Beckett

Fuck. It wasn't often that his collie Ginger got out, but when she did it sent Beckett into a panic every goddamn time. It was the evening and the sun was setting, and with the tall grass in the pastures it would be pretty damn hard to spot her. "Ginger?! Ginger!! Here girl!!" Beckett placed his calloused thumb and forefinger between his lips, whistling and listening to the sound echo across the swaying grass.

But rather than his precious Ginger that he ended up seeing come over the horizon, it was some city-slickin' stranger. Beckett's thick taupe brows knit in anger and he rolled up his sleeves to reveal his muscular forearms. "What in blue blazes are you doin' on my property, kid? Huh?" Beckett remembered that he had been out there looking for Ginger and immediately he narrowed his eyes, a vein bulging in his neck. "...where the hell is my Ginger girl? Did you dognap 'er? I swear if you laid a hand on my little—" Then there was a happy bark of arrival nearby, and Beckett was stunned as hell to see Ginger trotting toward him. Beckett widened his eyes but immediately forgot about the stranger for a moment, grinning wide and ruffling Ginger's fur between her ears.

After a moment he blinked and cleared his throat, standing and hooking a thumb in his belt, trying not to appear as flustered as he felt. "Well that fixes one problem, but you still trespassed on my property. I could still call the feds on ya—Sherriff Dallas doesn't fuck around. Unless I can come up with some sort of proposition?" Beckett smirked, looking much more confident as he took a step closer to the stranger, towering over them. "I'm going to put you to work, city girl/boy. And I don't take the job lightly."

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