Page 13 of Hogging the Hunk
My gaze wandered to the calendar on the fridge. Yep. Maren had written in cherry red ink and caps that she would be gone for the next two weeks. Below, scrawled in blue, were my daily chores in neat little rows. I had willingly become an indentured servant so my sister could go gallivanting off to somewhere beautiful with her equally gorgeous Hollywood-hunk-of-a-husband while I stayed behind, boyfriendless and chained to milking my sister’s goats.
I needed to figure out why life was holding a grudge against me and grovel for whatever wrong I’d done, pronto.
“I didn’t forget,” I reiterated. For Granny or for me, I couldn’t say.
“Yes, you did. That’s why Becky isn’t happy. Maren would have milked and fed her by now, which means you should have milked and fed her by now.”
“I’m on top of it.” Shoving the bacon in my mouth, I chased it down with the rest of my banana. It wasn’t a good combo. “Maren and I sometimes do things differently, but it gets done.”
“Uh huh. Well, I washed the milk pails for you. They’re in the drying rack.”
My eyes bounced from the spotless stainless steel milk pails to the left of the sink, over to the clock on the oven, and circled back around to Granny. Calculating how much time I had to get Maren’s list of barnyard chores done before I had to go to work, it wasn’t much. Probably not even time to shower…
“Granny, can you—?”
“Nope.” Granny took the rest of the bacon with her to the kitchen table. “I have a book club meeting I can’t miss.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
She sucked the grease off her fingers. “Yep. Besides, I’m helping Maren with the mid-day chores while you’re at work.”
“Don’t you mean you’re supervising the people who work for Maren when they show up for their daytime shift?”
“Supervising is work.” Granny smacked her lips as she chewed. “Plus, I’ll have to take the clothes off the line when they’re done drying. I’ll be lucky if I have enough energy to cook dinner. Maybe you should pick up something on the way home.”
Yanking Maren’s barn coat off the hook by the back door, I rolled my eyes again, though all the teasing had been retracted. She was doing this to watch me squirm. So, I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
“Save some hot water for me.” Collecting the milk pails, I unlocked the back door. “I know you enjoy boiling yourself like a lobster when you take a bath.”
“After being outside for ten minutes, lukewarm water is going to feel incredible.”
Smiling through gritted teeth, I knew when I’d been beaten. There was no point in arguing with Granny, and the longer I took, the more likely I’d have to rush into work smelling like soiled shavings and goat musk.
Turning the doorknob, I bumped it open with my hip. The motion sensor light flooded the yard at the same time the crisp morning robbed all the air out of my lungs. If a missing sock had chilled me while I was still inside, outside was like stepping into Antarctica. I could feel the cold niggle its way through my exposed flesh and nestle deep into my bones. Sliding my feet into Maren’s boots, I thanked my lucky stars that at least they were fleece lined.
Picking up the pace, I trotted toward the barn. With each step away from the house, the temperature seemed to plummet. By noon, it would be balmy enough, but Maren’s coat and boots were hardly enough to stave off hypothermia without proper clothes underneath. I slowed, considering zipping myself into Maren’s coat. No, that’ll only waste precious time. Time I’d need to take a tepid shower before I sprinted off to work.
The deep night sky was lifting, and the last of the stars were fading as daylight took its turn brightening the sky. Halfway through a sigh, admiring the simple beauty of a country morning, Becky again screamed impatiently from her stall.
I turned the corner to the barn door, too preoccupied with the terse words I was going to sling at Becky and the revenge I was plotting for Granny, I ran smack into something unyielding.
My scream was as loud as anything Becky had bleated that morning. I ricocheted off the unexpected obstacle and tumbled to the unforgiving concrete aisle. My butt took the brunt of my fall and when I opened my eyes, I was staring up at the rafters where a pair of green eyes gleamed back at me. Parker and Maren’s cat, Slo Jo, peered at me. Her tail twitched, amused at my misfortune.
“Laugh it up, Slo Jo. You’ll be on my hit list next.”
Milo Fox leaned over me and a small scream eked up my throat before I clapped a hand over my mouth. “You have a hit list?”
He was the one I’d bounced off of. More specifically, his chest. The man was built like a tank.
“If I tell you who’s on it, I’ll have to add you, too.”
Wisely, he kept any further quips behind a constrained smile.
“You alright?” he asked. His hands were anchored on his knees and his eyes never left my face. “That was quite the spill.”
“Yes, it was. When I ran into you the last time, you caught me. What gives?”