Page 50 of Hogging the Hunk
I was too late. Ellie came to a skidding halt, and the entire contents of her cup sloshed onto Beckett’s shirt. Instinctively jumping back, Beckett gasped. Gooey, half-melted marshmallows clung to her chest and ends of her hair, while hot chocolate dripped through her clothes in streams.
“Whoops.” Ellie’s tone was sincere, though her attention wasn’t on Beckett.
Ellie was staring up.
Overhead, Bonita and Granny had reappeared, hanging over the railing with their migratory mistletoe. Their intended targets had been Beckett and I until Ellie so thoroughly spoiled their plan.
I had to give Ellie credit for her execution. That’s about where the good feelings I had ended.
“Is that mistletoe?” Ellie pointed toward the bobbing wad of greenery. Standing on her tiptoes, she pulled on my shoulders until I bent down far enough for her to kiss me on the cheek. “What a silly tradition, don’t you think?”
Beckett smiled feebly. Ellie had caught us both unaware, though her scheme was paper thin. She’d predicted Granny’s next move down to the millisecond and had plotted to keep my lips off Beckett’s by any means necessary.
Dabbing fruitlessly at her clothes with napkins Trixie and Hudson had handed over, there was no saving Beckett’s outfit with them.
“You’d better get changed,” Hudson warned. “If you don’t get those clothes washed, you’ll never get out that chocolate.”
“That would be a shame.” Trixie took the soiled napkins from Beckett. “Rinse it in the sink with a little dish soap first, and it should come right out.”
“Thanks. Yeah, I’d better go. Good thing I already have a backup outfit,” Beckett said, trying to lighten the mood with a joke.
The idea made me smile a little. Of course Beckett was prepared enough to have a backup outfit for the party.
Maren found her way to her sister, and wrapped a comforting arm around Beckett, ushering her up to the house while Hudson and Trixie tackled the mess on the ground. Remi shooed Truffle away from the puddle of chocolate so she wouldn’t start lapping it up.
“Go on. Shoo!” Remi waved her hands at the stubborn pig. “Hot chocolate will only give you a stomachache.”
Ellie and I retreated, tugging on Truffle’s leash to draw her away from the murky puddle. Frustration hit me and every other pleasant feeling I’d been enjoying was burned up like paper in a fire, and swiftly forgotten.
“Ellie, what were you thinking?”
I was working on a stern, fatherly lecture about responsibility and good choices when the tears in Ellie’s eyes stopped me as effectively as running into a brick wall.
“Dad.” Ellie’s eyes swam with more tears, causing fissures in my stony heart. “Can we go home now?”
Chapter Fifteen
Beckett
The pace of my heartbeat was the same as when I walked into my final exams at med school. Did this day matter as much as that one had?
Milo had texted me at dinner, asking if I had any white chocolate chips. Since our baking pantry was always stocked to the brim, in case something horrific happened, like the zombie apocalypse or cocoa trees went extinct, I didn’t even have to get up to confirm we had at least two bags.
I sent him a confirmation text and watched the phone with rapt attention as the conversation bubbles rippled.
Could we borrow a bag? Milo texted, underscored by a crossed-fingers emoji. He was desperate, and I wanted details why.
After texting each other throughout dinner, I’d learned it was Ellie’s idea to make cookies, and so far, it had been going horrifically wrong. They’d burned the first pan, dropped the second, used baking powder instead of baking soda on another, and now they were out of white chocolate chips, as was the grocery store, since they’d already bought the rest of their stock. I had commandeered several bites of Milo’s food whenever we ate together. At first, I snuck pieces when he turned his back to find his silverware. Once he called me out on my theft, I gave up and started sampling while he watched me taste-test his leftovers. He was a splendid cook. That didn’t always translate over to baking.
I’ll be right over, I’d texted.
It was a good thing eagerness wasn’t always readily apparent through texts.
Abandoning my unrinsed plate in the sink, I’d primped myself just enough to freshen up before grabbing the keys for Granny’s truck. The snow outside was thick and sticky, and my fuel-efficient sedan was no match for it. It went without saying that Granny was happy to lend it to me once she knew my destination.
The drive to Milo’s place was uneventful, if slow going. Parking in the driveway, I appreciated it’d been cleared for me. I ambled to the front door, calming myself with a mindful breath and self-affirming thoughts. Maybe I was pushing things too much. My visit, even if I was donating the supplies they needed, could be perceived as a threat.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and it stopped me where I stood. I used my teeth to pull my gloves off my fingers so I could swipe open my phone and read it. If Milo had changed his mind and preferred I leave the baking chips on his front porch, I wanted to know before I rang the doorbell.