Page 51 of Hogging the Hunk

Hey.

I had to reread it a dozen times for it to sink in. It was from Greg. One word was all he’d sent after weeks of nothing. Granted, his phone didn’t always function when he was in the remotest spots on the planet, but he could have tried a little harder to make contact. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, was another favorite of Granny’s.

I stared at my phone as a new conversation bubble rippled while he typed out something else. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. What on earth did Greg possibly have to ask me?.

I’m back in town. Dinner?

My stomach swooped. It was impossible for me to distinguish the feeling of dread from elation—they both made me nauseated when they came on too quickly. I had to turn to my heart to be the tiebreaker. There was nothing. No pitter patter of joy that Greg had contacted me. No leap of excitement that he wanted to have dinner with me. All I could muster for Greg was indifference.

Was Milo the reason for the shift? Or had it all been a product of my growth, accepting that I would never live up to Greg’s expectations for me?

The front door flew open, and I snapped my head up. Milo sported a comfortable pair of jeans, a t-shirt that draped over his muscular frame. The signature half-hitch smile was what really did it for me.

Milo definitely was the catalyst to my change of heart.

“You coming in or are you already a human popsicle?” he asked amusedly.

My phone was back in my pocket and was forgotten before I even thought about answering Greg. He’d made me wait for weeks. It wouldn’t kill him if he had to wonder what I was doing for a few hours.

“It’s cold enough out here, isn’t it?” Stomping the powdery snow off my faux fur-lined boots, I let Milo help me inside.

He lifted my bag of offerings out of my arms, bumping the door shut behind me with a tap of his foot. “I’m sure we could figure out a way to warm you up quickly.”

I looked up at him. Milo was flirting with me—overtly—and with his daughter in the next room. He’d kept his voice at a whisper and it was unlikely Ellie could hear me over the garbage disposal, where she was scraping ruined cookies off the pan and into the sink.

But still.

I stammered as Milo slid my coat off and hung it up for me. “Are you sure Ellie doesn’t mind me coming over?”

His eyes flashed in her direction. “After seeing how truly horrific I am at baking, she conceded we needed some help. You’re our only hope.”

“Did you try searching for videos or using different recipes?”

Milo’s hand found the small of my back, and he gently ushered me toward the kitchen. The feel of his touch gave me the courage I needed to wander into the heart of the house where Ellie was waiting. “I’m about to go broke if we don’t get this right, and my daughter still lives under the delusion that I’m mostly perfect. I’d like to keep it that way. Plus, it was her suggestion that we call you.”

“It was?”

“Yeah.” He snagged my elbow and whispered into my ear. Tingles of delight trickled down my spine and I shivered. “She doesn’t hate you, Beckett. Ellie just has a lot to figure out. We all do.”

I nodded. Life was nothing if not complicated, and if I were in Ellie’s position, I doubted I’d be able to handle the changes she’d faced with half her grace.

Walking into the kitchen, I kept to the outer boundaries of the room to give Ellie her space. She wasn’t a wild animal, but after the hot chocolate she’d spilled on me to keep me from kissing her father, I knew she had some bite to her.

“Hi, Ellie. How’s it going?” I asked with a bright smile.

“Crappy.” She sunk the baking sheet into a pan of sudsy water. Fluffs of bubbles launched into the air and splattered the floor. Truffle trotted over and wriggled her tail, taste-testing one. She was quickly disappointed. “Cookies shouldn’t be so hard to make.”

“They can be tricky. Once you get a hang of them, they’re not so bad. Cookie baking is something I think everyone should have in their arsenal.”

“That seems dangerous.” Milo took a seat on a barstool. The way he casually looped one foot on the lower rung and rested an elbow on the island made him look magazine cover ready. The man could wear a filthy pair of his veterinarian coveralls and never fail to appear gorgeous. “Having leftover cookies all over the counter isn’t a good idea.”

“Leftover cookies? Surely that’s an oxymoron,” I said, cracking up at my joke. Ellie snorted, too, and it bolstered my confidence that at least she appreciated my humor. “We almost never have spare cookies at my house when we’re done baking.”

“That’s probably because you live with Granny who has a sweet tooth the size of Texas,” Milo suggested.

“True.” Deciding I’d never make friends with Ellie if I didn’t try, I drew closer to the sink and stuck my hands in the warm suds. Finding a scrubby pad, I went to work on the pan. “Granny says leftover cookies are merely treats that haven’t been eaten yet. You can always give them away, too. No one’s ever had a hard time giving away cookies.”

“They would if they were any of ours,” Ellie muttered sullenly.

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