“I’m there right now.”

He sighs. “The trucker is on a tight timeline, needs to turn the truck, and get back before that storm hits the Midwest…. Man, I hate to ask …”

“No, you don’t.”

He laughs deep and loud, and there’s the sound of movement on the other end of the phone. “You’re right. I don’t …”

“You suck for asking when I just got here and am on my fifth or sixth cerveza, but yeah, I’ll drive back to town in the morning and open up shop for the delivery.”

“Thanks, brother. I owe you.”

“That’s the understatement of the year.”

“Hm. Maybe you already were paid in kind.” He laughs. “I did warn you Ry had a hot friend. I guess you decided to dip your thermometer in and take her temperature.”

“You’re a sick fuck!”

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

“True. But nothing happened.” I hear the flight called in the background as he snorts a response to my denial. “Fly safe.”

“Later. And thanks.”

I hang up the phone and immediately dial my own cell, part of me hoping she picks up the phone, and the other part of me hoping she misses the call.

I have one more ring before my voice mail picks up when she answers.

“’Lo?”

The male voice throws me for a loop. I pull the phone away from my ear and look at the screen to make sure I dialed the correct number. Yep. Sure as shit did.

Who the fuck is answering my phone? Did I lose it at the wedding instead?

“’Lo?” he says again, irritated. He’s irritated? He’s answering my fucking phone.

“Who the hell are you?”

“What’s it to you?”

His arrogance fuels my temper. “Because it’s my goddamn phone you’re answering.”

“What?” Now it’s his turn to be confused as fuck. “Hey, babe?” he says, his mouth pulled away from the receiver, but I can still hear it clear as day. And I can hear Haddie’s voice answering him.

Babe? Did I actually hear that right? Did I miss something?

“Some guy is calling and says you have his phone….”

I hear shuffling and garbled words. “Hello?” Her breathless voice fills the line, and even though I’m not really sure what in the hell is going on, my balls tighten at the sound of her sexy-ass voice.

“You have my phone.” I’m not trying to be a dick, but I can’t help it. Less than ten hours ago, we were having sex, and now she has some guy answering my phone? I guess when she says no strings, she really means no strings. “When can you take time out of your busy schedule to meet up so we can switch?” I can’t hide the sarcasm in my voice.

Seems like sweet Haddie isn’t so fucking sweet.

She’s silent for a beat. “Becks?”

“Yup.” At least she remembers my name. Fucking ridiculous. “When can we meet up?”

“Becks, are you okay?” There’s a concern that I don’t want to hear in her voice, but by now I’ve moved from shocked to bitter. Fucking women. “Oh. Oh,” she says as she realizes why I’m pissed. “It’s not what you think. Dante’s—”

“How about tomorrow? What time can you meet tomorrow, babe?” Did I really just say that? What the hell am I jealous for? No fucking strings, right? So then why do I feel like I’m tangled in a goddamn cobweb?

“Oh …” I hear the hurt in her voice. And now I’m pissed that I’m acting how I’m acting. It was a night of incredible sex. Get over it, dude. Grab your balls back and suck it up.

Then I hear her sigh. And fuck if that sound doesn’t bring back memories of burying myself in her last night, over and over into the early morning.

“Um, I can’t,” she says, and I can hear the television in the background fading as she moves around. “I have a commitment tomorrow, and then an event all night.”

I bet you have a commitment. I shake my head. “Where’s the event?”

“Downtown. I can meet up with you in the afternoon before I have to be there if you want.”

“Fuck,” I say, since I was hoping to head back to the ranch after I met with the trucker. “Yeah, okay … I’ll figure out how to make it.”

“Becks?”

I hate the searching tone in her voice. If this really was a onetime thing, then why are we both acting like fucking teenagers?

And they say sex doesn’t complicate things.

“Yeah?” I respond, but I’m getting impatient. I want to hang up, get my phone back, and take a break while Ry and Colton are on their honeymoon so that we can skip this awkward stage where both of us are overanalyzing what the other is thinking.

She sighs again. “I just … last night …”

And then I hear his voice again. “Babe, I’m gonna hop in the shower.”

“… was a mistake,” I finish for her. Great sex but huge mistake. You don’t fuck friends. Lesson learned.

“No, it wasn’t. I thought that—”

“Apparently it was.” I shift and move toward my bedroom just in case Walker is listening. “We may have agreed to no strings, Had, but fuck if we didn’t fray the edges some.”

“‘Fray’?”

“Yeah.” I take a deep breath.

“What the hell does that mean, Becks? We both went into it knowing what was there.”

“Yep, we sure did.” Mayday, Mayday, this conversation is going downhill fast.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“We blurred the lines,” I say, “and now we need to clear them up.”

“You sound pissed.”

“Nope, I’m just fucking peachy. I’ll call you when I’m in town tomorrow.”

“Becks, wait! I don’t unders—”

“Your rules. I sure hope they’re clear to you. Good night.”

When I hang up the phone, a mixture of anger and relief sits unsettled in my gut. Whatever. Bygones. I toss the phone on the counter and take a long pull on my beer.

“‘Peachy’?” I cringe at the sound of Walker’s voice. The eavesdropping little fucker. “Who was that?”

“Shut the fuck up, dude.” I toss my bottle cap at him. “None of your business.”



Chapter 6

Just fucking peachy?

If there’s supposed to be no strings—which was my own rule, for God’s sake—then why am I standing here staring at Becks’ phone, upset at his nonchalance about last night?

Shit, he has every right to be an asshole to me. I groan at the irony that today of all days Dante would show up and then answer my damn phone.

Beckett’s damn phone.

I rest a hip against the kitchen counter, and as much as I tell my head not to go there, I can’t help the thoughts and images playing in a loop from last night. I remember looking up at him as his arms flexed on either side of my body, filling me, challenging me, satisfying me.

I groan again, trying to shake both the ache from my core and the disquiet, knowing Becks is pissed off. I clench my jaw and shake my head. I shouldn’t care that he’s upset, shouldn’t give a flying fuck that he was snide with me. Whatever. This is exactly what I feared was going to happen. Weirdness between us.

I shake my head in frustration. Can’t a girl get a guy to give her a little dick without thinking that he deserves more?

I sigh out loud, the snarkiness starting to abate and the guilt starting to walk over the well-worn welcome mat laid out for today.

Dante laughs at something he’s watching on the TV in the other room, and I immediately roll my eyes.

Fuck.

I can’t imagine what Becks is thinking right now. I glance down at his phone in my hand and can see how I made the mistake of grabbing the wrong one. I look over to the kitchen counter, where my jeweled phone case rests. The one I took off yesterday so that I could slip my phone into my bra under my dress undetected.

My internal debate over whether to call him back and explain Dante’s presence is almost decided, finger ready to dial, when Dante himself asks the question I’m trying to figure out myself.

“Who was that?”

I look over to him leaning against the doorframe into the kitchen. Hands shoved into his pockets, pushing them to ride low on his hips, a hint of the toned and inked abs beneath showing. He smirks when he sees my eyes dart down to the span of skin. Confidence is something he most definitely doesn’t lack.

“Good question,” I murmur mostly to myself as I try to figure out the answer as well as why I have so many unsettled feelings.

Dante snorts out in amusement. “Babe, you have his fucking phone, so it’s kind of obvious he is somebody.”

What exactly he is to me though, is the damn question. I pull my head from the land of orgasms and what-ifs and tell myself I must be too damn close to my period if I’m this wishy-washy over sex that’s just supposed to be sex.

Head straight, libido on lock down, Montgomery. I look back and focus on Dante—a hot but royal pain in my ass—trying to dig for information and, by the look in his eyes, possibly wanting something more. Dante may see a vacancy sign flashing above my head, but he’d better think again because I’ve grown from the mesmerized girl he once dated. I might have once thrived on the reckless nature of who we were together—living on the edge, sharp words followed by hotter than hell makeup sex. Explosive emotions calmed momentarily for the coveted few days of peace before the cycle started all over again.

I break our connection and glance away; my mind immediately moves back to Becks and the hint of things I don’t deserve. I push all thoughts away and toss the phone on the counter, the thud of it echoing into the emptiness I feel inside of me. “Nah, he’s nothing. Just a mistake.”

“I do believe you used those same words to describe me once,” he says, suggestion in his tone as he makes his way across the kitchen.