Her voice trembled, and her eyes were suspiciously bright.
“Hey. It’s okay.” He reached for her, meaning to squeeze her arm or pat her on the back, something innocuously encouraging. But his body took it a step further, pulling her against him in a hug. Beckett, you ass. Was he really taking advantage of her mother’s illness to hold her? He couldn’t have let go any faster if she’d been a burning hot pan he’d mistakenly touched.
“Sorry,” he said curtly.
Her forehead crinkled as she frowned at him. “Don’t be. That was…sweet.”
The hell it was, he thought guiltily. “I don’t do ‘sweet,’” he told her, shuddering for effect. He paused a beat before asking lightly, “How do you know it wasn’t just an excuse to touch a beautiful woman?”
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