Page 290 of Cowboys & Navy SEALs

Nash nodded, his mouth forming a hard line as marbles formed at the corners of his jaw. He let go of Brooke and turned to the man. “What’re you doing here, Tucker?”

He chuckled, but it came out sounding like a sneer. “Same as everybody else. Came to see my old friend tie the knot.” He spit, and the loogie landed a mere inch from Nash’s foot.

“We’ve never been friends.” There was a dangerous edge to Nash’s voice.

A scornful smile twisted over Tucker’s lips. “I see how it is. You treat your women the same way you ride the bulls. Hogging it all to yourself and leaving none for nobody else. What’s the harm in sharing?”

Rage splattered over Nash the moment before he socked Tucker in the jaw, knocking him to the ground.

“You’ll pay for that,” Tucker muttered, clutching his jaw.

Nash reached down and grabbed the front of Tucker’s shirt, yanking him to his feet. He was about to punch him again when Brooke stepped up and caught hold of his arm. She wouldn’t mind seeing the scumbag get pummeled to a pulp, but she didn’t want Nash to be put in a compromising position, especially not today. And it wouldn’t bode well for her either. She’d be a laughing stock if the press got wind of this, and she didn’t want Nash to end up with blood on his tux.

“Don’t. The spineless worm’s not worth it.” Brooke could tell from the enraged look on Nash’s face that the comment had barely registered. “Nash … please let it go. It’s our wedding and we haven’t even had the first dance.”

Nash hesitated and gave Brooke a quizzical look.

“Let’s go back inside,” she urged, “I’m cold.” She gave him an encouraging smile.

Blood was trickling from Tucker’s mouth, and fear had crept into his eyes. He looked relieved when Nash released his shirt and shoved him backwards. Nash jabbed a finger into his chest. “If you ever so much as look at my wife again, I’ll finish what I started. You got that?”

Tucker averted his eyes and scuttled away.

Pride swelled in Brooke’s breast. She liked how proprietary Nash sounded.His wife.At least for the next eighteen months, anyway.

Nash’s shoulders relaxed as he turned to Brooke. He flexed his hand and then shook it, wincing slightly.

He was so breathtakingly handsome, standing there with that fearless expression and ruffled hair. He’d come to her rescue and saved her … literally! She shuddered to think what would’ve happened had he not been here. Her heart swooned, and she fought to get control. “Should we put some ice on that? It’s bound to be sore.”

“Trust me. I’ve had worse.”

“What’s the deal between you and that slime bag?”

He gave her a lopsided smile that sent her heart into summersaults. “I guess the circuit’s just not big enough for the both of us.”

“In other words, you not only kicked his tail a minute ago, but you also kick it on the circuit. That explains a lot. He’s second best.”

He rubbed his neck and began kicking at the dirt. “Yeah … something like that.”

The fact that he was uncomfortable with her praise made him even more endearing.

He looked up. “It’s a beautiful night. Lots of stars out.”

“Yeah.” An awkward silence settled between them, but Brooke couldn’t let this moment pass without clearing the air. “I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot earlier.”

He looked surprised and then amused. “Is that what that was? Poor Bobby’ll probably never recover from that tongue lashing.” He made a clucking sound with his tongue. “First you insult his manhood, and then you insult the poor cowboy for wearing his hat and boots. What’s the world coming to?”

She arched an eyebrow, the anger resurfacing. “Well, maybe he should think next time before relegating a woman to a filly.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure he will.” He gave her a speculative look. “And what about me?”

She got the distinct feeling that he was flirting with her, and she rather liked it. “What about you?” she asked, keeping her voice light.

Mischief danced in his eyes. “Still think I’m a conceited jerk?”

Her lips formed a pout, and then she gave him her best seductive smile—the one that had been known to turn more than a few guys to putty in her hands. “Absolutely.” She eyed him. “Still think I’m a simple-minded debutante?”

“The worst.”

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