CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE Hunter

W hen I came out of the Sheriff's station and headed to my SUV, I noticed something on my windshield. I glanced at my watch. I'd arrived at the station at eight AM and it was now almost noon. Two minutes before, to be precise. I hadn't seen anyone near my rig during that time.

Is that a flower? A pang hit my heart hard. Mark used to leave flowers on my rig in different locations and at different times. How he continued to escape me catching him was the running joke between us back then. As impossible as my wish was, seeing a single red rose there now flooded my emotions in the hopes I had been stuck in a nightmare for two years. And that somehow he hadn't died.

I lifted the rose off of the windshield, a note wrapped around the stem. After unwrapping the note, it was revealed as a sheet of paper from a prescription pad. Hawthorne Clinic was the name at the top of the notepaper.

‘ Patient Hunter Copeland ' was handwritten below the clinic's name. ‘ Is hereby prescribed an apology from Dr. Hawthorne. Fill prescription at twelve noon at Jill's Diner. Side effects to be described by attending physician, ' finished the note.

I couldn't stop grinning. What were the odds that Ben would do such a personal thing that had been such a memorable part of my previous relationship? I glanced in the direction of the cemetery, wondering about the way life can be sometimes. Jennie's so-called vision. Someone like Ben appearing in Plentywood. The little coincidences and oddities that surround our daily existence.

"Mark?" I whispered. "Leave people alone, my love."

The diner's parking lot was empty when I pulled in. Mondays were slow, but this was ridiculous. The sign on the door read closed, but the front door was unlocked. This time of day was the lunch rush. Where was everyone? When I stepped into the diner, Ben was in the corner by himself.

"You're late, Sheriff Copeland," he said, standing and waiting for me.

"What is this?" I asked. "How'd you know I'd come?"

"What day do you not eat here?" he joked, motioning toward a chair across from him. "Well, that and Jill called you earlier about the lunch special. She did that for me. She said you never miss the meatloaf, sheriff. Or can I still call you Hunt?"

"I'd like it if you called me Hunt," I replied. "I'd like it a lot."

I sat down, setting my rarely worn cowboy hat on the chair next to me. "So that's why you get your hair buzzed, isn't it?" he asked.

"Maybe," I admitted. "That and hair gel is too expensive."

Ben gazed at me for a moment, perhaps deep in thought and unable to share just yet. "I'm sorry, Hunt," he whispered. "And I suck at this stuff. I'm just going to warn you ahead of time."

"Which part?" I asked. "The apologizing part, or the part where unfortunately you just got blindsided the other night, and I was the unlucky person with you when it happened?"

"You're really going to let me off that easy?"

"I do that when I like people, Ben. Can I still call you Ben?" I teased.

"I'd like it if you just called me. Period. Maybe ask me out on a date?"

"I could ask you right now if you'd like to get our food to go," I offered. "I have this favorite spot out by the lake to watch the ducks. I know that's a country thing to do, but it is a pretty sight."

"Would we be able to dip our feet in that lake you're talking about?" he asked, smiling in a way that absolutely melted my heart. Those brilliant eyes of his had me picking out china patterns. "I know you think I'm citified, but I'd like to learn a few new things while I'm in this town of yours, Hunt."

"How much time you got, doc?" I asked, playing along, but truly wondering.

"Well, sheriff," he began, grinning like he held a gigantic secret behind his lips. "Turns out I own over ten-thousand acres of land around these parts. Apparently, it has one of those ranch things on it, too. And, as it turns out, I also own a theater, a clinic, a childcare center, and a few other things that haven't been entirely explained to me. Oh, and a buttload of money."

"Is that so?"

"Apparently, it's a fact. All legal like and everything," he joked. "I'm thinking I need some time to get to know what my place in this little jewel of a town is exactly."

"We're a jewel now, huh?" I quipped. That was a far cry from his description the other night. This Ben was downright fun. Why ruin a good thing? "But weren't you already rich, Master?" I joked. "Leaning on us poor townsfolk with the strong arm of a slumlord?"

"Who knows?" he quipped. "I'm having my lawyer check to see if I own a tiny sliver of land south of town. Comes with a cute little house on it too. You know the one, right? That white house out on the highway. Maybe you've seen it? The one with the dead flowers all around the yard."

"You wouldn't," I huffed, listening to those tiny clicks from locks unlocking in my heart.

"I will if you don't show me those ducks, officer."

I fake sneered across at the man I really hadn't figured had a sense of humor. "I'm the Sheriff," I corrected. "The big guy. The main man."

"I have a thing for big guys," he admitted. "Especially a man in a uniform." He stuck his hand out toward me. "I'm the new doctor in town," he introduced. "Can we start again, Hunt?"

"I've got baggage, Ben," I shared, hoping not to ruin our playful dialogue. "Some shit I still need to unpack."

"I'll help you if you help me."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, doing my best to be the big guy I'd just professed to being. We sat and stared at one another. I'd been so incredibly hopeful at Jay and Jennie's the other night. And then so rejected afterward. But I felt an optimism about Ben Hawthorne after his sweet gesture with the rose and the prescription note.

"I get attached pretty easy," I admitted.

"That's okay. I've been known to be clingy," he said. "And usually that can be a problem when I fall for the wrong guy."

"Have you fallen for the wrong guy before?" I asked. "Asking for a friend," I added.

"That is a story for another day, fine sir. But I am single." Ben held his hand up like he was swearing an oath. "I swear, sheriff. Clingy but single. What do you think?"

I stood and turned in time to see Jill grinning through the window where food was passed when prepared. Our to-go bags were waiting. She was tearing up, which made my chest hurt. Could I do this? Could he?

"Why don't you tell me all about this clingy guy on the way to the lake?"

"It's a date," he agreed, motioning toward the exit.

The drive to the lake was fraught with nerves. From both of us. What had been a terrific rapport at the diner had become an SUV full of unspoken words. I didn't want to lose that connection but wasn't a master at the casual aspects of chatting. Especially since the questions I needed answered were the same ones I couldn't ask.

Finally. "How long have you been coming to this lake?" Ben asked, turning in the passenger seat to face me, stretching the seatbelt across his chest for comfort. "This will probably sound strange, but I don't think I've ever been to a lake. Well, there might be a lake in Central Park. I'm not sure."

I took a right off the highway and onto a bumpy gravel road. Half a mile later, we crossed a cattle guard on the road where a gate would normally be. "Those metal bars on the road are to keep cattle inside the fences," I offered, immediately regretting my choice of small talk. "Ranchers still need access to their land while keeping the cattle in, and the cows are too dumb to step over them."

He looked at me like I was speaking to an infant about hydropower. "Okay," he said.

"I thought you might like to know since it turns out you own a shitload of cattle and this actual land," I blathered on. "Good to know what you have, don't you think?"

"And you think I'll be working with these cattle things?" he asked. "I'm afraid that I don't even know what a cattle is."

I laughed out loud and slapped my thigh as I damn near ran off the road from his purely innocent response. "Cattle is plural for cows. A bunch of steers or cows. Even bulls are considered cattle."

"Okay," he repeated, tilting his head in fascination. "Just so we're clear, Hunt. I don't see myself working on this ranch."

I looked away. "I just thought you should know," I mumbled.

I sucked at these types of conversations. Mark always carried me at the beginning of our dating. He knew I was a simple man. In fact, he claimed it to be one of my best traits. I doubted Ben would see things that way. He was New York. I was Montana.

Ben slid his hand across the bench seat and against my thigh. I looked down at his hand and then at him. "I'm nervous too, Hunt," he whispered, his eyelashes covering his stunning green eyes as he looked down at our quasi-connection.

Lake Hawthorne was in front of us, so I pulled closer and turned the Tahoe off. "Yesterday," I said, pausing for a moment to calm my nerves. "I didn't think this could happen." I glanced at him to take his pulse, to reassure myself I wasn't barking up the wrong tree. "There is something happening, right?" I asked, confirming what we were doing.

"I want to get to know you better," he admitted. "And not just as a friend."

"I don't wanna be your friend either," I blurted. I'm sure I blushed redder than a fire ant. "No! I do wanna be your friend," I corrected. "But something more, too."

"There are so many things that you need to know about me first," he said. "I tend to worry about being good enough to date someone. Actually , I never think I'm good enough," he admitted. "Why not just tell it like it is?"

I'm not sure where my next question came from. "Do you kiss?" I asked, staring at him as I studied how amazingly flawless his skin was.

I hadn't noticed the natural beauty of his face this close-up. I remembered the first afternoon when I'd met him at the clinic. I'd labeled him as pretty without really seeming feminine, not that I would've cared if he was feminine. But he wasn't. Ben was masculine in an understated way, while being cosmetically stunning to look at.

I must have been in a state of dreaming because I heard my name somewhere off in the distance. I focused on his face. "Hunter?" he said, poking my arm.

"Uhm… yeah?" I answered, shaking the fog out of my brain.

"I was saying that I kiss," he said. "If you want to."