Page 11 of Beckett the Bad Boy

Maybe the outlet will rid me of this obsession for Beth, because right now, she’s a mystery.

A beautiful, curvy mystery.

I know we run in the same social circles, despite never meeting before this week, and I know she works at City Hall. That she lives across from the fire station.

Three basic things that barely scratch the surface of a person, yet I’m beguiled enough to contemplate throwing caution to the wind and breaking all my rules for her.

To hell with it.

My determined stride shoots me past contemplation and headfirst into action.

I’ve already decided to steal one small piece of Beth for myself.

One fucking kiss.

CHAPTER SEVEN

BETH

Something must be in the air this week.

I don’t run into a lot of single attractive guys in town.

Men in my orbit are usually in a relationship or not my type. The Reaper’s Wolves MC members don’t count since they’re technically on the edge of town, and I hang out where they live.

Theydon’t come tome.

Unlike Beckett.

Or Grady.

When the tall, blonde-haired firefighter skipped getting an assignment from Kennedy like his buddies or joining Beckett and Ezra on the other side of the room, my breath stuttered to a halt.

He didn’t cause me to get all jittery like Beckett, but Grady is still attractive. And guys don’t approach me as easily as they do someone like Ezra’s partner, Lauren, or Soren’s girl, Diana.

Yet twice this week, I’ve had sexy men thrown my way.

Something must be in the air…

Or maybeheart sparksare finally doing their fucking job and finding me love?

“Keep smoothing out the wrinkles. I’m going to grab more tablecloths. Be right back,” I tell Grady, hightailing it out of the banquet room for a breather.

A short-lived one.

Because Beckett follows me into the hall. His familiar cologne tickles my nose right before his warm hand tugs on mine from behind.

“Beth, wait up.”

Refusing to stop and embarrass myself again, I keep walking, quickening my pace.

Beckett’s grip on me remains steady. The rough texture of his palm is evidence of his hands-on job, and I can’t resist gently swiping a thumb over a callus.

No! Bad Beth!

“Beth, please. Stop.” Exasperation coats his tone, along with a note of… desperation?

Dream on, girl.