Page 33 of Hogging the Hunk
“No.”
Yes.
“Beckett Kent is, by everyone’s account, an exceptional woman.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m thinking about her.” My attempts to throw Bonita off my scent were as fruitless as a fox walking on two legs so a bloodhound would mistake him as a man.
Annoyed with me, Bonita hammered her pen rhythmically on the desk hard enough it scared Aspen away. I don’t know how Bonita did it, but she just knew what was preoccupying my thoughts. Maybe she ought to go into reading palms and predicting people’s futures through crystal balls instead of wasting her talents being my secretary. “You know, it’s not a crime for you to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
“Content and happy aren’t necessarily the same thing. Or, heaven forbid, you’re more happy. Can’t say I’ve ever heard of someone being too overjoyed that they thought they ought to tone it down.” When Bonita pursed her lips into a tight line, I knew she expected me to listen to whatever she said next. I kept my mouth shut and gave her my full attention. “I won’t push you into anything you’re not ready for. However, half the old ladies in town are raring to set you up with their granddaughters or a friend’s niece or whoever. They want to see you settle down, make some woman incredibly happy. It’s not right that a handsome bachelor like you should be single.”
I thought of Bonita’s comments, and Ellie’s threats. The tragic history I had with Lexi. Where did Beckett fit in with all that? I would never deny that Beckett was incredible. She had the brains, the personality, the magnetism born of raw, physical attraction. A look from her had the power to short out my nervous system and send my heart into a tailspin.
As if beckoned outside by my thoughts, Beckett appeared in the doorway of her mobile office. She stuck out an umbrella and popped it open, wielding it against the sheets of rain. Cautiously descending the stairs, a furious gust of wind wrenched the umbrella out of her hands. She chased it around the parking lot as the wind taunted her by swirling it around. She only gave up when it flew up and disappeared over a large privacy fence. Her balled fists and stomp of frustration were adorable, even from as far away as I stood. I’d never really seen Beckett angry up close, but I bet it didn’t last long. She seemed more inclined to laugh at something than seethe.
I was already pushing my way out the door to go help when Ronald Calhoot slipped in the door, dripping with rainwater. “Thanks, man. It’s really starting to come down out there.”
He clomped chunks of sticky mud off his boots and smeared a long streak across the indoor welcome rug. The murderous rage welling up in Bonita couldn’t have been more intimidating if Ron had dumped a tractor load of manure in Bonita’s living room, though it was impressive how oblivious he was to the venom she was glaring his way. Dude had no idea his life was on the line.
The door slammed shut with a push from the wind, and my eyes went back to Beckett, who was lugging her information sign to an underbelly compartment of the RV.
Ron let out a low whistle as he scratched the bristly stubble growing out of his soft jawline. “Lucky you. That’s what you get to look at all day.”
Genuinely confused by his meaning, I pointed. “ The mobile medical RV?”
“No.” The glint in Ron’s eyes as he stared outside hinted to the thoughts he was entertaining. “The one driving it.”
An icy fist seized my chest. I liked Ron talking about Beckett like she was a piece of meat even less than I liked Greg trying to subdue her to fit his needs.
Beckett retreated back into the safety of the RV, away from the rain and from the reach of Ronald’s wanton gaze. In case she wandered back outside, and Ron was inclined to drool on my floor as he ogled Beckett, I waved him back to a windowless exam room. The further he was from Beckett, the better. “What can I do for you today?”
Ron slouched down into a corner seat and put his scummy boots up on the edge of the exam table. I clenched my jaw. Being in any profession that dealt with people meant I had to accept the tedious balance between overlooking people’s occasional rudeness and risk losing their business if I called them out. The high school student that came in three times a week to clean kennels was off today, which meant I’d be the one mopping up Ronald’s careless footprints. Setting my jaw, I managed to keep my mouth shut.
Ronald fished around in a deep pocket of his raincoat and produced a tiny pink piglet with black splotches spread unevenly along its back. “This piglet’s the runt of the litter, and has been struggling ever since it was born.”
Ronald barely had the piglet out before I lifted it from his hands and began assessing the emergency. “She’s cold.”
“I suspect so.” Ronald pulled a toothpick out of the breast pocket of his flannel shirt and rolled it between his lips. “There’s a bite in the air today. Winter’s not far off.”
Finding the heating pad that had helped many a young animal warm up, I turned it up all the way to get the heat flowing. Wrapping the piglet into the heating pad like a tiny pig-in-a-blanket, she barely cracked open an eyelid to see what was going on.
“It’s imperative she get her body temperature up and get her blood pumping before I can determine if there are any other reasons she’s failed to thrive.” Delicately lifting the tiny piglet, I cradled her in the crook of my arm, rocking her gently like she was a newborn infant. I may have missed some milestones in Ellie’s earliest years, but I had plenty of experience caring for innumerable tiny, helpless creatures. It was the least I could do as penance.
Plus, babies, no matter the species, melted my heart faster than milk chocolate left out in the sun.
“You know who gets my heart pumping?” Ronald’s hand found his chest, and he made movements under his raincoat like his heart was literally escaping the bounds of his ribcage. “Dr. Kent. Woo-wee! I’d go in sick every week if she didn’t only treat children.”
It was official—I did not like Ronald Calhoot. Even Button Blossom had to have a few outliers, and I had suspected for a long while that Ron was one of the worst sorts of scum. Today, he continued to affirm it.
Ignoring Ron’s tawdry remarks about Beckett, I adjusted the temperature on the heating pad. “Has she had anything to eat?”
Ron blinked with confusion. “Beckett?”
“The piglet.” You moron.
“How should I know? Her momma had a whopping thirteen piglets this time. Hardly enough teats to go around. Normally, I would’ve just discarded the runt except I have people lined up left and right for these pigs. That there is a purebred Kunekune piglet. They’re good for pets. Good eatin’, too.”