Troy’s attention returned to the neighbor, giving the guy one final withering look before turning his back on the pathetic sight. As soon as he jumped over the fence, he made to scoop Beck up, but Beck shied away.
“No!”
Troy was confused. He’d never seen Beck so pissed. But there was more to it. Beck seemed…distraught. All of Troy’s pent up rage suddenly melted away and was replaced by a deep-seated need to comfort his man but Beck was sending out don’t touch mevibes.
Beck walked, stiff-legged, into the house, Troy following a few feet behind.
“What the fuck was all that about?” Beck whirled around once they were both back in the woodshop.
“Didn’t you hear what he called us?” Troy planted his fists on his hips, a little of his anger returning. Surely Beck didn’t think the man’s comment should have gone unchallenged?
“Yeah, sure. Mr. Amundson’s an idiot. Always has been. But that didn’t give you the right to go all caveman and threaten him like that.”