Beckett Brothers: The Complete Series Page 12

  For one brief moment, Kit forgot that she’d bid on her supervisor to spare him. For one brief moment, Kit Cowie felt as though she’d bid on a very handsome, very charming, very understanding man.

  Hunter looked across the table at his resident and felt something inside his chest pinch. Like the flutters the evening before, it was a very unwelcome sensation. But then she smiled, and he seemed to forget he was her supervisor, that she was leaving in two and a half months, that he didn’t have time for entanglements of any sort.

  No, when Kit smiled at him like that, all he could seem to do was smile right back. Like a complete fucking moron.

  Which was why when he heard Marty Anderson yelling bloody murder from the barn, he jumped—actually jumped—at the chance to get away from all that bedazzling beauty.

  "Come quick, Doc," Marty said breathlessly as he met Hunter midway between the barn and the pasture. "It’s Lillith, she’s been in labor all morning, and I didn’t even notice."

  Hunter sprinted into the barn, Kit hot on his heels. He pulled open the gate to the loose box and was met with a distressed mare. The huge black horse was down on the straw, lying on her side, legs sticking out stiffly, sides swollen and covered in sweat.

  Hunter began murmuring quietly as he moved into the stall. The horse’s eyes rolled back, showing the whites as she bared her teeth.

  "I was so caught up with the sheep, I didn’t even notice she’d gone down in here," Mr. Anderson said, scratching his head. "I got no idea how long she’s been foaling."

  Hunter knelt at the mare’s hindquarters and lifted her tail. There, a hoof and a few inches of leg jutted out, covered in the pale white sac that encased the foal in utero.

  "Well, looks like her water’s broken, but no sign of red bag, so that’s good.”

  Kit moved toward the opening to the box, and Hunter looked over his shoulder at her. "I don’t want you in here," he said quietly as he stroked the mare’s hindquarters. "Lillith is a pistol on a good day. Too many unfamiliar faces right now and she might make a fuss, hurt someone or herself or the foal."

  Kit crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. Well, damn. That had made her mad, but he didn’t have time to stroke her ego. Lillith was struggling, and he couldn’t be worried about both females at once.

  "Okay, girl," he said soothingly. "Let’s get you movin’ some, it’ll help. I promise." He eased himself along to the horse’s head and stroked it, even as she tried to nip at him. Then he pulled on her front leg. She tried to lunge at him and succeeded in rolling up some.

  "There you go," he encouraged. "Get angry, move around."

  The mare groaned and struggled for a moment before collapsing back onto her side. Hunter moved behind her, and she tried to kick him with her back legs as he went by. Once at her rear, he checked the foal once more.

  "We need to get those contractions going," he told Mr. Anderson. "Can you get me some bandages to wrap her tail?"

  Mr. Anderson nodded and went in search of the bandages.

  "So you need her to move?" Kit asked. Hunter pretended he didn’t see her edging her way into the box.

  "Yep. But she weighs a hell of a lot more than I do, so that’s a tall order."

  Kit inched along the wall of the box while Hunter checked the placement of the foal. When he looked up, Kit had managed to make her way to the mare’s head.

  "Kit," he said, his voice full of warning. "I’m telling you, this mare is a piece of work. Anderson loves her, but she’s never been fully broken. She has a vicious temper, and she only lets him ride her if she feels like it."

  "She’s not vicious," Kit said as she knelt next to the mare’s head. Hunter’s heart skipped a beat as the mare began to roll upright, bending her knees as if she might even try to stand. "She’s spirited, and that’s why she’s going to deliver this little baby just fine."

  The mare rolled partway onto her stomach and stretched her neck out toward Kit.

  "That’s a girl," Kit murmured as she let the horse sniff her hand.

  "There," Hunter whispered, realizing that Kit might be more help than harm after all. "Keep talking to her, she’s started a contraction."

  The mare’s eyes got wild, but Kit kept talking to her, moving from one angle to another, keeping the mare’s attention while her sides bulged and Hunter watched the progression of first one little hoof, then another.

  It took another thirty minutes, but between Kit’s encouragement and Hunter’s help, the foal’s head finally appeared. Mr. Anderson came and went twice—without bandages both times, finally getting called away to help his oldest son with a delivery.

  "Okay," Hunter said. "Now that I can get a-hold of the shoulders, I think we can get this baby out on the next big contraction."

  Kit smiled back and then started working on the mare. "Hey, Lillith, you’re going to have a baby to take care of soon. I want you to roll for me. Can you do that?"

  She gave a tug to the horse’s front leg, then tickled her nose. Lillith gave a groan and rolled. A contraction moved through her flanks, and Hunter pulled at the same time. The foal slid out, landing in the clean straw in a heap of birthing sac and awkwardly long limbs.

  "There you go," Hunter said with satisfaction.

  Kit leaped out of the way as Lillith moved to see her baby. Hunter quickly grabbed Kit’s arm, tugging her out the gate, leaving the mama and baby alone in the box.

  As the stall door closed behind them, Kit jumped up and down with excitement, then threw her arms around Hunter. "We did it!" she cried.

  Hunter wrapped his arms around Kit’s waist and squeezed as he laughed at her delight. He hadn’t felt so much joy at an animal’s birth since he’d first started in practice five years ago.

  "You were the one who got her in the right frame of mind," he said, pulling back so he could see Kit’s face.

  Her eyes were sparkling, and her smile was like the sun shining in a crystalline blue sky. Suddenly, everything around them stopped—sounds, movements, even the air in the barn seemed to come to a halt.

  Hunter couldn’t tear his gaze from hers, and he felt his breath coming faster, shorter, as if his lungs were constricted. Arousal pooled in his groin, and he heard her make a soft sound, like the sigh you’d make when you walked into your own home after weeks in cheap motels.

  Before he could stop himself, Hunter’s head lowered, and his lips found hers. He brushed against her once, twice, then moaned softly as he made full contact and her tongue darted out to taste him.

  She was all heat and softness, curves and lavender. Her mouth opened beneath his, and he feasted, devoured—tasting, savoring, memorizing. His hands moved up and down her hips, following the hourglass shape to her waist and back down again.

  Footsteps at the far end of the barn snapped him out of the sexual haze, and he released her, stepping back so suddenly, she nearly lost her balance. He steadied her with one hand and then looked behind them to where Mr. Anderson was coming toward them, a bucket of bandages in his hand.

  Hunter looked down at Kit, unsure what to say, but found her gaze had already left his.

  "Well," Mr. Anderson said as he approached. "I’m sorry about all that. How’s she doin’?”

  Hunter glanced at Kit, who had pasted on a bright smile directed at Mr. Anderson.

  "She’s just fine," she answered before Hunter could speak. "She got it done, and everyone’s fine."

  The next hour was spent cleaning up and checking out both Lillith and her foal. By the time everything was done, Kit had already gotten a ride back home with one of Mr. Anderson’s boys, and Hunter was left with the distinct impression he’d made a very big mistake.

  4

  "It’s good to talk to you, Dr. Marshall,” Hunter said as he held the phone to his ear on a Monday morning.

  “I was so happy to hear that Kit Cowie was doing her residency with you, Hunter. She was a great student.”

  “Well, she’s been doing a great job here as well.” Hunter squeezed his eyes shut f
or a moment, trying to ignore a flood of guilt.

  “Now, I know you haven’t had any residents before, so you’ll forgive an old teacher for lecturing at you.”

  “Of course. Let me have it.” Truly, Hunter thought. He deserved whatever Dr. Marshall threw at him. He was the worst residency supervisor in history.

  “Kit wants to get her credits in both large and small animals.”

  Hunter nodded even though Dr. Marshall couldn’t see him. He still didn’t understand why large animals were so important, but maybe Dr. Marshall knew something Hunter didn’t.

  “She’s a real natural with surgeries, so I want you to make sure she gets practice with…” At that point, Dr. Marshall launched into a list of surgeries a mile long—dogs, cats, horses, cattle. He even wanted Hunter to make sure she got experience with a canine disk fenestration, although how he was supposed to ensure a dog with disk disease walked through the door in the next three months, he really didn’t know.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll make sure she gets experience with those surgeries,” he said because it was simply easier and better to be agreeable at this point. “It’ll be a great addition to her resume. I’ll have her send you some pictures of it.”

  “Well, I’ll be looking forward to seeing them,” Dr. Marshall said. “I’m just tickled pink to have two of my favorite students working together.”

  Hunter looked to the ceiling as if he might find the inspiration he needed there to continue this farce. “Thanks so much, Doc Marshall. I’ll make sure Kit checks in with you to give you updates.” He twisted in his chair, hoping to find some inspiration in the photo of his brothers that sat on the bookshelves. “Good to talk to you. Bye now."

  Hunter set the phone down on his desk and rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. He’d been avoiding taking on a resident since he’d started his practice because he knew it would just be more work. But this year when Kit had contacted him, he’d known he might have to give in. Every vet in the state was required to supervise one resident every five years. The board had gone to the mandatory system when they’d run out of willing supervisors, and now it was part of the licensure requirements.

  As if supervising a sexy resident wasn’t punishment enough, he apparently also had to be accountable to his old professor at Texas A & M. Hunter had done a damn good job of keeping her tucked away in the office the first two weeks while he did the farm and ranch calls. What had happened at the sheep farm was proof of why that had been a good idea on his part. He’d gone and kissed the woman like she was the air he needed to live. It was hardly responsible supervisor behavior, and definitely not something he’d intended to do.

  The last thing he needed was a mess with a woman, resident or otherwise. He’d barely gotten his older brother Bran squared away with a full and happy life, and now he knew he had to focus on his younger brother, Scout. If it weren’t for Hunter, his brothers would have stopped talking to one another completely years ago. The fact was, Hunter was the only thing holding what was left of his family together.

  So here he was, with one too-sexy-for-her-own-damn-good resident, one completely forbidden kiss, one family with too many problems, and one mentor with high expectations of a residency supervisor.

  It was a small miracle Hunter didn’t just throw in the towel and start drinking even though it was nine a.m. on a Monday.

  Instead, he headed to his brother Bran’s ranch to check up on his nephew’s new pony that had a mild hoof infection. Cam and that little Shetland ought to help distract him some. There wasn’t anything cuter for miles than a little boy and a grumpy twenty-year-old pony.

  Except possibly a curvy blonde resident.

  An hour later, Hunter watched as Bran set Cam up on the pony and sent the two of them off around the corral. The pony’s hoof was fine, but he still walked slower than a half-frozen snail.

  "Ava’s disappointed you didn’t send Kit out," Bran said as the pony lumbered off with Cam bouncing lightly on its back in excitement. "She has a deadline for her book and was hoping for someone to distract her."

  Hunter laughed. "She was hoping for someone to gossip with, not that finding people to chat to has ever been a problem for her."

  Bran grinned. "That’s true, and the closer she is to a deadline, the chattier she gets."

  Hunter leaned his forearms on the top rail of the corral. "And if someone had told me a few years ago that you’d end up with such a Chatty Cathy, I’d have never believed them. All those years you kept everything out here so controlled and sterile. I’d have thought Ava and Cam and the constant chaos would do you in." Hunter tried to smother the smile that worked its way across his cheeks. He’d known Ava was the one for Bran from day one, but he’d never rub that fact in his brother’s face.

  Bran shook his head, thoughtful. "Nah. Once I realized how much they mean to me, I knew the changes were worth it. She gets me to try things I wouldn’t otherwise, and it’s only made my life better."

  "Well, you know I couldn’t be happier for you."

  The two men watched Cam and the pony for a moment, then Bran shifted, turning so he could face Hunter.

  "So, you ever going to tell me how the date went?"

  "It wasn’t a date," Hunter snapped a little too quickly.

  Bran just looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

  "It wasn’t. We went to the Andersons’ and vaccinated sheep. Then we ate some lunch, then that demon horse Lillith went into labor, and we delivered her foal. I can’t think of a day less date-like than that."

  Bran smirked. "You like her."

  Hunter resisted the urge to punch his brother. Bastard was old, after all. It wasn’t a fair fight. "What are we, twelve?"

  Bran persisted. "You know, my wife might accuse me of being an unfeeling jackass, but I’ve known you since the day you were born. You like Kit, and I don’t mean as a vet resident."

  Hunter sighed. Brothers. Who needed them? "Look, I’ll admit she’s attractive—"

  "And then some," Bran interrupted.

  Hunter glared at him. "But she’s also my resident—and, I’ve now discovered, the favorite student of my mentor, Dr. Marshall. It’s unethical to date your student. I’d disappoint a man I have a great deal of respect for, plus I don’t have time.” He stabbed a finger at Bran for emphasis. “I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m just not."

  "But." Bran stared hard at him, and Hunter crumbled just like he always had as a kid.

  "But I might have gotten carried away and kissed her after that damn horse finally foaled."

  "I knew it," Bran crowed in triumph, slapping his palm on the top rail.

  "What did you know?" Cam called from across the corral where the pony had stopped to eat from the feeder.

  "That Uncle Hunter is scared of ponies," Bran called back.

  Cam burst into laughter, "He is not, Dad, he’s a pony doctor. They can’t be 'fraid of their animals!"

  Hunter shook his head. "No," he muttered, "they’re just scared of their residents."

  Bran clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, I don’t think you need to be. Surely if you approached this like two adults, you could give it a go? Dr. Marshall doesn’t need to know unless it actually goes somewhere. Take her on a few dates. See what happens. You’ll recall that Ava was working for me when we got involved."

  Hunter scoffed. "Ava hung out here some and lived in my old bedroom. I have the state board watching over me, and I actually care about what Dr. Marshall thinks."

  Bran’s sympathetic gaze only served to irritate Hunter more. "I’m not going to date her—"

  "No risk, no reward," Bran taunted.

  Hunter flipped him off before climbing over the fence so he could go get the pony away from the feeder. Little thing was so fat already, he wouldn’t be able to roll out of the barn if he kept eating.

  "You ought to do it," Bran called behind him.

  Hell to the no, Hunter thought. What he ought to do is stay as far away from Kit as possible until her residency was d
one. But Dr. Marshall’s expectations were going to make that impossible. Two months and two weeks, he reminded himself. Just two months and two weeks.

  5

  Kit walked into the lobby of Hunter’s small veterinary clinic with a smile on her face and a bounce in her step.

  "Well, look at you," Hunter’s receptionist, Henrietta, exclaimed. "If that ain’t the prettiest haircut I’ve ever seen."

  Kit smiled and put a hand to her dark blonde hair. She hadn’t paid any attention to her hair during her four years of vet school, but for some reason today she’d decided to get it done—over her lunch hour, no less. She’d had them cut four inches off of it, add layers, and even do a few highlights. She had to admit, it felt good—she felt good.

  "Thank you, Henny," she said. "Is the doctor in?" she added, trying to ignore the little butterflies in her stomach. She didn’t start until nine a.m. on Mondays, and Hunter had been gone by the time she got in and set up the exam rooms for the day. She’d spent her morning doing new puppy exams, but she wasn’t sure if Hunter would be around to help for the afternoon or not.

  "He’s holed up in his office, and y’all got fifteen minutes until your next appointment."

  Kit nodded and set off for the back of the building where Hunter kept his private office. In the forty-eight hours since he’d kissed her, Kit had tried her darnedest not to think about it. And the harder she tried, the harder it was. Because that had been one spectacular kiss. Hunter Beckett might not date much, but he sure knew what he was doing.

  Afterward, it had been all Kit could do to keep from grabbing him and asking for a repeat. But she knew she’d look desperate, and also that Hunter would never have kissed her if she hadn’t thrown herself in his arms after the successful foaling. So she’d avoided looking at him and fled at the first opportunity, instead.

  But in spite of all that, in spite of the fact she knew there could never be a repeat, Kit had been walking on sunshine ever since. And maybe, she thought as she knocked lightly on Hunter’s office door, then twisted the knob, maybe they could be friends. That would be nice, she thought. She could always use a friendly colleague when she started attending the annual state vet conferences.