Chapter 23 Parker
PARKER
Ihissed in a breath as the cardboard sliced through the side of my finger. I hated paper cuts. The pesky wounds were small, but they hurt like no other.
I twisted my finger side to side, inspecting the stinging skin.
After seeing no more than a thin line of blood, I dabbed a clean tissue on the wound before tossing it in the bin and going back to breaking down the three boxes that had been delivered today.
Beckham had taken the parts into the garage a little over an hour ago, and I’d had to practically beg him to leave the cardboard here for me to deal with.
Being an office assistant was pretty straightforward, but that was the problem I was currently facing. I needed something out of my daily routine to break up the spiraling thoughts. Every day, we came closer and closer to my due date, and I didn’t even have a nursery set up.
Day by day, I forced positive affirmations into my mind like the class I’d taken had told me to.
Two days after my illness on Thanksgiving, I’d gone to get checked out to be sure everything was okay.
When my doctor had suggested I also take a birthing class, I’d jumped at the offer.
Beckham had come, of course. He’d gone to all my appointments ever since our conversation—though thankfully there weren’t many, as my pregnancy was going as smoothly as it could.
Now, two weeks later, I was finally starting to actually listen to some of the affirmations. Sometimes, even the prospect of Beckham helping when the baby came slipped into my mental list, and it took a load off my shoulders every time.
The blade sliced through the last portion of tape, and I folded the box in on itself until it was small enough to fit in the bin by my desk.
Beckham had already told me I wouldn’t be walking across the icy back parking lot to get to the dumpster.
Instead, he promised to do it himself after our shift, and instructed me to set them in the plastic tub in the meantime.
The tiny bell above the door to the lobby dinged as I folded the pocket knife and set it beside my keyboard to greet whoever was walking in.
As soon as my eyes met the man wearing a deep maroon felt cowboy hat and a growing grin on his face, I knew I was in for it.
I offered a friendly smile. “How can I help you?”
The man sauntered up to the desk, sliding the snow-flecked hat off his head and revealing curly brown hair. “Know of a cute little lady with the prettiest eyes in the west who can call me a tow truck?” He shot me a cheesy wink.
I tried not to roll my eyes, feigning the act like I was looking for a paper in front of me. “We actually have a tow truck here. Did you break down nearby?” A glance at his pants showed stains of water where snow had likely melted on his walk to the shop.
My observation had his mind in the gutter as his grin only widened. “Sure did, ma’am. Bet the cab’s still warm, though, if you wanna come take a better look.” He hiked his thumb over his shoulder.
My teeth ground together as I moved my focus to the computer screen, hand squeezing the mouse so hard I thought it might burst to pieces.
As if he could sense my discomfort through the wall, the door that connected the shop to the office swung open, and Beckham appeared. His body stiffened as his eyes darted between me and the man.
“Dick,” Beckham said stiffly.
My mouth popped open at the sheer audacity for him to act that way, but then the man placed his hat back on his head and approached Beckham with an even bigger smile this time.
“Beckham, my man. I wondered if I was near Bell Buckle.” The man—Dick, by the sound of it—held a hand out to Beck, who robotically lifted his own for a shake. “My truck ain’t got GPS, and my phone’s dead. Hell, I’ve been using road signs for about fifty miles.”
Dick’s slap on his back was much firmer than Beckham’s awkward pat.
“Yep. You’re near it.” Beck’s voice was so…odd. Like he hated the man but also shared a past with him that warranted niceties.
“My ol’ Chevy broke down probably three or so miles away. Think you can tow it?” Dick looked at me, a devious sparkle in his gaze. “Little lady here didn’t seem to want to take me up on my offer.”
Beck’s eyes narrowed on me. “What offer?”
Maybe it was the desire to get Dick out of this office as fast as possible, or the way Beckham seemed to be just as protective of me as he used to be, but I chose blunt honesty. “Dick here offered to let me take a look at him, so long as his cab was still warm.”
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 get why you would’ve hid that. I mean, look at the girl. She’s hot.”
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, listening to 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’re my Parker 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.”
If it weren’t for the way this felt way more sexual than it should, I might’ve been surprised, but bronc riding was a dangerous sport. Broken bones and brutal injuries came with the territory. My only complaint was that this wasn’t working out how I’d wanted it to—by distracting him.
His other hand worked its way down my hip to my thigh, looping around the back. I leaned into his touch, my ass pressing into the edge of the desk. He released my hand, and before I knew it, he slid me onto the desk.
His callused palms caught on the fabric of my jeans as he stroked me, fingers hungry as they squeezed my flesh. His nose brushed my cheek, his breath fanning across my lips. Fuck, I missed the taste of him. “I’m losing my mind, Parker.”
So am I. “We can’t,” I whispered reluctantly.
“Can’t we?” he breathed, a plea in his words.
My palms flattened on his hard chest, not to push him away, but because I needed him to hold me steady right now.
Around Beckham, I was a sailboat on rocky waters, getting whiplash from the way my emotions threw me around.
With Beckham, I led with my heart. Though recently, my mind was agreeing—I wanted to give in, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if—
“The rules, Beckham,” I reminded him, albeit begrudgingly.
My hands slid up his chest, fingers catching in his gold chain. I leaned back to look him in the eye, which was my first mistake. Sheer desperation shone in his eyes, and fuck if it didn’t make me want to say fuck the rules, too.
With a finger looped in his chain, I pressed my other palm flat to the desk and leaned back slightly.
I tugged on the jewelry slightly, urging him nearer but hoping he wouldn’t oblige.
His lips, puffy and so damn kissable, parted as he inched closer.
His eyes were trained on my mouth, and I tilted my chin back, losing all sense of how to breathe.
He gripped my hip bones, holding on like he was trying to keep himself back and utterly failing.
Would I be mad if he closed the distance?
Or more upset if he backed away?
His nose lightly bumped mine, our lips less than an inch apart now. The line we were walking suddenly turned dangerous, something in the way he’d gotten so jealous triggering this response in both of us.
But I was kidding myself. We’d felt this way all along. This incident only brought it to light.
His upper lip brushed my lower with the faintest of touches, and my breath hitched—
My phone buzzing on the desk had me dropping his chain and bracing both hands on the oak.
I’d become breathless without even realizing it, my chest rising and falling with the temptation of him.
“I should get that,” I barely managed to get out.
His eyes moved between mine before he slid me off the desk.
He hadn’t moved back, though, which had our bodies way too close and touching in too many places.
My stomach made it hard for our chests to be flush, but fuck—if that wasn’t there, there wouldn’t be an inch of my body not connected to his right now.
His tongue ran across his lips like he was lapping up any part of me he could get. “You should.”
He finally stepped back, allowing me space to move around the desk to grab my phone.
Lettie: We’re going to the Watering Hole tonight if you and Beckham want to come!
“Who is it?” Beckham asked, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets as he came around the edge of the desk.
“Lettie. She said they’re going to Outlaw’s Watering Hole tonight.” I looked up at him where he stopped beside me. “Wanna go?”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
I shrugged. “Probably your brothers.” But then it hit me. “If you don’t want to go because—”
“I’m alright.” He sent me a reassuring look. “I might’ve quit drinking alcohol, but I can still look at it.”
“I didn’t know.” My gaze moved back to the text thread, my shoulders slumping slightly. “I just thought—” I shook my head. “I guess everyone handles it differently.”
Gentle fingers gripped my chin, pulling my focus back to him. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”
I searched his face for reassurance that he was telling the truth. I didn’t know how bad it got with Beckham and his relationship with alcohol, but I didn’t want to push him too hard and have him falling back to that again.
“You’ll tell me? If it’s too much?” I asked.
He nodded, thumb brushing my jawline. “I’ll tell you.”
One thing I could never see breaking between the two of us was our trust. If he said he’d be okay, I’d believe him.
Me: We’ll pop in after work
Lettie: See you two then!