Page 2 of Hogging the Hunk

“Ah.” Beckett nodded at my lack of response, like she was some sort of sage. “I understand. This involves a secret.” I was about to refute her claims of my confidentiality when she held up a hand. I halted. Technically, Beckett wasn’t wrong—I was keeping this all very hushed. “It’s alright. Everyone should have at least one secret. I’ll allow that something about your visit to this particular aisle needs some privacy.”

Beckett’s self-restraint about my personal life gave me permission to relax. As the tense muscles in my shoulders eased, my mouth reacted with a close-lipped smile. “Thanks.”

“This can’t be any more embarrassing than the time we first met. Do you remember?”

Beckett was usually on the periphery of my existence in Button Blossom, though that didn’t mean she didn’t steal the show when she was around.

“Sure. I have an excellent memory. What was so mortifying about it?”

“Not for you. For me. Think about the details of what I was wearing.”

My brain mistook Beckett’s prompting as clearance to replay the memory. I was at her family’s farm, which her older sister, Maren, had recently taken over operating, when Beckett had wandered outside. It was late morning, her hair was mussed from sleep, and Beckett was still in a nightgown. The hemline hung a few inches above her knees, and she had walked barefoot outside to get some eggs for breakfast fresh out of the coop. I was hustling to help one of Maren’s goats deliver a set of triplets when Beckett, bleary-eyed and yawning, walked straight into my chest. She bounced off me like a racquetball against the wall. If I hadn’t caught her by the arms, who knows how she would have fallen.

I set the package of pads back down and folded my arms. “What was so embarrassing about what you wore?”

“Think hard. What was it.”

“You were barefoot in a nightgown.”

“Not any old nightgown.”

I squinted. “It was lime green, and it had a picture of a cartoon horse printed on it. It was wearing a nightcap, too, if I’m remembering right.”

“The cherry on top was the, I’m Pooped, in bold type.”

“Oh, yeah.” Stifling a snort, I pressed a fist under my nose. The boy within also enjoyed a good bowel movement pun. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Beckett splayed her arms, challenging my dismissal. “Anyone who wears a horrible pun on their clothes the first time they meet someone is setting themselves up for a poor first impression.”

“I thought it was funny. I get a lot of jokes about manure. You know… because of my job.”

Covering her face with a hand, Beckett peeked at me between her fingers as she tried to smother her glowing blush. “If I was seven, it would have been fine. I was already in college then.”

I shrugged. “It could have been worse. At least you weren’t wearing a lacy, black nightgown that—”

My brain clamped my teeth down on my tongue to stop my self-annihilation. I was already a man in forbidden territory, flanked by hundreds of packages of feminine products. Sexy lingerie was where I took it?

Don’t you dare imagine Beckett in lingerie. Don’t do it. Don’t you dare imagine—

Too late.

I swallowed, trying to extinguish the flames of embarrassment manifesting on my cheeks. The only merciful consolation to my abject horror was that Beckett couldn’t see into my thoughts.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I promise I’m not a creep.”

“Uh huh.” Beckett rested her hands on her hips, though she couldn’t tamp down the amused twinkle in her eyes. The color always reminded me of Bachelor Buttons that blossomed everywhere in the summer. “That’s exactly what an unsettled man would say.”

The more she teased, the more flustered it made me. Lowering my voice, I glanced at the end of the aisle, wondering how long until someone else discovered me. “Sorry. I think I’m nervous.” Then, I amended, “I am nervous.”

Why did Beckett bring out my utter honesty? Usually, people used me for free therapy while I doctored their animals, not the other way around.

With her usual graciousness, Beckett laughed at my off-kilter humor while I scrambled to change the subject. Prolapsed eyes, parasites… anything would be better than where I’d taken the conversation.

“Understandable. So, I take it you’re not here for fun?”

“Research.” My deadpan was masterful. “I’ve found infant diapers and duct tape useful when treating equine hoof abscesses. Naturally, I’ve always been curious about what’s in this aisle. Maybe I’ll cure listeriosis in sheep with something I discover.”

It was an attempt to joke to throw her off my trail. The reasons I had found myself here were… complicated. Very few people in Button Blossom knew about the upcoming change in my personal life. I had been a single father for years, though Ellie, my daughter, had lived with her mother a majority of the time. It had worked best that way. Now, having endured an unthinkable course change in her life, Ellie wanted to come live with me. Hoping the transition would be easy, for now, I wanted to keep her moving to Button Blossom low key. Not for me. For Ellie. Life had been complex enough for her. I wanted to spare her the limelight from any town gossip, especially for anything as sensitive as growing up and going through puberty.

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