Page 2 of Beckett the Bad Boy (Suitor’s Crossing: The Caldwells #4)

BECKETT CALDWELL

She’s cute.

A complete and utter stranger, but cute.

And fire-engine red from the tips of her exposed ears down to her chest and crossed arms.

Good thing red is my favorite color.

“Why don’t we start with your name, while I get you safely outside?” I ask with a raised brow once she stops nervously rambling.

Another pretty blush stains her cheeks, and she nods, allowing me to wrap one arm around her back and the other beneath her knees.

With a slight heft to secure her against my chest, I turn to wade back through one of the more interesting ways I’ve started a Monday morning—a busted water main and a woman with an adorable penchant for babbling in my arms.

“So…” I lightly bounce my arm along her back, and the movement causes a chain reaction from her jiggling tits straight to my cock. Dragging my eyes upward, I focus on not tripping on anything hiding in the water, clear my throat, and ask again, “What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Oh, um… Elizabeth. Beth. ”

“And you’re friends with the Reaper’s Wolves MC women?”

“And your sister.” She slams her mouth shut as if she shouldn’t have voiced that connection, too.

In such a small town, and with so many mutual friends, I’m surprised we haven’t officially met before.

I voice my thoughts, sidestepping a floating trash bin.

She manages a shrug as her grip around my neck tightens. “I haven’t lived in Suitor’s Crossing long… Fuck !” A spray of water explodes from the wall to our left to nail both of us in the face.

“Shit!” I shout and spin to take the brunt of the impact, although we’re both coughing water out of our mouths.

It’s no secret that City Hall is old. Hell, a lot of the original buildings on Main Street are. But the pipes shouldn’t be so rickety as to pop like cans of biscuits straight out of the fucking wall.

My booted feet quicken their pace until solid ground greets me instead of splashes of water and squishy carpet.

The City Hall entry steps are dark from moisture, but at least they’re not slick, and we’re no longer in danger of getting blasted from another rogue pipe.

“Are you okay?” I carefully lower Beth to the grass a slight distance from the crowd of people staring at the flooded building.

The police have cordoned off the street on three sides of the structure, and a line of traffic clogs the fourth side.

It’s going to be a bitch for anyone to leave with their car. Street parking is blocked either by other vehicles or caution tape—not to mention the small lake the burst water main created.

Beth dries her cheeks with the bottom of her cardigan. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you for rescuing me.”

“It was my pleasure.” A jolt of bewilderment catches me off-guard.

It was a pleasure holding her in my arms.

Listening to her awkwardly explain knowing who I am.

She’s not the first woman I’ve saved on the job, and she won’t be the last, yet I’m lingering by her side, remembering the feel of her in my arms when I should get back to work.

I’ve dealt with transference in the past. When someone I rescued attached romantic feelings to me because of the heroic act.

But this is the first time the opposite has happened.

Bullshit.

Ridding myself of the ridiculous notion—this is plain-old attraction, not the beginning of a romantic attachment, or fucking heart sparks —I decide it’s time to leave before I do something stupid like ask for her number.

I don’t date locally.

Not anymore.

My family already makes fun of the bad boy reputation I earned in high school that then followed me into adulthood. I’m not about to add to the lore by fucking one of Kennedy’s friends.

Hell. No.

Raising a hand in farewell, I mutter, “See you around,” then stalk back to what should be my primary focus—a flooded City Hall.

Not a cute, curvy stranger.

“Was that our neighbor I saw you with?” Grady asks upon my approach a few minutes later. We started at the firehouse around the same time and naturally gravitated toward each other, forming an easy friendship.

“Our neighbor? You know Beth?”

Grady smirks. “A pretty girl lives across the street from where we eat, sleep, and work dozens of hours a week? Yeah, I noticed her, though I don’t know her… yet.” He slaps the back of my shoulder with a confident wink.

Usually, Grady and I get along fine. We’ve been each other’s wingman too many times to count whenever I’m looking for a little fun and female companionship in Seattle. But, for some reason, his cavalier attitude about Beth grates on my nerves.

“Keep it that way,” I grunt, watching as more City Hall employees are hustled out of the building.

“I know you have a rule about not dating anyone local, but I don’t.”

“You’re free to date whoever you want except for Beth. She’s off-limits.” I don’t know why I’m pushing this. Didn’t I already decide that this is a perfectly normal physical attraction, and not something more?

Why should I care who Beth dates?

Why should I care if the man she allows to touch all those soft curves is one of my closest friends?

Grady tilts his head, confusion wrinkling around his eyes. “You want her? That’s not like you.”

“She’s friends with my sister,” I say by way of explanation. “She’s too close to home.”

“Right…” Grady drawls. “But she isn’t your actual sister.” We’re silent for a moment, then he shrugs nonchalantly and raises his hands. “Whatever, no hot neighbor for me. Ready to get back to work?”

Our captain is waving us over, and I exhale in relief, nodding as we walk his way. Anything to distract me from the uncomfortable conversation.

And from thoughts of Beth, our hot neighbor .