Beckett Brothers: The Complete Series

by Leslie North

  "Well, like I told you on the phone, I’m happy to take a look, but I’m not sure how much help I’ll be."

  They walked down the aisle where the cows faced out, and Hunter saw nothing but bored, morose cattle. Kit insisted on chucking each one under the chin as they passed.

  "I had them load up these seven so you can check it all out," Scout told them as he reached the last cow in the line and stood, arms crossed.

  In modern dairy operations, barns were built with a raised platform that housed the main aisle and the milking stalls. Cows faced that main aisle. At the back of their stalls lay another aisle, this one several feet lower than the stalls so that milkers were nose-to-rump with the cow and could attach and remove milking equipment without straining and bending.

  Hunter leaned down and looked to the back of one of the empty stalls. He saw one of his brother’s milkers waiting.

  "You ready for me to hook ‘em up?" the woman asked.

  "Whenever you are," Hunter answered. She gave him a thumbs-up and passed the word to the other milkers.

  A few minutes later, seven cows were lowing in distress as the brand-new and very expensive milking equipment was attached to their udders and the vacuums were turned on.

  Hunter and Kit followed Scout as he showed them the fit from the rear side of the cows, then took them back to the front where they were greeted with more lowing and complaints from Bossy and her besties.

  "They’re not happy," Hunter said, stating the more-than-obvious.

  "But you can see the equipment’s on right, we can get some milk out of 'em, but it’s not happy milk, and it’s not much."

  Hunter stroked the nearest cow and made soothing noises. She leaned into his hand, then lowed, long and pathetic.

  Kit walked up and down, talking to each cow, bending down to inspect the equipment between their legs.

  "What do you think?" he asked her. "Any great ideas?"

  She stood straight and approached the brothers, her expression showing her thoughts were focused on something the rest of them couldn’t see yet.

  "You said this equipment has a lighter suction than the older model?" she asked Scout.

  "Yeah, it’s supposed to be more comfortable for them, not less. The idea is that it fits more exactly and exerts the pressure in a precise spot so it’ll stimulate the milk release without so much suction."

  "I wonder if it’s just that it feels different to them and so that’s disconcerting," she suggested.

  "Well, that could be," Hunter agreed, "but what the hell do you do about it?"

  He saw her hesitate for a moment, but then she stood a little taller and continued. "I was reading a study in Large Animal Quarterly the other day…"

  Hunter nodded encouragingly. This was what he was here for, this was what Dr. Marshall wanted him to do—encourage Kit to be the vet she was well on the way to being. Help her gain the confidence and experience to do her thing, because her thing was going to be good. He could feel it.

  "It was a study about increasing milk production, but it might work to make them more comfortable in this situation, too."

  "Well, get on with it," Scout prompted impatiently. "Until I figure out how to solve this, the farm is out tens of thousands of dollars."

  Kit absently patted a cow on the nose. "Music," she said simply. "They discovered that playing certain types of classical music increased milk production by over four percent."

  Hunter nodded. He remembered skimming that article. He couldn’t possibly read every study that came across his desk, so he focused on the medical ones, but he often saw the titles and abstracts for others.

  "What kind of classical music?" Scout asked, wrinkling his nose to indicate if it wasn’t country, he wasn’t interested.

  "I’ll show you." Kit pulled her phone from her pocket and opened up her Spotify app. Soon a lilting concerto was floating through the air, and the nearest cows began to quiet down.

  Scout looked at Hunter, who raised an eyebrow in response. That was all it took.

  "Lonny!" Scout called to one of the milkers working below deck. “Get me that wireless speaker you guys use."

  Five minutes later, music filled the air around the cows, and the lowing had stopped. The milkers reattached the equipment and turned it on.

  "We got milk flowin’ like it should, boss," Lonny yelled from the lower deck.

  "Well, I’ll be damned," Scout murmured.

  Kit grinned from ear to ear, and Hunter nearly burst with pride.

  "That’s my girl," he turned his head to whisper.

  She wasn’t actually his, but Hunter sure felt like she was for that brief moment. And she wasn’t only gorgeous, she was smart as a whip and fun to boot. The trifecta of every man’s dream.

  And Hunter knew he’d be dreaming about Kit Cowie long after she’d left them all in the North Texas dust and headed back to Houston.

  8

  The decision to go to the Roadside Rancher after helping Scout’s cows had happened very naturally. Kit had mentioned she was hungry, Hunter had suggested they stop for some dinner, and now here they were.

  “I can’t wait to tell Dr. Marshall about your discovery today,” Hunter told her. He lifted his beer and toasted her before taking a sip. They’d sat at the bar in the busy honky-tonk, where they could also order food, and they’d both rotated their tall stools enough to face one another as they waited for their burgers. “He gave me a ration of grief when we talked for not taking on a resident sooner. Now you’ll make me look like a genius supervisor.” He grinned, and Kit’s heart went a little wiggly inside her chest.

  “Well,” she said, hoping he couldn’t see the flush she could feel in her cheeks. “Some supervisors wouldn’t have let me make that suggestion, so thank you.”

  Hunter scoffed. “Some supervisors are more worried about looking good in front of patients and staff than they are in fixing the animals’ troubles. I haven’t supervised someone before because I don’t have the time, and I’m not in the habit of doing things halfway, and not because I’m threatened by new expertise.”

  Kit believed him. Hunter wasn’t pretentious or insecure, he was steady, determined, and exacting—of himself more than others, even.

  “Well,” she said somewhat shyly, “I think you’re doing a great job so far. You might even want to reconsider supervising more often.”

  The waiter set their burgers down, and they both dug in, silently relishing the warm meal. When Kit finally came up for air, she saw Hunter staring at her.

  “Do I have food on my face?” she asked self-consciously.

  He shook his head as if trying to get rid of an annoying fly.

  “No, no, I was just thinking how much things have changed around the office in the short time you’ve been here.”

  “Hopefully for the better,” she muttered.

  He laughed and gave her hand a squeeze.

  After they’d each ordered another beer, Hunter leaned back in his seat and gave her an assessing look. “Tell me, you want all these large animal hours, but your dad’s practice is house pets. I know you find the big guys interesting, but what will you do with the certification? The practice is in Houston, right?”

  Kit sighed. She’d been asked this so many times by so many people. How could she possibly explain that she didn’t actually want to take over her dad’s practice? What she really wanted was to have her own clinic like Hunter’s. Somewhere she could see large animals every day, be an important part of a small community instead of simply one more overpriced vet practice in a huge city. But that wasn’t possible. Not unless her father sold his practice, and that had never been in the plans. And really, how ungrateful did you have to be to turn down a successful family business?

  “I haven’t mentioned this idea to my dad,” she began, watching for Hunter’s reaction, “but there are a lot of recreational horse farms on our side of Houston. I was thinking I could start promoting the practice to the riding stables and horse associations. It’d tak
e me forty-five minutes to reach most of those farms, but if I set aside one day a week to do it, I could get to several in one trip.”

  Hunter took a sip of his beer. “Well, that starts to make sense. Great idea.”

  Her chest warmed along with her face, and she couldn’t help the grin she gave him. “Really? So would you mind listening to some of the other ideas I’ve had about it, maybe give me your thoughts?”

  “Absolutely,” he answered. “I’d be honored.”

  The next hour flew by and turned Kit from somewhat unsure into an enthusiastic bundle of hope. Maybe she could make things work at her dad’s practice. Maybe all her training in large animals wouldn’t go to waste in Houston.

  “I can’t thank you enough for helping me solve all these problems,” she told him, realizing as she did that they’d moved ever closer to one another as the conversation progressed. Now his knee was touching the outside of her thigh. His hand rested on the back of her seat, brushing her shoulder as he leaned close to hear her. They were so near, she could see his long dark lashes and how the irises of his eyes weren’t just brown but gold and rust.

  An old Garth Brooks song came on, and she noticed the lights had dimmed as they’d been sitting there. The place had moved from daytime burger joint to nighttime pickup spot. Her stomach did a little flip, and suddenly she didn’t have any more words, just breath and hope and heat.

  “You know,” he said, his voice low and rough. “This is one of my favorite songs, and I’m thinking you could help me solve a problem…” He gestured behind them. “It’s out on the dance floor.”

  “We probably shouldn’t,” she suggested, even though she really wanted to.

  “This place is a long ways out of town, and I’ve yet to see a single person I know. It’s only one dance, right?” Serious, responsible Hunter winked, and Kit was lost. She put her hand in his and let him pull her toward the floor.

  He led her to a dark corner near the hallway that ran behind the stage and took her in his arms. As the soft ballad played on, they began to sway, and Kit knew she was in trouble. But it was such glorious trouble that she didn’t want to reconsider it, she didn’t want to be cautious and responsible. She wanted to feel like she’d felt when he’d kissed her in the Andersons’ barn. She wanted to be able to forget her obligations to her parents and the fact she was leaving Gopher Springs in only a matter of weeks. Right now, all Kit wanted to do was this.

  Hunter whispered the words to the song in her ear as he held her, his hands making patterns on her back and shoulders and hips. Soon she felt his breath on her neck, and then his lips. Her insides lit up like the Fourth of July, and she curved into his hold—tighter, closer, hotter.

  When the song ended, it only seemed natural that they’d moved into the small hallway where it was dark and private. He pressed her against the wall, and she felt the cool plaster on her back, then the hot pressure of his erection as he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her—gently at first, then more demanding—tasting, probing, asking for everything she was ready to give.

  “We shouldn’t,” she whispered, wanting to give him one last chance to get away before she did the inevitable and gave in entirely.

  “I know,” he rumbled back. “I just don’t give a damn.”

  “Thank God,” she replied, breathless. “Me, either.”

  Then words disappeared, and there was nothing but hands, lips, skin, and breath. She felt the fabric of her top lift as he slid his palm up along her stomach, hot, rough skin, questing fingers, electric shocks as he pinched her nipples. Shards of desire shot through her and she found herself grinding against his hard-on, the need so intense, she would have climbed him if she could.

  Hunter whispered in her ear, “You make me so hot,” and she gasped, wanting to feel that hot breath on her breasts, between her legs, in her mouth.

  She slid her palms inside his shirt, scratching at his back as he worked his hand into the front of her jeans and stroked the most magical spot a man had ever stroked.

  She moaned, which only spurred him on as he pressed and thrust and circled until she was about to crawl out of her skin.

  “God, you’re incredible,” he murmured before he plunged three fingers inside her. Everything in her swelled, cresting, suspended in a perfect moment of the most intense need she’d ever experienced, and then her core pulsed as she rocked against his hand, craving more and more, while he covered her mouth with his to quiet the cries of pleasure that erupted untamed.

  When her body finally tired to the point it couldn’t go on any longer, she melted against him, her arms around his neck, head on his shoulder. He slowly slid his hand out of her jeans and grasped her waist, his calloused skin rough against hers.

  “Oh my God,” she told him. “I’m not sure I can walk.”

  He chuckled and kissed her temple softly.

  They stood there, both breathing hard for a few more moments, and then he said what she’d hoped to avoid.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No,” she interrupted before he could go on. “We knew what we were doing. I may be your student, but I’m not a child.”

  He nodded, and then pulled away so he could look her in the eyes. “And you’re okay?”

  She gave him a slight smirk. “A lot better than okay.”

  He just looked at her seriously.

  Dammit. “Yes, I’m okay, and you’re right, we shouldn’t have done it.”

  “It’s not that I don’t think you’re…” He waved his hand up and down in front of her, then looked pointedly down at his very obvious erection, words having escaped him.

  “Super sexy?” she quipped.

  “Oh yeah, all that.”

  She sighed. “I know. And really, it’s fine. We shouldn’t have. We did. We can move on. I’m not going to report you or run crying to Ava.”

  She saw the look of relief that crossed his face and felt her heart shrivel.

  “Hey,” he grabbed her wrist as she moved to turn away from him. “This is hard for me—no pun intended—because I have no plans to get involved with anyone, and I respect my position and want to do a good job. But you’re amazing, and I’m having a difficult time keeping my hands off you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed as hell. “As I’ve just demonstrated.”

  Not only was he beautiful, sexy, smart, and kind, Hunter was also a stand-up guy. She needed to let him off the hook even though it killed her to do so.

  “It’s fine. Really.” She cupped his jaw with one hand. “I feel the same way, but regardless of the supervisor thing, you aren’t looking to get involved, and I’m not looking for a guy who lives hundreds of miles from Houston. This was just what it was, a nice interlude. I can handle it if you can.”

  He nodded with determination. “Of course. We had our fun, now we’ll get back to work.”

  “Exactly,” she echoed.

  But as Hunter drove away into the night after dropping her back at her apartment, Kit wondered if work would ever be the same again, no matter where she was or who she was with. Something had happened with Hunter in that dark hallway. He had touched her soul, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever get over that.

  9

  Kit tried not to stare as Ava kissed Bran goodbye in the driveway before he drove away. She could ignore that little twinge of jealousy. She was happy for her friend, she really was. Bran was a good man. He’d taken in Ava’s little boy and was raising Cam as his own. He’d given Ava support and encouragement to pursue her new job as a writer. He was everything she could have wished for Ava, and if anyone deserved the happily-ever-after, it was a woman who’d been widowed before she was thirty.

  But in spite of all that, Kit did feel some envy. And more than anything, she felt a strange emptiness inside, like there was a hole at her center, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fix it.

  “You ready to go?” Ava asked as she approached Kit’s car.

  “Let’s do it,” Kit replied, unlocking the car
doors.

  Twenty minutes later, the highway to Dallas was flat and dull, but Kit knew everything about the book Ava had just submitted to her editor. This day trip was Ava’s reward to herself for making the deadline—a shopping spree with Bran’s credit card and Kit’s company.

  “What are the boys doing while you’re gone all day?” Kit asked as she maneuvered around a semi-truck full of frozen food.

  “Bran’s taking Cam and Hunter to a small auction in Piperville. Cam doesn’t know it, but there are some Highland cattle there—the cute ones with the long fur—and he wants to buy Cam a calf and let him be in charge of raising it himself.”

  Kit wanted to wail with frustration. She repeated her mantra about not being jealous, but good lord, Bran and Ava were making it hard.

  “Could y’all get any cuter?” she asked Ava.

  Ava adjusted the volume on the stereo in Kit’s little Honda Civic. Kit smiled to herself. Ava had never liked Florida Georgia Line.

  “You could be just as cute if you’d give Hunter a chance,” said Ava casually, looking out the window at the scrub brush blurring by.

  “You know that’s not possible.”

  Ava turned to Kit, and Kit’s stomach dropped a little. Her friend had that look, the one she got when she was fixed on something. The one that meant she wasn’t going to drop this, no matter what. Ava was one of the most determined and intractable humans on the planet. Kit was doomed.

  “No,” she said, giving her dear friend a hard look.

  “Come on,” Ava cajoled. “You know you want to.”

  “But it’s not just about what I want. There’s what he wants—”

  “Pssh.” Ava flapped a hand in the air. “He doesn’t know what he wants. You have to tell him.”

  “A-va!” Kit stared with wide eyes. “That’s horrible.”