Wrangling His Sexy Assistant: Beckett Brothers Book Two

by North, Leslie

  Now it was four-thirty in the morning, and everything was still, in that moment of pause between darkness and dawn. The creatures of the nighttime were receding, going to sleep, while the harbingers of the morning were beginning to wake, ruffling feathers, stretching legs, opening eyes.

  He sat for a moment, looking into the blue-black around Mrs. Hampton’s little house just outside of town. His phone chimed, and he picked it up to find a text from his brother Scout. Four-thirty was wake-up time at the dairy farm Scout ran.

  When you wake up I need you to take a look at a few of our chickens. Thinking maybe we have some egg drop syndrome going on.

  Well, hell, Hunter thought, closing his eyes for a moment. Might as well head out there now. He cranked the engine and shifted into drive. It was the third time this week he’d been out most of the night on calls. Eventually, he was going to have to catch up on his sleep, but as long as the county was full of animals and his brothers were his brothers, he’d be driving from farm to ranch to house to office and back again.

  Because Hunter had responsibilities, and he was a very responsible guy.

  * * *

  Kit was awakened by her phone.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said, sitting up in bed and trying not to sound as though she’d been dead asleep at nine a.m. on a Saturday.

  “Hey, Kit Kat,” her dad answered cheerfully. “You still in bed?”

  “Um, yeah. I’m going out to vaccinate some sheep in a while, but I didn’t need to be in the office this morning. The vet tech is having a shot clinic.”

  “Sheep vaccines?” Her dad scoffed. “Sounds like a lot of bleating and wool.”

  She rolled her eyes, glad he couldn’t see her.

  “So what did you need, Dad?”

  “I’m filling out the paperwork for your mother’s insurance, and I wondered when exactly you’ll be able to get back here? I need to calculate how much homecare help we’ll need for the next few months. Once I know your schedule to take over the business, I can calculate how many hours I’ll be here at home with her, then supplement with the homecare.”

  Kit felt her lungs tighten incrementally.

  “You know I have another ten weeks of my residency.”

  “Of course, but when will you be back here, and how long do you think you’ll need to get up and running so I can start staying home with your mom? If you hustle back as soon as you’re done there, I’m thinking we could have you comfortable with everything in a couple weeks, and I could go to half time, then phase out entirely in another two weeks. I’ll always be able to come help if you need a substitute or there’s some sort of emergency, but I’m hoping you can take over after a month or so. What do you think?”

  Kit rubbed her eyes with her free hand and counted to ten. This residency was her last chance at freedom before she had to commit the rest of her life to practicing small animal medicine in the clinic that had been her father’s dream, never hers. All she wanted was to live in denial in Gopher Springs for a few weeks, get the experience she’d never be able to at her dad’s clinic, and dream about her sexy new boss. She knew it was all a fantasy, but reality would come soon enough without thinking about it a lot.

  “Yeah, Dad, that sounds fine, I guess.”

  “Good, then I can figure on being home full-time in about four months, give or take. Your mama is going to be so happy, Kit Kat. We’re really looking forward to this new arrangement.”

  Kit murmured her agreement and ended the call as quickly as possible. Then she grabbed her laptop, pulled up the most recent research on sheep and vaccinations, and started to prepare for the rest of her day.

  She knew it wasn’t really a date—not with her uber-serious boss who didn’t have time for dating—but it was her first chance to work with large animals, and she’d be damn sure she knew what she was doing.

  3

  Kit loved animals. She always had. Her father’s veterinary practice in Houston was all house pets—dogs, cats, the occasional hamster—and Kit loved those little darlings, but she also loved big animals. Horses. Cows. Sheep. Goats. And more than anything, Kit wanted to get credentialed in large-animal care. She knew she’d never be able to use it when she finally took over her father’s practice, but while she still had the freedom to choose her own path in life—the freedom that would end in a few months—she wanted to fulfill that dream.

  Thus far, however, her residency with Hunter Beckett had been a disappointment. She knew Hunter had never taken on a resident before, but Kit had done her research. Hunter had a thriving large-animal practice, was well-respected throughout the state, and his window for taking on a resident was closing. Once Ava mentioned him, Kit had pursued him aggressively, and when she’d just about given up hope, he’d called and agreed to be her residency supervisor.

  What she hadn’t counted on was Hunter leaving her in the office to take care of every Chihuahua and house cat in Gopher Springs while he went out and handled the farm animals. Until today, that had been the way the office ran.

  "You mind grabbing my bag?" Hunter asked as he lifted a large picnic basket out of the truck bed.

  They’d just pulled up in front of the Andersons’ sheep farm, and Hunter had the picnic provisions for their date as well as his supplies for vaccinating the flock. Kit hadn’t thought about it this way when she’d made the winning bid for the date, but she’d set up the perfect opportunity to get some big-animal experience.

  "Sure thing," she answered, pulling the big black suitcase out of the truck bed and following Hunter toward the barn.

  "Vaccinations first?" Hunter asked.

  "Okay," Kit replied, reminding herself that this wasn’t a real date, so she shouldn’t be staring at Hunter’s broad shoulders as he walked ahead of her.

  They set up in one of the indoor/outdoor stalls of the barn. Mr. Anderson and his teenage sons would stuff the sheep into what became essentially a chute, Hunter would hold the creature, Kit would jam the needle in, depress the plunger, then Hunter would smack the woolly bundle on the hindquarters to send it out the opposite end of the stall from where it had come in. By the time they were done, sixty-seven sheep were gathered in the corral outside the barn, all of them bleating in protest.

  Mr. Anderson, his boys, and two anxiety-ridden sheep dogs began herding the flock back out to the nearby pasture while Hunter cleaned up his equipment and packed it away.

  "You did great," he told Kit as she watched his efficient movements and competent hands. "That’s your first time with sheep?"

  "Yes, but I read up ahead of time. I wanted to make sure I was actually helpful."

  He nodded and gave her a quick smile. "But your father’s practice is small animals, right?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "Well, it’ll be a lot easier giving vaccines to Goldendoodles than to these guys, although some of the doodles I’ve seen have fur that’s almost as thick as a sheep’s."

  Kit didn’t answer, although the idea of spending the rest of her career vaccinating Goldendoodles sounded like a slow form of death. She followed Hunter to the truck, then on to the picnic table that sat in the sheep pasture.

  Hunter opened up the big basket and shook his head. "So, Ava showed up this morning with this whole thing…" He pulled out a red and white checkered tablecloth and looked at Kit warily.

  She laughed. "It’s okay, we both know it’s not a date. But I’m really hungry, so you can’t deny me the food."

  Hunter’s shoulders relaxed, and together, they set up the meal Ava had organized, complete with real dishes and flatware, along with a bottle of champagne.

  "Well," Hunter said, lifting his glass of champagne, "cheers to my resident for rescuing me and doing a bang-up job with the sheep."

  Kit smiled and took a sip of cold, bubbly tartness before digging into the fried chicken and rosemary potato salad on her plate.

  "So, tell me," Hunter began as a nearby sheep bleated and hopped sideways to avoid a stick on the ground. "Has it always been your plan to tak
e over your dad’s practice?"

  Kit idly stabbed at the last piece of potato on her plate. "Yes. It’s always been the plan." She saw that Hunter hadn’t missed her emphasis on the plan rather than her plan.

  He studied her for a moment. "So Dad wants to pass on his business, keep it all in the family."

  She gave him a wry smile. "Something like that." She sighed. She didn’t tell many people about her mother’s illness, but somehow she sensed Hunter wouldn’t be judgmental. "My dad has some extra responsibilities on his shoulders—he relies on me to help him with those."

  Hunter kept a steady gaze on her, and Kit shifted on the bench. His deep brown eyes were unwavering, kind of like the man himself.

  "My mother has multiple sclerosis," Kit admitted. "And it takes two of us to care for her. One of us to run the business and put food on the table, and the other to be with Mom, make sure she takes her meds, get her to therapy every day, handle her hospitalizations." She paused and looked out over the grass sprinkled with dandelions.

  "I was the one with Mom when I was growing up. She was diagnosed when I was ten, and since I’ve been at vet school, Dad’s been forced to get some paid help, but the plan has always been for me to take over the practice so he could take care of Mom."

  "It’s tough," Hunter said, his index finger barely touching hers on top of the concrete table, a whisper of contact for one fleeting moment. "Family is everything, and we have to take care of them, but sometimes it’s hard not to resent it, too."

  She nodded, a rush of relief leaving her that he understood so easily, so immediately.

  "You take care of your brothers, don’t you?" she asked.

  He chuckled. "I’ve been known to keep tabs on them both. A little lecture here or there, sometimes. Not that either of them listens to me, you understand."

  They both laughed then, and the bright day grew a little brighter, the warm sun a little warmer, and Kit’s opinion of Hunter more than a little friendlier.

  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 ai
r 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 for a moment, trying to ignore a flood of guilt.