Beckett Brothers: The Complete Series Page 13

  Her happy vision of a future friendship with Hunter was cut short when she walked into his office and was met with nothing more than a glance and a grunt.

  "Hi," she said, her entire mood deflating with one word. "I, uh, came to see how you want the afternoon to work?" Dammit, she hated women who ended every sentence as if there were a question mark. She was stronger than that, smarter too.

  Hunter continued alternating his gaze between the computer screen and a notepad, pausing occasionally to cross items off on the paper.

  "You did all the puppies this morning?" he asked, still avoiding her gaze.

  "Yep." She was now moving past the deflated stage into the angry stage. He wasn’t seriously going to punish her for a kiss he initiated?

  "Well, we can both take office visits this afternoon, and you can assist with a hip replacement I’m doing on an elderly German shepherd."

  She blinked in surprise. Really? He was going to let her help with a surgery? But why was he so angry about it?

  Her hand moved to her hair. Her soft, bouncy, sunny hair. It was good hair. She was having a good day, and she was going to assist with a surgery. To hell with Hunter Beckett and whatever was up his butt.

  "I appreciate the opportunity to help with the hip replacement," she began, walking the rest of the way into the room and sitting in one of the chairs facing Hunter’s desk. She heard him make a small sound. If she’d had to name it, she’d have said it sounded like despair. "But I’m wondering if we need to talk about what happened Saturday."

  Hunter finally looked up, his gaze locking on hers as his brow furrowed. "We do not," he said bluntly.

  "Then why are you so…" she waved her hand up and down in front of her as if Hunter was a prize on The Price Is Right.

  He sighed, tossed his pen onto the desk, and leaned back in his big leather chair. He looked tired and frustrated, and dammit all, he was still sexy.

  "Okay," he conceded, "maybe we do need to talk about Saturday." He paused, looking out the window for a moment. Kit could hear the voices of people passing by on the street outside, and there was a faint odor of antiseptic, even back here, away from the exam rooms.

  "I shouldn’t—"

  "It wasn’t—"

  They both spoke at the same time, then they both laughed self-consciously.

  "Normally, I’d say ladies first," Hunter told her, "but I really need to get this out there."

  She nodded in agreement.

  "I should never have kissed you.” He sounded so earnest. “It was unprofessional and inappropriate. I’m very sorry, and I promise it won’t happen again."

  Kit tried to ignore the slight disappointment that wedged itself into her chest. Friends, she reminded herself. It would be great to be friends, and that’s all either of them had time for, anyway. She would be heading back to Houston to run her dad’s practice in a few months, and Hunter would be staying here in Gopher Springs. Friends was all this was ever going to be.

  "It’s okay," she answered. "We both got caught up in the excitement of the moment. Honestly, it was nothing."

  Hunter’s brow furrowed harder for a moment, then his expression cleared. "Well, that’s good to hear. I appreciate your understanding."

  "But I do hope…" She sat up a little straighter, smile in place. "I hope we can be friends? I mean, I know you’re my supervisor, but we haven’t really spent any time together until the other day, and I thought we made a good team—you know, work team, not the other."

  Hunter grinned then, and her heart nearly beat right out of her chest. "Well, I’d have to say we made a good team all the way around." He stopped, rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then shook his head. "Fuck. I didn’t just say that."

  Kit laughed then, long and hard, until Hunter was chuckling along with her.

  When they’d both released some of the tension, he leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands clasped in front of his lovely mouth. "But you’re right, we worked well together, and I think we can continue doing that. I spoke to Pete Marshall at A & M this morning."

  "Oh, Dr. Marshall was my favorite professor!" she exclaimed. "How is he?"

  "He’s riding my ass about the kind of training I’m giving you, and thus far he’s not impressed," Hunter answered.

  Kit tried not to grin. Praise be to Dr. Marshall. Maybe she’d get some large-animal training out of this after all.

  "I agree that I haven’t been the best supervisor, so I’m going to work on that. Starting tomorrow, we’re switching up the schedule so we’ll do surgeries on Mondays, office appointments every morning, and ranches and farms every afternoon. And you’ll assist in the surgeries and ride along on the visits. I’ve asked one of the vet techs to add an extra half day to her schedule so she can pick up the vaccines and well-checks."

  Kit’s eyes widened. "Really?" she asked, nearly vibrating out of her skin. "Surgeries and large animals? Every week?"

  Hunter nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Really. Lots of hours. Lots of experience. By the time you’re done, you should have enough hours for large animal cert along with small animal, and you will have logged about twice as many surgeries as most residents."

  "Thank you," she gushed. "Thank you so much."

  Hunter looked resigned—not unhappy, just resigned. "Sure thing. Pete Marshall wouldn’t accept anything less for you nor anything less from me. I owe him a lot, and you’re a good vet, Kit. You deserve a good residency."

  She nodded, so happy she could hardly contain it in Hunter’s dreary office.

  He looked down at the desk and picked up the pen to check off one more item on his list. "So you want to take exam one and I’ll take two? Then we’ll do the German shepherd at three o’clock."

  Hunter rose from his chair, and Kit followed his lead. As he walked around the desk and reached for the doorknob, something clicked in her head. "Wait. Isn’t Eunice McTeggert scheduled for exam one?"

  Hunter grinned as he gestured for her to go ahead out the door. "Yes, ma’am. You appear to be a female, so Barty the bulldog won’t be afraid of you."

  Kit narrowed her gaze at him, and he laughed as he followed her down the long hall. "I said I’d train you, but you’re still the resident. You gotta’ pay your dues."

  6

  Hunter paused outside the door to the little office he’d given Kit when she first started her residency. It was after seven p.m., and he thought she’d gone home at least an hour ago, but through the door, he could hear her voice, the pitch changing periodically, but the tension audible even through the layers of wood.

  "Yeah, Dad, I know, but this is the only chance I’ll have to…" Her voice faded again, and Hunter shamelessly leaned his head against the door.

  "I don’t know, I just find them fascinating. Their care is unique, and they have more day-to-day needs than small animals…Yes, of course I realize that…but I don’t want to cut my residency short. I know the cruise will be good for Mom, but she’s waited thirty some years. Surely she can wait a few more weeks? There’s another one the month after."

  Hunter frowned, tamping down the urge to open the door and take the phone from her hand. Kit’s father obviously needed a talking-to.

  Kit had handled the German shepherd’s operation nicely, asking good questions and helping with pre-op and post-op care without a complaint. She was going to be a great vet, of that Hunter had no doubt. No, the only thing he doubted was his own ability to stay professional around her. He’d had a taste of paradise, and now he wanted more. So much more.

  "Hi, Mom," Kit said on the other side of that very important door. "How are you today?"

  Hunter made a mental note to read up on multiple sclerosis. He wondered what kinds of symptoms Kit’s mother had. Was she in pain? Often in the hospital? What things worked for her? Exercise? Diet? Only medication?

  "I love you, too, Mom. And I’ll be back in just a few more weeks, but I want to get this training in large animals while I have the chance…Yes, I’ll call on Friday if you’ll promis
e me you’ll do your exercises every day this week…You know I love you, no matter what, but the doctors like you to keep them up daily. And make Dad do them too, you don’t want him to get fat."

  Hunter closed his eyes, the painted wood cold against his cheek. Poor woman. And poor, poor Kit. How had they managed when she was still a kid? Had they hired someone to help when her mother wasn’t able? At what point had Kit become the caretaker instead of the cared for?

  "There, see? I told you I could make you laugh. I know no one can do it like me. I’m your own personal stand-up act."

  Hunter’s chest contracted at the tone in Kit’s voice. So tender and caring. He realized that the family roles were truly reversed: Kit was the parent, and her mother the child. He remembered his own father’s final days, lying there dying of cancer. Even at the end, when his sons had needed to help him walk between the bed and the bathroom, he’d still been their father. He was their father to the moment he died. In charge, taking care of them and everything around them. To be without that, to become the parent to the person who’d given you life? Hunter couldn’t imagine it.

  "I love you, too, Dad, and I promise this will all be over soon…yeah, I know you’re proud of me…"

  Hunter jerked away from the door, suddenly ashamed that he’d intruded on Kit’s privacy. But as he walked down the hall to his own office, he couldn’t find it in him to regret what he’d learned. Kit was an amazing woman. In more ways than Hunter had ever dreamed.

  Kit was still fretting over the call with her parents when she unlocked the door to her apartment a block off Main Street. She’d gotten a great deal on a little unit that sat over a widow’s garage, just a few blocks from Hunter’s office, and near all the businesses she used regularly—pharmacy, grocery store, Liquor Bonanza. The thought of liquor coupled with her parents made her think she should have hit Liquor Bonanza before she made it home.

  She swung the door open just as a flash of headlights spun across her walls. She turned to look at the driveway below her and smiled when Ava and Mary Beth, the housekeeper at Bran’s ranch, climbed out of a car.

  Mary Beth carried a bottle of wine, and Ava did a little dance.

  "She’s home, she’s home!" Ava called.

  "Just barely," Kit replied. "C’mon up."

  After all three women were inside the tidy apartment and Kit had supplied a corkscrew and glasses, they sat down on the overstuffed sofa, poured the wine, and raised their glasses.

  "Here’s to the beginning of another week," Ava said.

  "Cheers!" Kit and Mary Beth echoed.

  After a long, slow sip, Kit looked at her friends. "So, to what do I owe this visit?"

  Ava and Mary Beth exchanged a look. "Uh, you never told us about the date," Ava said. She might as well have followed it up with "duh."

  Kit took another very long sip of wine. Some might have accused her of stalling. They would have been right.

  "We vaccinated sheep," she said, a little too brightly. "Then we ate lunch. Then we helped with a foaling." She smiled like a maniacal chipmunk and hoped that would be enough.

  "Huh-uh," Mary Beth said, shaking her head. "That’s not gonna’ do it, girlfriend."

  Kit sank into the cushions of the sofa. "We had fried chicken for lunch?" Her voice sounded smaller, less confident.

  Ava narrowed her gaze and pursed her lips.

  Kit sighed. "Fine. We worked really well together with the sheep, we laughed and had a great time at lunch, and after the foal was born, I threw myself at him and he kissed me."

  "I knew it!" Ava pumped a fist in the air in triumph, while Mary Beth whistled.

  "Stop, stop," Kit interrupted as the other two women clinked their wine glasses together. "It’s not like that."

  "Oh?" Mary Beth winked at Ava. "What is it like?"

  Kit’s mind flashed to the Andersons’ barn, Hunter’s big warm body enveloping hers, his hands gliding over her skin, lips tasting her as if she were fine whiskey. Then she looked up at Ava and Mary Beth’s expectant faces.

  "It was great—like really great…" She felt her face flush. "But it was a mistake, and we won’t be making it again."

  "Damn," Mary Beth muttered, "your kiss was the most exciting thing to happen to me all month."

  "Why?" Ava asked gently. "Why was it a mistake?"

  Kit shifted to face the other two more fully and set her nearly empty glass on the painted wood coffee table. "He’s my boss—"

  Ava scoffed. "Don’t get me started on that whole thing."

  Kit gazed at her indulgently. "But, he’s my residency supervisor. I’m not sure if there’s some rule against it, but it seems…tacky. Plus my favorite professor in vet school was apparently Hunter’s favorite, too, and Dr. Marshall called him up and told him he has all these expectations of what Hunter will teach me."

  "Well, old Dr. Marshall might not know that Hunter’s been teaching you the best stuff already." Mary Beth giggled at her own joke, and Ava rolled her eyes.

  "But mostly, I’m going back to Houston as soon as this residency is done. Hunter lives here. I have a practice to run there. There’s no point in getting all mixed up with one another."

  "What about just for fun?" Ava asked. "I mean, you’re both consenting adults. If you agree it’s only temporary, you could squeeze in a lot of fun between now and the end of your residency."

  "Ooh, yes," Mary Beth cooed, holding up a hand. "I vote for that."

  Kit stood and made her way to the kitchen for another bottle of wine. "Y’all are a terrible influence, and Ava Beckett, am I right that you have a deadline on a book this week?"

  There, that ought to get them off her non-existent love life.

  Ava immediately buried her head in her arms and groaned in existential pain. "Nooo. Don’t say it. If you don’t say it, then it can’t be true," she wailed.

  Works every time, thought Kit. Now if only she could distract herself from the subject of Hunter so easily.

  7

  Hunter leaned down to grab his medical bag, and as he went to straighten, he found himself looking right at Kit’s very healthy chest. She always dressed appropriately for work—clothes that could withstand pet hair and other less-appealing things but that were professional and neat. Today, she had on a light denim button-up blouse with khaki pants and her Beckett Vet Clinic jacket over it all.

  But the damn blouse was fitted, following her every curve exactly. Three of the mother of pearl snaps were undone, and if she moved a certain way, Hunter caught flashes of red silk. It was enough to make a lesser man cry. As it was, Hunter, being the pillar of self-control, had merely spent the entire morning watching for any brief peek of silk or lace or creamy smooth skin, and he felt like a total pervert because of it.

  Now he was half bent over, a med bag in his hand, and he couldn’t manage to remember to stand up because, well, there were Kit’s breasts. He nearly groaned at his own stupidity.

  "Are you okay?" Kit asked from across the room where she was sorting pathology slides. "Did you hurt your back?" She started to move toward him, concern furrowing her brow.

  "No!" he snapped as he finally straightened. He rolled his shoulders a bit to loosen up as he stood. "No," he repeated in a lighter voice. "Everything’s great. So are you ready to go?"

  "Just let me grab my purse, and I’m all set," she chirped happily.

  Hunter felt a throb deep in a place he shouldn’t be focusing on right now. It had been over a week since their mistake in the Andersons’ barn, and Hunter could now say unequivocally—spending time with Kit Cowie was killing him. Bit by aroused bit, Hunter was being murdered by his unrequited lust.

  As they walked to his truck, he tried to focus on the visit they were about to make.

  "So my little brother, Scout, is the foreman out at Foster’s."

  "Really?" Kit asked as she buckled in and Hunter caught a flash of red lace. "If he’s working with cattle, why doesn’t he just share the ranch with Bran?"

  Hunter started up the b
ig diesel engine and rolled out of the parking lot, returning Nadine’s wave as that lady stood in front of the diner across the street, surveying her kingdom.

  "Well, you know, Bran has asked the same thing more than once, but he doesn’t understand the dynamic of being the youngest of three boys. Scout’s whole life was spent trying to catch up, trying to stand out, and trying to rate something that wasn’t handed down twice over.” Hunter flipped on the turn signal. “He doesn’t want to work for Bran, and I can respect that. Unfortunately, I think he got himself into a situation that’s not going to pan out."

  "Oh? What’s that?" Kit shifted and Hunter caught a whiff of lavender. Lord, he’d come to love that scent. He smelled lavender in his dreams sometimes. It was embarrassing.

  "Scout started working for the owner of this dairy operation because the old man indicated he might be willing to sell it to Scout when he retires. Only trouble is, it’s looking like he’s never going to retire."

  "Oh, no," Kit lamented. "Poor guy, that is disappointing."

  Hunter nodded as they hit the empty road to the farm, and he pushed on the gas pedal. "It is, but Scout’s a smart guy. I have faith he’ll figure it out, one way or another."

  Yes, thought Hunter as they rolled down County Road 3, Scout was smart. He’d never jeopardize his professional reputation chasing after a woman. If only Scout’s older brother were that smart.

  The cows were depressed. Or so it looked to Hunter as he stood with Scout and Kit, staring down one of the long aisles of the milking barn.

  "So the new equipment hasn’t worked with any of them?" he asked.

  Scout scowled. "Nope. I’ve tried it three days in a row, then had to bring back in all the old equipment each time. It’s made milking last twice as long and screwed up the other work as a result. Not a one of my crew can get them to take to the damn things. And these new attachments were supposed to be the best of the new technology."