Page 22 of Hogging the Hunk
“What?”
“Your boots… they’re not farm boots, are they?”
I’d splurged on the boots almost the second I saw them. Aside from the comfortable arch support and the adjustable straps around the calf to keep them in place, the gold bee zipper pull was an adorable detail. There was absolutely nothing to suggest I would slog through muddy pastures or dirty stalls in my boots.
“I had my car detailed yesterday.” Greg rubbed the back of his neck with an apologetic look. “I’d hate to get—”
“Don’t worry!” I chirped, the smile I’d plastered on hurting my cheeks. “They’re not.”
Hurrying into the car and slamming the door, I hoped Maren and Granny hadn’t heard Greg’s ridiculous concern. Their snickering behind their hands suggested otherwise.
Greg drove slowly out of the driveway, putting his signal on to drive into Button Blossom. Interesting. When he’d called to beg my forgiveness and invite me to spend time with him, I assumed we would head into the city. Easing into my seat, a thrill ascended like a firework before bursting in my chest.
We were cresting our bumpy road. Things would be better after today. And maybe Button Blossom was growing on him. All the better if he developed a soft spot for my hometown.
“Thanks for coming with me,” Greg said.
I stole a peek at his profile. He was handsome, especially when he smiled. “I appreciate you called. I needed some time to cool down after your last visit.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he laughed. “You know I couldn’t have called earlier. I was out of cell service during my last excursion.”
“Right. Yeah, I know. Still…”
My fingernails found their way back between my teeth.
Greg talked, filling me in on the details of his latest trips and how satisfying it was to help people. His adventures tugged on me. I wanted to be there with him, making the world a better place, one child at a time.
Aren’t you helping do that here in Button Blossom?
I watched the pretty scenery pass, all the trees ablaze with color as Greg drove. “Where are we going?”
He grinned conspiratorially. “I have a surprise for you. After I show you, I thought we could go grab a bite to eat.”
A renewed excitement made me jittery. “Sounds good.”
We drove into Button Blossom, and the whole town was bathed in warm autumn light. The town today was worthy of a postcard.
“I know it’s hard when I’m away for work assignments,” Greg said, reaching for my hand and coaxing it over to his side. The feel of his fingers between mine was familiar. “So, I wanted to find a way to help us stay close, even when we’re thousands of miles apart.”
Thoughts too quick to analyze tumbled in my head like a blinding snowstorm. My pulse reacted, and I would have danced in place if I had more room. “What is it?”
Greg only smiled. Driving into the parking lot where I parked the mobile medical unit every Tuesday and Thursday, Greg put the car in park. “Ta-da!”
Gesturing out the windshield to the enormous billboard looming next to the road, it took my mind a minute to catch up with the information my eyes were feeding it. Yesterday, the billboard was a faded advertisement of a real estate agent, if I remembered correctly. Today, it was a fresh photo of Greg in a white lab coat, a stethoscope draped across his neck, dazzling everybody with his signature smile. The dimples in his cheeks were the size of dinner plates and his eyebrows looked like larger-than-life Woolly worms.
“Why are you on the billboard?” I asked.
“It’s kind of a funny story. When I applied as a fill-in for the company who owns the mobile medical unit you drive, someone commented about how I’d be the perfect face of the company. We started brainstorming and one thing led to another, and here we are. Or rather, there I am.”
Greg laughed at his own joke, and I joined, though it was with weak effort. “You wanted to show me you’re on a billboard?”
“Even when you miss me, you’ll see me smiling down at you.”
My palm was suddenly sweaty in Greg’s hand. I extricated myself and rested both hands on my thighs, wiping the perspiration on my velvety skirt. His offering wasn’t making me as happy as he had supposed. Why?
Greg finally noticed my lack of enthusiasm and tore his eyes away from the larger-than-life version of himself to observe me. “You’re not happy about it.”
His statement about my apathy instead of phrasing it as a question ignited a scorching fire in my belly. He assumed he had me all figured out. That he didn’t need permission to draw conclusions about me without my clarification.