Page 34 of Hogging the Hunk
It didn’t escape my notice that Ron talked about animals the same way he talked about women. An angry boil swelled inside me. I suppressed it. Bit my tongue. Focus. Do not teach ignorant men lessons they’ll refuse to learn.
“I heard that Beckett’s single. Word’s going around town that she and her Prince Charming have called it quits. It’s a good thing for the rest of us. Now I don’t have to feel guilty for stepping on another man’s territory.” He laughed heartily, clutching his beer gut like it might peel off and flop onto the floor if he didn’t keep it in place. “Not that it would stop me from making my advances if she did have a boyfriend. I know how to show a woman a good time.”
Unloading a delivery box of iodine onto the counter, I tucked the piglet into the box. She nestled into the heating pad and already had more color to her. There was still hope for her yet.
“I bet Beckett is a great kisser. With a mouth like that, she’s gotta be. And what guy wouldn’t like to get their hands on her—”
I had Ronald by the collar of his shirt in a fraction of a second. He didn’t have time to react. Neither did I. It had been a purely instinctual move, happening faster than reason could stop me. Ron’s pupils dilated to the point they almost crowded out the muddy brown of his eyes and his jaw floundered open in surprise.
“What are you doing?” he stammered.
“Stop talking about Beckett that way,” I growled.
“What way?” His eyes shifted with genuine confusion. How it was possible for someone to be so dense that he truly didn’t know he was demeaning another human being by discussing them like they were a slab of meat at the butcher counter was beyond me.
“If you don’t know,” I clenched my fists tighter around his collar, “then maybe it’s better not to talk about her at all.”
“I was just thinking aloud, man.” Ron squirmed, but I didn’t relinquish my grip. “It’s not illegal to notice a woman has a nice bod—”
That did me in. The thought of Ron so much as laying his eyes on Beckett spurred me into protection mode. With one hand still on his shirt, I drug him to the back door, kicking it open so I wouldn’t destroy Ron with my rage. He could deny I’d tossed him out back by the dumpsters like the trash he was. A black eye from me would be a lot harder to explain for both of us.
“I think we’re done here.” Gruffly, I released my hold on his collar and sent him stumbling.
He recovered his footing, a mixture of anger and fear tainting his unimpressive features. Spitting dangerously close to my boot, he wiped his hand across his mouth. “I knew I should have saved myself the trouble and drowned that runt.”
“You don’t have to worry about her anymore. She’ll recover under my care and will find a good home. You, on the other hand, ought to go home and take a good, long look in the mirror and reflect on the way you treat women. It’ll save you from a lot of guilt. You’ll thank me for it.”
“Doubt it.”
The glower I leveled at Ronald dared him to talk back again. Retreating toward his rusting farm truck, held together with duct tape and baling wire, he mustered up the courage to sneer at me from his driver’s side mirror. One step toward him destroyed his courage, and he threw his truck into drive.
Watching him peel out of the parking lot, I raked my fingers through my damp hair. The rain was still coming steadily, though the wind had calmed. What had come over me? Closing my eyes, I dissected my motives. Eventually, I probably would have said something to Ron about his crude and crass behavior, no matter what woman he was speaking about. It was the fury that caught me off guard. He was openly lusting after Beckett. There was no way in a million years she would ever consider an advance from a loser like Ron. Beckett had better sense and personal standards than that. My reaction was because she deserved more respect than he was allotting her, whether or not she could hear the drivel coming from his filthy mouth.
Aside from the impossibility of Beckett falling for Ron, the thought of her dating someone post-Greg twisted my gut.
Giving myself ten seconds to regroup, I went inside. I had a job to do. It wasn’t teaching Ron a lesson, and it wasn’t considering all the things that made Beckett desirable. Channeling my efforts on reviving some life into the piglet was an excellent use of the excess energy that was making my entire frame quake.
“You take out the trash?” Bonita peered in the doorway with Aspen draped across her arm.
“It was about time I’d say.” Glancing at her briefly, wondering if the vein was still bulging in my forehead, I added, “Sorry he made such a mess through the clinic. I’ll mop up after I have a chance to properly look over this piglet.”
“Already did.”
“I would have—”
Bonita held up her hand, and obediently, it silenced me. “Of the two of us here right now, I’m far better at housekeeping than you.”
The piglet gave one shrill squeal as I pulled her from her comfortable, makeshift nest. That was a good sign. She was definitely more alert and had the wherewithal to run from the perceived danger. I had to hold on to her to keep her from scampering straight off the table while I checked her vitals. Studying her tiny body, looking for clues to the cute little piglet’s condition, I forgot Bonita was still watching me, stroking Aspen’s snowy fur, until she chuckled.
I froze, taking my stethoscope out of one ear. “What?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. I know what all that—” she one-handed air quoted, “—taking out the trash was all about. Frankly, I applaud you for it.”
“Applaud me for what? I don’t think that’s the first time Ronald Calhout has been escorted out of a business establishment.”