Page 8 of Beckett the Bad Boy

I drag a bright smile to the forefront, attempting to mask my discomfort. “What? No. You caught me off guard. I hate swallowing pills, and you appeared right as I took them, and—” My lips smack together as I cut off my rambling.

What the hell is wrong with me when it comes to this man?

For some reason, my composure flies out the window, and I can’t keep my mouth shut. It’s weird and out of character because I’m usually overthinking and overly cautious with my words.

Beckett obliterates that filter when he should be the one who causes me to clam up even tighter.

Because I want to impress him.

I want him to like me.

I inwardly groan at feeling like a middle schooler with their first crush.

“They make powdered packets of ibuprofen and acetaminophen. Other meds, too. Have you tried that?” he asks, concern dotting his expression.

No.

No, I have not.

Because I didn’t know that was A. Fucking. Thing!

I really should research more.

“Nope, but I’ll look into it. Are you here to help prepare for the fundraiser?” Switching subjects seems best if I want to hang on to a shred of my dignity.

You know, the teeny scrap that is left.

“Yeah, Kennedy asked us.” He must be referring to his brothers—the rest of the Caldwell siblings, who I haven’t seen yet, but I’m guessing are filling the banquet room with tables and chairs. “Here, let me help you while we’re waiting for the pain meds to kick in.”

Beckett eases closer, his large palms moving to either side of my head, before the confident massage of fingertips against my throbbing temples sends a river of goosebumps over my skin.

“Um… You don’t have to do t-that,” I stutter, frozen in place under his firm but careful ministrations.

This close, the silver of his eyes is a bullet straight to my racing heart, and it’s a good thing I’m not a fucking werewolf because I’d be dead on the floor.

Death by a handsome fireman.

What a way to go…

Why does he affect me so strongly?

Beckett has an identical twin.

Ezra has the same steel gray eyes and black hair, though he’s more polished. His hair styled rather than left shaggy like Beckett’s. More likely to be found in a suit than tees. He’s more serious, and by all accounts, we share a lot of similar personality traits.

But he’s not the one I want.

I mean he’s taken now by Lauren, but even when he was single, he’s never been the Caldwell twin I’ve been drawn to.

It’s always been Beckett.

From the first time I saw him across the street hauling hoses across the firehouse’s front lawn during a training exercise. Thenagain, when he’d surprised me by appearing at the Reaper’s Wolves MC clubhouse with Ranger during a book club meeting.

“Actually, I do. It’s part of my job description as a first responder: always provide whatever aid is necessary.” He winks, and a flicker of excitement wings to life in my belly.

Is he flirting with me?

Is he not totally scared off by my nervous chatter and slightly stalkerish admissions?