Page 35 of Tempted By the Broken Cowboy
Aww, that’s so cute.
“Then channel that adoration for today. You’re gonna need it,” I encourage.
He groans, the sound dramatic enough to make me roll my eyes. “Hospitals reek of bleach and sadness. I’m allergic to both.”
He’s grasping at straws now, making up excuses.
That one earns a laugh out of me, but I quickly cover it up with a cough. Beck is impossible, the way he acts as if every ounce of effort is going to cost him a limb. But I can’t help watching him from the corner of my eye—the hard set of his jaw, the way his fingers drum restlessly on his thigh. He’s not just being difficult; there’s something underneath.
He hates anything that requires softness. Kindness. Vulnerability.
And maybe that’s exactly why I’m dragging him with me.
“You’ll survive,” I say, because if I let him hear what I’m really thinking—that I want to see what’s under all that armor—he’ll bolt before we even make it out of the parking lot.
Today I’m bringing Beck to volunteer with me at the children’s hospital. It’s something I do on a regular basis, so I thought I’d let him tag along. But similar to the jog with those sweet elderly ladies, he’s being a sourpuss about it. However, I’m more stubborn than he is, so he has no choice but to be here.
The hospital lobby is bright and sterile, the kind of place most people hurry through. But as soon as we step inside, I’m met with smiles, the nurses waving at me welcomingly.
“Quinn! You’re back,” Head Nurse Robin expresses warmly as we sign in at the nurses’ station.
“You know I couldn’t stay away,” I answer, as I jot down Beck’s name as well.
“I see you’ve brought company today,” she comments, looking behind me.
I turn and catch Beck hovering near the doors, probably considering a quick escape. His shoulders are stiff, eyes scanning the place, looking for the nearest exit instead of welcome.
“Looks about ready to run,” she giggles.
“Tell me about it,” I nod, handing her back the clipboard.
“Well, good luck with that. You know where to go.”
“Of course,” I concur, waving Beck over.
He looks unsure but pushes himself off the wall nonetheless, walking up to me. He looks ridiculous—this broad, confident cowboy who never seems to flinch at anything, suddenly restless.
“What’s wrong?” I murmur, tilting my head so only he hears. “Scared of a few nurses?”
He shoots me a glare, but it’s weak, his discomfort written all over him.
“I’m not scared,” he mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I just don’t belong here.”
The words make my chest squeeze, but I cover it with a smirk. “Relax. Nobody’s going to bite. Unless one of the kids asks you to play tea party. Then you’re doomed.”
His scowl deepens, which only makes me bite down on my grin harder. Watching him—Mr. Aloof and Cocky himself—completely out of his depth might just be the most fun I’ve had in forever. And to think I almost said no to this when Jace gave me his conditions for his investment. It would have been such a shame.
“Let’s go. The kids are waiting,” I demand, as I grab his arm and tug him toward the first ward.
He reluctantly lets me pull him, but when we get to the doorway, his steps falter, looking like he’d rather face a stampede than step into a room full of children.
But the kids don’t hold back. As soon as they spot us, they are all over me in seconds, giving me hugs and kisses.
“How are you, my loves? I missed you,” I giggle, sharing their love back.
“We missed you too,” they chorus.
“Who is that?” Jack, a cheeky cutie known for his mischief, asks, pointing at Beck as he hugs his Batman blanket tight.
