Page 101 of Major Love

“So, is this how you reel them in? With your poetic tongue?” I ask, mock-earnest, wondering if he can pick up on my sarcasm as I place my hand over my heart. “Beckett, I bet you charm the panties off of every lady you see.”

From the deadly glint in his eyes, he senses the sarcasm and he doesn’t like it. But, if anything, that just spurs me on more.

“That’s usually the case,” he says gruffly, although I can see the flicker of humour in his eyes.

“Except for here, right? Because you don’t ‘piss where you eat’,” I reiterate.

He gives me a once-over. “I didn’t say thatIfollow that rule, Nashville.”

My chest lifts on a curious inhale.

No, I guess he didn’t.

And in the next second everyone’s whipping around as the bar’s front door slams open, hulking shoulders filling up the entryway as molten eyes meet mine.

Beckett leaps away from me so fast you’d think that I’d just burnt him with his lighter.

I shoot him a look. “Chicken.”

He gestures to his junk. “I’m keeping these.”

Then my eyes are back on Jason’s as he all but storms toward me, his scorching gaze pinning me to the counter as he rips the black jacket from his body.

His blacksearch-and-rescuejacket, which is a poignant reminder of what he spent his morning doing: risking his life in the mountains and not even telling me about it.

He stops when there’s barely an inch between us, his muscular chest heaving as he looms over me.

“Where’s your stuff?” he asks instantly.

So hedidsee that I’d packed up and left.

“At Casey’s cabin,” I reply, my voice huskier than I mean for it to be.

His eyes bore into mine. “Bring them back.”

I glance at my glossy nails. “I don’t think I will.”

His jaw muscles flex as he slowly looks me up and down. “We need to talk. Take a walk with me.”

“Here?” I ask. “Or up the mountain that you didn’t tell me you were riding this morning?”

Beckett lets out a low whistle and murmurs, “Oh, boy.”

Jason’s eyes stay trained on mine. “Walk with me. Now.”

I glower up at him for a long moment before spinning around and taking off.

My pace is lightning fast as I descend the back corridor, boots clipping off the hardwood as Jason strides behind me.

And just before I make it to the back door, he rounds my body, towering over me.

“In there.”

He gestures to the dark wood-panelled office on my left, the doorway looking barely big enough to accommodate one of his biceps.

I tear my eyes away from the offending muscles, lashes fluttering as he bears down on me.

“You won’t even fit in there,” I breathe out.

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