Chapter Three
Libby
I wasn’t looking for a man when I came to Montana. Especially not one who looked like he’d been carved out of battle scars and bad intentions.
But Beckett had a way of getting under my skin without even trying. Hell, maybe it was because he wasn’t trying. Because he didn’t chase or charm or flirt. He just watched. Listened. Glared sometimes—but even that felt more like defense than offense.
I was used to that kind of armor.
I just wasn’t used to wanting to touch it.
I wasn’t the kind of woman who dissolved into a puddle of want just because a man was attractive. Relationships, even sex, didn’t come easy for me. Most men either overlooked curvy girls or treated them like a novelty—another notch on a bedpost.
But with Beckett?
God help me, with Beckett I couldn’t think straight.
Every morning, we’d worked together in the round pen. Professional. Focused. Building on the foundation he’d laid with Wildfire, introducing new techniques, pushing the mustang just a little further each day.
And every morning, I’d spend half the time trying not to stare at the way Beckett moved. The controlled power in his body. The gentleness in his scarred hands when he touched the horse. The rare, devastating moments when his mouth would quirk into something almost like a smile.
Yesterday, he’d reached across me to grab a lead rope and I’d caught his scent and I’d actually forgotten what I was saying mid-sentence.
He’d noticed. I saw the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes darkened just slightly before he stepped back and put distance between us.
We were both doing it. This careful dance around each other. Getting close, then retreating. Building something neither of us was brave enough to name.
It was driving me insane.
I walked to the barn slowly, trying to gather my composure.
I pushed open the door, expecting to see him waiting at Wildfire’s stall.
The barn was empty. I walked over to the fence, not going inside the pen.
I was obeying the protocol—aka rule—Beckett had demanded about not going inside with Wildfire alone.
He still worried the mustang might do something unpredictable “Good morning,” I murmured to the horse. “Where’s our grumpy partner?”
The horse shook his head as if to say he didn’t know either. I frowned and walked back out of the barn. I looked around wondering where he could be. He had other responsibilities, but he’d never missed a morning with the mustang.
Thinking he might be eating a late breakfast, I walked into the bunkhouse’s kitchen. Despite his warning to me, I rarely saw Beckett at meal times. The cook was still there, preparing what looked like several to-go boxes. “Good morning, have you seen Beckett?”
The man looked up from his task. “Good morning, Libby? How’s it going?”
I smiled at the man. “Great. I, umm.”
“You’re looking for Beckett aren’t you?” I couldn’t prevent the blush that flooded my cheeks at his words. Was I that obvious?
“Yes. Have you seen him this morning?”
“You couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. This is for him.” He handed me one of the white boxes and I took it automatically. “He’s in the foaling shed. Been there all night.”
He turned around and filled a thermos with coffee. “I’d appreciate it if you could deliver that for me.”
I took the thermos as well. “He missed breakfast?”
The cook nodded his head. “Not the first time he’s done that. Won’t be the last.”
I stood there for another moment, Beckett’s breakfast in my hands. “I’m more than happy to.”
I turned and walked out the door and headed straight to the shed. And there he was, standing in the stall with a mare and a newborn foal—shirt off. God, help a spinster.
I couldn’t pretend I didn’t see the broad stretch of his back, the raw muscle of his arms. The way his jeans hugged his hips just right.
Didn’t pretend I wasn’t staring at the faded burn scars trailing over his ribs and down his left side.
Every inch of him was a study in strength and survival.
I told myself to look at the mare and her new baby.
“I guess I missed all the excitement.” I stood there, box and thermos in hand.
“Yeah. Happened just a while ago.”
“Oh?” I didn’t see a vet. Of course, all my attention was focused on Beckett and all the bare skin. I told myself to chill, but that was difficult when my body felt like it had just sprung to life after a long, cold winter.
As if he sensed my unspoken questions, he said, “The vet was tied up this morning.”
“You’ve done this before? Foaling?” I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, he was a man capable of doing anything he set his mind to.
He picked up a towel and wiped his hands off before walking to the mare and smoothing his hands over her neck, down her back and over her sides. The foal was beneath her, drinking.
“I grew up on a ranch before I joined the military.” There was something in his voice—a quiet competence, a steadiness. There was more to this man who thought he was broken.
“You’re better at this than you give yourself credit for,” I said quietly.
He looked at me then, really looked, and the intensity in his gaze made my breath catch.
“You keep saying things like that.”
“Because they’re true.”
The air between us shifted, and I knew I should step back. Should keep this professional. Should do anything except what I was doing, which was standing here staring at him. “Cook sent you some breakfast.” I set the food on a hay bale. “And coffee.”
“I need to wash up. Pour me a cup?”
“Sure.” I opened the thermos trying not to be obvious in watching him.
What was wrong with me? I was acting like a hormonal teenager about to climb into the backseat of a boy’s car on prom night.
But the sight of him, muscles moving so fluidly, even beneath his damaged skin made my body ache. I wanted him to touch me.
I closed my eyes briefly. Not going to happen. He didn’t need to say the words to me to know he wasn’t looking for a quick roll in the hay. He was just as damaged as Wildfire. Scared. Unwilling or unable to trust.
He dried off, putting a brown flannel shirt. He was eyeing me with a frown on his face as he walked over. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.” I pasted a smile on my face. There was no way I could tell him where my thoughts had wondered. I handed him the coffee and picked up the box with his breakfast inside. “You need to eat.”
He gave me that look again. The one that said he was trying to peel back the layers and see the woman beneath.
I didn’t know what to tell him. I was an uncomplicated woman. I wanted him, plain and simple. But that was something I couldn’t tell him.