Page 31 of Tempted By the Broken Cowboy
“Don’t mind her,” he says, voice carrying that smug finality that makes my blood boil. “Let me borrow her for a moment.”
Before I can protest, his hand clamps around my arm, firm, unyielding. The whole kitchen is in shock as he pulls me from my seat and drags me out of the kitchen.
We pass my suitcases, still hidden beneath the stairs like some dirty secret.
“Beck—“ I hiss, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. His stride swallows mine, dragging me up the stairs before I can catch a proper breath.
He doesn’t stop until we are in my room. He slams the door shut, rattling the frame, and suddenly it’s just the two of us—me, seething, chest heaving, and him, standing too close, eyes blazing with something I don’t dare name.
I yank my arm free, heat rushing through me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He doesn’t flinch or back down, just stares, jaw tight.
I cross my arms, waiting for the smirks and smartass remarks. I can already hear it in my head—Beck gloating, rubbing salt into the wound.
But instead, he leans back against the door, arms folded across his chest, gaze cutting through me. Calm. Controlled.
Unable to stand the silence any longer, I cave first. “If you are here to gloat, get it over with so I can leave.”
His eyes soften, but only slightly, and I almost miss it. “I’m not here to gloat, Quinn.”
The words knock me sideways. My mouth parts, but no sound comes out.
He pushes off the door, steps closer, and lowers his voice. “I’m here because I think we should work together.”
My laugh is sharp and bitter. “Work together? You already won. Isn’t this the part where you tell me to leave and never look back?”
That damn smirk finally shows, but it’s different this time—softer, playful. “Not yet. The truth is, I want to see more of what you’ve got to offer.” His eyes dip, just for a second toward my cleavage, and my whole body burns.
I cross my arms over my chest protectively, but that only makes them pop out more, so I drop my arms back to my side, jaw clenched tight in anger. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
He chuckles, low and deep—he’s enjoying this too much. But then his expression shifts, steadying. “I’m serious, Quinn. You’re good. Better than I expected. And I can’t keep disappointing myfamily, so if working with you is what’s needed to make them proud and stop worrying about me, then so be it.”
The heat in my chest changes—anger melting into something warmer, something dangerously close to hope. “Are you messing with me?”
He shakes his head, plopping himself onto my bed. “No, I’m very serious.”
I blink, trying to gather myself. “You know what giving in to me means, right?”
“I know. I’m ready,” he assures, watching me carefully, that unreadable look in his eyes that makes me nervous. But I don’t want to read too much into it—he’s already agreed, and I’m not going to waste any time.
“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll go get the itinerary,” I decree, turning on my heel.
“I’ll be here,” he smirks, waving me away.
I can’t stop myself from smiling as I run downstairs to get my suitcases, the excitement bubbling out despite everything. For the first time since I arrived, it feels less like defeat and more like possibility.
12
BECKETT
The sound of my door creaking open stirs me awake, my ears perking up as I listen to the soft footsteps headed toward my bed. Quinn’s fragrant scent hits me, confirming that it is indeed her, but I don’t move. I’m still groggy with sleep, and my room is pitch black, so I can’t see much.
“Up and at ’em, Morgan,” she whispers, like this is some big secret mission.
I groan and bury my face deeper into my pillow. “What the hell, Quinn? It’s the middle of the night.”
“It’s morning,” she insists, tugging at my arm.
