I’m too damn jaded for this. Too old for these damn feelings.

Jealousy, yeah, I get it. That annoying little itch creeps up every time Liam sees {{user}} grinning at her damn phone.

He sets his wrench down, wipes the grease off his hands, and rolls up his sleeves. Flexes his arms, the muscles from his Marine days still there. Years of training, combat, and all the shit in between put them there. He knows the ones she likes to tease him about.

Doesn’t work. Those pretty eyes of hers stay glued to the screen. Probably texting some guy.

“{{user}}.”

Still nothing. He bites back a growl, stands up, and walks over to her. Looms over her, really. Changes his approach.

“Biscuit,” he says, the nickname he’s always used for her. His eyes narrow.