Page 34 of Plentywood
“I’m sorry about Mark,” I said, dropping my eyes. The pain in his was almost too much to bear. A macabre thought entered my mind. I wondered if anyone would miss me if I suddenly died. This man was obviously consumed with grief, so I knew how much his lost love must’ve meant to him. “Agnes told me his name,” I revealed.
“Of course she did,” he chuckled. “Agnes Brewster is this town’s newspaper.”
“I thought you already had a paper,” I joked, searching the room for Agnes. Hunt didn’t reply. “Seems my picture ran a couple of weeks in a row before I arrived,” I added, slightly embarrassed I’d brought it up now that he remained silent. “Put me at a slight disadvantage the day I showed up at a full clinic.”
“Your picture is why the clinic was so swamped, doc.”
“Ben,” I corrected, wanting him to see me as a real person for some reason.
“Ben it is,” he said, smiling and revealing incredible teeth. Hunter Copeland had actually smiled at me. A first, I thought. He leaned closer. “We were all so… so…” he couldn’t finish his sentence.
“You were all so what?” I asked, encouraging him to finish.
“Your picture was just so handsome,” he said, clearing his throat and looking away. “Everyone thought so, too.”
“Well, in that case, everyone is being kind.”
“I thought so as well.”
Oh fuck!
The song ended and Jill headed our way, interrupting what I thought was the beginning of something with the handsome sheriff. “You’re up next,” Jill said, sliding her hand into the crook of his arm. She turned to me and smiled. “You’re simply going to die when you hear this man sing,” she said, reaching out and touching my arm.
Jill was a warm person. You could instantly tell why she was everyone’s sister, everyone’s… something. I was drawn to her immediately, and I didn’t have the familiarity of a female friend. Well, honestly, if I were to admit the sad truth of it all, I didn’t haveanyfriends.
“You sing?” I asked, turning to Hunt. By then he’d blushed and swiped at his forehead where a few tiny beads of perspiration had settled. Maybe he was just as nervous talking to me as I was talking to him.
“And he plays the guitar. A regular star in this town,” Jill bragged, squeezing his arm and fixing her admiration on him.
She loved this man, and it was as obvious as the nose on his face. I didn’t feel a creepy vibe about her affection either. It was simple and actually beautiful to witness. I could only wish another human looked at me the way she looked at her former brother-in-law.
“She’s partial,” he remarked. “Biased, too,” he added, kissing the side of her head when she leaned in.
My eyes were locked on the man in front of me. The Sheriff was way more of a man than I’d given him credit for at first sight. His goodness was so obvious that I felt shitty about my original opinion and how I’d acted at the diner.
Hunt oozed a subtle kindness and protectiveness over Jill, and I’m not going to lie, I was a tiny bit jealous of their relationship. Shockingly, I wanted him to make me feel the way I knew she had to feel. This was a good man.
Someone tapped on a microphone sitting on a small stage from across the dance floor. A friendly voice came live over the sound system. “Alrighty, folks. I know you’ve all been waiting for me to call his name out.” The crowd went ape-shit, and the announcer hadn’t even identified the person he was referring to. “Your very own sheriff. Hunt Copeland!” he yelled.
The place erupted, Hunt grinning and waving his hand in embarrassment, doing his best to show his humility. Jill leaned into me. “Get ready, doc.”
I watched as Hunt made his way to the stage, the crowd still on their feet and shouting as loud as they could. His backside was stunning as he walked to the stage, and his stride literally made my gay senses go weak. He was total man. Actually, that wouldn’t suffice as a descriptor. He wastheman. His Wranglers hugged his ass cheeks to perfection. An old saying I’d heard somewhere popped into my mind.Wrangler butts drive me nuts. That they did.
I actually giggled as I watched him walk to the stage. I was the schoolgirl whose panties were damp at the sight of him moving through the crowd, people parting and touching him as he went by. Who the fuck was this man?
“Thank you, everybody,” he began, chuckling at the crowd and still grinning like a Cheshire cat. He grabbed a guitar that had been leaning on a stool near the mic and strummed it a few times, adjusting the tuning sounds that only he could hear.
He waited for the crowd to calm down. “One of your faves,” he said, adjusting the mic stand to his height. “And this one’s for our new town doctor, Ben.”
Charlie came to my side, but I was so transfixed by the Sheriff that I barely acknowledged his presence. However, when I did turn toward him, I noticed a haunted look on his face. He stared directly at the stage and a sadness I hadn’t detected before that moment was clearly evident. Like me, he couldn’t take his eyes off Hunt either.
The first chords from the guitar gave away the recognizable classic rock hit, ‘Hotel California,’ by the Eagles. Don Henley sounded incredible when he sang the original. Hunt began to play, watching all of us, a serious and distant look on his face; like he was remembering someone or something.
The crowd quieted down. Jill squeezed my hand. I hadn’t even remembered she was still standing on one side of me or holding my hand. Charlie on the other. The warmth of her hand holding mine sent love straight to my heart. There was no other way to explain it.
After a beautiful guitar entry, Hunt began to sing. “On a dark desert…” His voice was a wonderful tenor of masculinity. His eyes took each and every one of us on his journey as he swept us away with his voice.
Jill reached for my face, swiping at a tear I hadn’t felt release from my eye. My heart ached in a way I simply did not recognize. It hurt, but not a typical sad hurt. It hurt because I wished he was singing to me.
