" Oh my god, Bella, what have you done?”
Bella jumped as she turned to face Nathan, seeing his wild eyes, his pale features, his hard, buff body stalking across the front yard, his chest slick with sweat, bits of the grass he had been cutting sticking to his jeans as he strode furiously to where her car met the back of his truck.
“It’s just a little dent, Nathan. I promise . . .” Her heart was in her throat. Not in hear. He would never hurt her. But he sure knew how to pout when he wanted to.
“A little dent.” He gripped her shoulders, moving her aside as he stared down at the crumpled fender as it sank into the bumper of his truck.
It was an accident. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t been wearing those butt-snug jeans and boots with no shirt as he cut the lawn, it would have never happened.
“You hit my truck.” Male pride and offended dignity filled his voice. “That’s my truck, Bella.”
Yes. It was. And he was very proud of the powerful, black four-by-four he babied worse than any woman would a child. She would be jealous if it weren’t for the fact that he couldn’t actually bring it into the house. "

― Lora Leigh , Wild Card (Elite Ops, #1)