Page 14 of Dirty Ginger

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Beckett couldn’t fight the smile on his face, even if he and Amelia had been interrupted. He’d waited years to touch her again. When she’d kissed him, he’d been so shocked it had taken him a moment to catch up. But one look into her pretty eyes filled with desire, albeit mixed with confusion, and he was a goner. Yeah, this would happen on her terms, but he was one hundred percent there for whatever she wanted from him, whenever she wanted him, until he could win her heart back and keep her at his side forever.

Not wanting to make Amelia any more uncomfortable than she already looked at her sisters’ arrival, he’d left to give her space and avoid an awkward conversation he was certain she did not want to have with him there. Later, he’d finish what they started today, and ensure she felt good about it all, but that wasn’t going to happen with her hovering sisters.

When he reached his truck, Clara called from behind him, “Hold up, Beckett.” He sighed. On good days, Clara was tough and had sharp claws. Beckett doubted Clara would consider this a good day. Against his better judgement, he turned to her. “Hello, Clara.”

She stopped in front of her, her face scrunched. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He stared into Clara’s hard blue eyes, knowing her fierceness came from a deep love for Amelia. They’d always been incredibly close. But he didn’t owe her jack shit. “I know you’re worried about your sister, and rightly so, but what happens with Amelia is between us.”

Clara’s eyes slowly narrowed. “You do realize she just had her heart broken, right?”

“Yes, I’m well aware.”

She lifted her chin, crossing her arms. “You also realize that you once obliterated her heart too, right?”

His chest felt the hit, and he deserved the blow. “I’ve never forgotten what I’ve done to her.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” Her nostrils flared as she closed in on him, pointing at his face. “Do not hurt her, Beckett. I’ll kill you myself if you do.”

Beckett wouldn’t put it past her, either. And he knew the Carter sisters were smart enough to get away with murder too.

“Stop it,” Amelia snapped.

Clara whirled around to her sister and gasped, “Amelia—”

“Just stop,” Amelia said, softer now. Her gaze flicked at Beckett’s, steady and strong. “Come back after work, okay?”

“I’ll be here.” He slid his gaze to Clara again. Her breathing was heavy, her teeth nearly bared. Not in all the years he’d known this family had he ever seen her so mad, but he wouldn’t apologize for kissing Amelia today. And he wouldn’t apologize for kissing her later when he came back if she wanted that too.

A second later, he was back in his truck, spotting all three sisters watching him as he drove out of the driveway. He whistled to himself, knowing he might very well be a dead man walking. Yet death was worth it. For years he’d waited to have Amelia again. To taste her. To smell that vanilla scent she carried. Now that he had it all again, he only wanted more, and so did his hard cock. But he wasn’t foolish enough to know that he walked on emotional territory here. Two weeks ago, she had planned to marry someone else, but deep down, he’d hoped she realized that wedding didn’t happen because she was meant for Beckett, not that prick. As the truck hit a pothole in the road, Beckett realized that first, he needed to gain her trust and her friendship again to let her heart reopen to him, and if she wanted to kiss him while that happened, he’d never stop her.

Determined to get his day moving ahead, he slowed at a stop sign and quickly dialed Dr. Alan. The receptionist, Shelby, answered on the second ring. “Hey, this is Beckett. Is Dr. Alan around our area today? I need a horse looked over before we get into training.”

“Hi, Beckett,” she said, her voice bubbly. “Dr. Alan is actually just leaving the Blackshaw Guest Ranch now. Want me to send him your way?”

“Please do,” Beckett said. “Thanks, Shelby.”

“No problem. Bye.”

The phone call ended, and the country music radio station sprang to life through his speakers. Beckett rolled down his window, letting the air cool his overheated flesh. His thoughts desperately wanted to return to Amelia’s sweet and ripe body, but he forced himself to think of the mare and her challenges.

When he reached the farm, it pleased him to see the vet driving up the driveway behind him. Beckett parked next to the paddock where Autumn lived for now. Eventually she’d go out in a small herd. Dr. Alan, with the River Rock Veterinary Clinic logo on the side of his van, parked next to him.

“Hey,” Beckett said when he reached Dr. Alan and his assistant at the hood of their van.

“What do you have for me today?” Dr. Alan asked. He was an astute man, in his late seventies, a face full of wrinkles and wisdom.

“This girl here,” Beckett said, moving to the gate. He grabbed the halter and lead, and Autumn didn’t put up a fuss when he slid the halter over her head.

“Seems well-mannered on the ground,” Dr. Alan said, studying the mare. “What’s the problem exactly?”

Most horses that came through the farm had bad attitudes. The worst of the worst. And Dr. Alan was well aware of that fact. “She’s pure sugar until someone gets on her back, then she’s all sour.”

Dr. Alan chuckled before his expression fell, becoming serious again. Like it did every time he came to give his advice on a horse. Beckett held the lead chank but stayed out of the way as Dr. Alan ran through his examination, alongside his assistant.

By the time Dr. Alan finished, the mare’s ears were pinned back, obviously sick of the flexion tests and all the other poking and prodding she went through. “She’s got some back pain, which I suspect might be from an ill-fitting saddle.” He rubbed at her withers where white hair was located on the right side, indicating trauma where the saddle fit. “Other than that, I’m not seeing anything medically wrong which would be causing her behavior.”

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