Page 18 of Moms of Mayhem
“You know, I could always call the Sheriff”—I poked him once more for good measure—“on you. Mention that I finally figured out who brought a cow into Linwood High and led it up the stairs during homecoming week.”
“That was never proven.”
“Oh, please. I found the ear tag two weeks later in the janitor’s closet. It had your granddad’s ranch name on it.”
His mouth twitched. “That could’ve been any Conway.”
“Sure,” I deadpanned. “Because your cousin Maggie was definitely the one in the security footage wearing an inside-out Mayhem Hockey hoodie.”
He rubbed a hand over his face, laughing under his breath. “And who’s to say the ear tag wasn’t a plant? What if I was framed?”
“Uh-huh.Sure.On the night before you left for Juniors”—I scrunched my nose, giving a little sarcastic nod—“I believe it.”
Beckett grinned, and I had to shut my eyes to block out how unbelievably gorgeous he was. “Did you know it took the fire department three hours and six boxes of Little Debbie cakes to coax that poor cow back down? I’m sure the Sheriff would love to finally close the case on Linwood’s cow caper.”
He chuckled, leaning harder on the truck door. “You blackmailing me, Hudson?”
I shrugged. “Just keeping my options open.”
Beckett leaned forward into my space, close enough to whisper, “Pretty sure that’s illegal.”
“Pretty sure you’re a jackass,” I whispered back. “And I’d do anything to protect my kid.”
He shook his head, smiling like he didn’t hate it—and still standing far too close. “Remind me again why we never dated?”
I poked him in the chest, a little harder than necessary. “Because I liked my brother too much to visit him in prison for burying your body behind the rink.”
Beckett caught my hand, pinning it against his chest. The moment our skin touched, it was like sticking a fork in a socket. Heat jolted up my arm and set up camp somewhere low in my stomach. His chest was solid beneath my palm, his pulse steady. Of course it was. Mine, meanwhile, was doing a full gymnastics routine.
“Easy, Mama. I’m already injured. Don’t make me explain the tiny bruises dotting my chest at my next checkup. Your fingers are basically shivs.”
I rolled my eyes and tried to pull away, but he held on, his grip gentle but firm. His head dipped until I had no choice but to meet his gaze again. Those stupid blue eyes sparkled like mischief and morning sunlight had a baby.
“I’m not pressing charges,” he murmured, his voice dropping just enough to make it feel dangerous.
Finally, he let go. I dropped my hand like it burned and flexed my fingers, hoping the air would erase the memory of him.
Beckett reached up and grabbed the top of his door frame, leaning into the stretch, and lifting his shirt justenough to flash the carved V of muscle that led right below his waistband. My eyes flicked down on instinct.
I didn’t look.
Okay, I looked.Briefly.
“In fact,” he said casually, “he’s welcome to use my pond anytime. Least I can do after Ty’s kept us all afloat.”
I squinted at him, forcing my gaze away from his abs and up to his maddeningly perfect face. “Why the hell didn’t you call me when you saw my son?”
Beckett shrugged, the kind that saidI know exactly what I’m doing.“He asked me not to. And I remember those days. If he thinks I’m in his corner, that’s one less person he’s itching to defy.”
I ran my tongue along my front teeth, trying to argue with logic that, annoyingly, made sense. “So, he’s at school.”
“He’s at school.” Beckett nodded. “Watched him walk through the front doors. Was headed to the hardware store, hoping I’d find you.”
“So, you could tell me all about what a delinquent my child is?” I raised an eyebrow, ready to unleash my full Mama Bear if he so much as hinted at judgment. “Or remind me what a mess of a parent I am?”
He stepped closer, his face now inches from mine, voice low and dark. “Nah. You want to pick that fight, Peach. Give yourself a target for all that simmering rage you’ve been bottling up for, what—five years? Ten?”
I held my ground, but my breath hitched when his eyes dropped—just for a second—to my mouth.
