buttons. I quickly stepped between the two of them, inching my chin up to look directly at Beckham. But his eyes never wavered on the kill.
“Dick, why don’t you go give your keys to the man in the garage and hitch a ride in the tow truck.” There was no debate in my tone.
Dick must’ve noticed it, because he didn’t say a word as he slipped out from behind me and disappeared through the door Beckham came in through.
Finally alone, Beckham’s eyes slowly lowered to meet mine.
When his jaw ceased to relax and his hands remained fisted, I stepped away and leaned a hip against the desk, crossing my arms.
“Still protective as ever, I see,” I teased, though the playful lilt fell a little flat and instead sounded a bit too sassy.
He turned his glare on the door to the shop, listeningto the mumbled conversation on the other side. “For you, always.”
“What, because I’m Parker Summerhill, and you’ll always step in and save me?”
That tore his attention from the garage. He moved to me, invading my space. His fists finally released, palms flattening on the desk on either side of me. “No.”
“No? Then why?”
His thumbs brushed my ass before he slid his hands off the desk and grasped my hips. “Because you’remyParker Summerhill, and I’ll never let anything happen to you.”
I cocked my head to the side. “I broke my arm four years ago.”
His body turned to stone, fingers digging into me and tugging me closer, like he hated the idea of anything happening to me when he wasn’t around. “How?”
“Fell off a horse.”
Beckham snorted, soft and heavy. He wasn’t amused. No, I think this whole jealousy bit made him…horny. But I was trying to distract him. We were in public, and we had rules about that.
“I fall off horses all the time.”
I tipped my chin up, trying not to stare at his mouth or the way his chain was peeking out from beneath his shirt. “How many bones have you broken since I left?”
“Want me to show you them all? I’d have to take my clothes off.”
The idea had my cheeks warming. “No stripping necessary.” I held up a hand. “Show me.”
He wrapped burning fingers around my wrist, our skin scalding with how hot we both were, and lowered it to the waistband of his jeans. I sucked in a breath when he slipped my fingers beneath the hem of his shirt and slid my palm up his stomach, not stopping until I reached his ribs.
“Six ribs.”
“At the same time?” I asked.
“Three different occasions,” he clarified, then slid my palm around his side, to his lower back. “Broke my tailbone once.”
