Page 56 of Hogging the Hunk

Preacher was about to retort when Asher gave a mighty tug on his fishing pole, sending a monstrous large-mouthed bass airborne. Flying over the boat it struggled magnificently, its shiny scales glinting in the sunlight as it flew.

Its powerful fin slapped the jewelry box right out of Preacher’s hand before he knew what’d happened. It flew into the water with a tiny splash.

The whole boat went silent, and we all stared in disbelief at the spot where the ring box had disappeared.

“Whoops.” Asher cringed. “Was that my fault?”

“No.” Preacher looked like he was going to be seasick. “I blame the fish.”

“Don’t worry, Asher.” Clint put his arm around Preacher again, grabbing his shoulder and giving him a good shake. “Preacher’s kind of like your dad, and has enough money from his career as a pro football player that he can buy another ring. No problem.”

Weakly, Preacher shook his head. “Not that one. It belonged to my great-grandmother.”

“Oh.” Clint’s arm slid off Preacher’s back. “Well, that sucks.”

This was all so crazy. All of it—from the flopping fish’s impeccably horrible aim to the spark of hope I had for regaining Beckett. The longer I considered how I’d win her back, the firmer my confidence became.

“Think search and rescue would help us out?” Preacher asked, looking at Clint. “The area has a volunteer dive unit, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, there is,” Clint said. “Maybe if you promise to autograph a bunch of stuff for them, they’d consider helping you out.”

Reeling in my line, I stripped off my shirt and left my shoes next to my seat. Without explanation, I dove into the lake, plunging deep near where I estimated the ring box had sunk. The water was crisp, not having warmed up after the winter thaw. The shock was a welcome slap to my senses, and everything became crystal clear. As I searched for Preacher’s ring, there was one thought that dominated my mind—I couldn’t wait to tell Beckett about this.

I couldn’t wait to talk to Beckett, period. If she wanted to ramble about the blessing of the invention of modern vaccines, I’d stroke her hair and listen all day. If she wanted to sit in silence, so be it. If Beckett needed to yell at me to get it out of her system, I’d gladly endure it. It didn’t matter what we did or said or didn’t say so long as I was with her. The sooner the better.

I knew my luck was changing when I reached the rocky bottom of the lake and almost immediately found Preacher’s ring box.

Breaking the surface, in my absence, everyone had leaned over the side, holding their breath with eager anticipation. Panting as I tread water, I let Preacher sweat for a moment before bringing the velvety box he was so desperate for above the surface.

The second he saw what was in my hand, he looked like he’d pass out from relief. “Oh, sweet mercy. Thank you.”

I tossed the ring to him and he caught it, holding it close to his chest like I’d thrown his beating heart to him. “No problem.”

Instead of crawling back in the boat, I set my sights on the shoreline. I made it several strokes away before anyone called after me.

“Where are you going, dummy?” Parker shouted. “The boat’s this way.”

Gliding on my back, still kicking furiously to the shore, I called back. “I have a woman to win over.”

Chapter Seventeen

Beckett

My eyes were closed, but my curtains and eyelids weren’t enough to block out the light. It had to be close to ten in the morning, guessing by the tilt of the light through my windows and the sound of happy spring birds calling from the fragrant lilac bushes below.

Becky’s obnoxious bellow spurred my eyes open. I was temporarily disoriented, remembering that I was back in Button Blossom, not the Solomon Islands where I’d been both serving the community there and running from Milo. I had lied to myself, justifying that the sudden trip would also give me time to think. Mostly, it was an excuse to abandon the heartbreak that I was afraid would haunt me in Button Blossom, should I stay.

Who’s to say that would have even happened? I hadn’t given Milo an honest chance to prove otherwise. Then, it was guilt that made me reluctant to return. What if he didn’t forgive others any easier than he did himself?

I didn’t resist when I pictured Milo. Everything from his sweet brown eyes to his strapping shoulders and thick, strong fingers came flooding back to me. I knew it would. In Button Blossom, there was no escaping everything I’d run off to the Solomon Islands to forget.

I looked at the clock. Four thirty-seven PM? Jet lag had put me way off. My plane had landed after midnight at the Indy airport, and bless Maren and Parker, they were there to meet me. I dozed during the car ride home, and had intended on a few extra hours of sleep as a reward for my day-long navigation of planes and airports, finding my way to my sleepy hometown. Apparently, I’d needed much more sleep, and now, nearly the entire day was gone.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled across the hall for a much-needed shower. I’d run out of deodorant sometime in the final weeks of my philanthropic medical trip and had paid dearly. All the travel had not done my armpits any favors, either.

With my body squeaky clean, in a pair of jeans and a comfy cotton t-shirt that proclaimed my love of naps and reading, I yawned as I traipsed downstairs. Granny was in her recliner, the TV turned on to a laughably dramatic soap opera. It took all of two seconds to figure out the dark-haired woman was plotting against the blonde, who was in love with whom she thought was the gardener, but was actually an in-disguise billionaire with a penchant for botany.

“When are you going to give up watching soap operas?” I asked, leaning my elbows on the back of the couch.

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