Page 12 of Plentywood
“Speak for yourself,” she replied. “You’re as excited as I am.”
“For a good doctor, maybe, but not all this shit going on around here.”
As quickly as I finished speaking, an exam room opened and out stepped the new doctor. Jill actually gasped, covering her mouth the second she realized he was real. “Holy…” she whispered.
I’ll admit, I was taken aback by what stood in the hallway. The patient stepped around him and walked past us,I think. My eyes were locked on the man fifteen feet away. How does one properly describe perfection? My breath was lodged in my throat as I tried to gather my thoughts. I immediately wanted him. A feeling I’d experienced only once before after seeing a man.
The new doctor had sandy-blond hair, mussed to perfection. The length was to his collar, with tendrils appearing like sideburns, full and tousled at the front. He leveled his eyes at the pair of us, hesitant to show emotion or acknowledge us standing there. He appeared like one of those models who you knew woke up looking exactly like they did at all times.
I casually waved at him while Jill returned her jaw to its proper location. “Hey,” I spoke. “Sheriff Copeland, but please just call me Hunter. This is Jill,” I added, gently nudging her.
The young doctor placed the clipboard back on a nail and came toward us. Other than a stethoscope around his neck, he wore nothing official to indicate he was the doctor. He was shorter than I was, but tall just the same. Maybe six feet. An inch or so either way. His pale blue button-down hugged his chest perfectly, outlining modest but fit pectorals. A slim waistand lean legs were in tight-fitting, navy-blue slacks, here again, fitting his body like they’d been professionally sewn on.
The young man was one of the types of men that when you saw them, you didn’t know whether to hate them on sight or drop to your knees and worship them. Dropping to my knees was one of my thoughts for sure, but not to worship religiously. Sexual urges that had lain dormant for two years suddenly woke up screaming.Fuck him, Hunter. Fuck him now!
“Ben Hawthorne,” he said, reaching for Jill’s hand.
I assumed she would’ve spoken sooner than ten seconds later or woke up from her wedding fantasy, had she not been so busy ogling him. “J… J… Jill,” she stammered, refusing to let go of his hand.
“And I’m Hunter,” I added, staring directly into eyes I wanted to swim in. Warning bells rang out in my brain. He had the same eye color as Mark had. I’d swum in this same green pool many times, remembering a love lake this same color. Like I had with Mark, I decided I’d dive into his headfirst and worry about the shallowness later.
“And you said sheriff?” he inquired. “You seem awfully young for that role, Hunter.”
The way my name rolled off his tongue made me weak-kneed. His voice wasn’t overly masculine, but it sure as heck wasn’t feminine either. He sounded smooth as silk, like a Hollywood matinee idol. I’d never wanted to hear a man whisper my name into my ear while I made love to him more than at that moment.
Ben was pretty. Referring to a man as pretty can make him seem weak, soft, or girly. He was none of those things. He was simply a beautiful man in a world that tosses that description around too much. I was breathless in his presence. He frightened me. My reaction to him frightened me.
How could I make this man mine?
CHAPTER EIGHT: Benedict
My heart was busy unlocking deadbolts while I waited for the Sheriff to respond to my age comment.
“Well, you’re right, doc. I guess thirty-two is young,” he finally began. “Our old sheriff skipped town, and I was the only deputy at the time, so I got the job,” the extremely handsome sheriff answered, finally addressing my comment.
“But he had to run for re-election and he won in a landslide,” Jill blurted out. “Hunt is very respected in our town.”
I returned my eyes to Hunter. “I’m sure he is,” I agreed. “You must be so proud of your husband, Jill.”
They laughed simultaneously. Perhaps a bit too strongly. “Oh, gosh no,” Jill stated. “Hunt is like my brother. He was married to my brother.”
I listened to Jill speaking, but all I really heard her say was that the Sheriff was once married to a man.This hunk was gay?Hunter was certainly not future husband material, but I could see the sexual draw of a man like him. I’d had mysexual fantasyman. But now I wanted something true and long-term.
“Wasmarried?” I asked, realizing that I may have overstepped by asking.
“He passed away two years ago,” the Sheriff revealed.
I watched as Jill placed her hand on his arm, her concern readily apparent. I couldn’t tell you whose eyes filled fastest, but they both obviously had their fair share of evident pain.
Hunter turned away from me. His profile was incredible to witness. He had a strong nose with full lips and a square jaw one would associate with a man of the law. He actually looked like a lawman you’d see in a western film. However, this guy’s movie would be R-rated. He was a tall drink of water. Built broad across the chest, and even in his sheriff’s uniform, you could tell he was ripped, possibly jacked to the max.
A buzzed head and deep blue eyes the color of an ocean’s abyss, with surrounding whites as pure as driven snow, caused my breath to hitch. As redneck as he appeared, there was something underneath a thin veneer of hurt that he hid behind. Like I said, so not my type.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “For your loss,” I added, unsure of how to respond to a man who didn’t seem like he would ever get near a gay person, let alone be one.
“Mark was a wonderful person,” Jill said. “And Hunt is like a brother to me now. Actually, he’s become my brother.”
“I see you’re not in a uniform, Jill. What do you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
