CHAPTER EIGHT Benedict

M y heart was busy unlocking deadbolts while I waited for the Sheriff to respond to my age comment.

"Well, you're right, doc. I guess thirty-two is young," he finally began. "Our old sheriff skipped town, and I was the only deputy at the time, so I got the job," the extremely handsome sheriff answered, finally addressing my comment.

"But he had to run for re-election and he won in a landslide," Jill blurted out. "Hunt is very respected in our town."

I returned my eyes to Hunter. "I'm sure he is," I agreed. "You must be so proud of your husband, Jill."

They laughed simultaneously. Perhaps a bit too strongly. "Oh, gosh no," Jill stated. "Hunt is like my brother. He was married to my brother."

I listened to Jill speaking, but all I really heard her say was that the Sheriff was once married to a man. This hunk was gay? Hunter was certainly not future husband material, but I could see the sexual draw of a man like him. I'd had my sexual fantasy man. But now I wanted something true and long-term.

" Was married?" I asked, realizing that I may have overstepped by asking.

"He passed away two years ago," the Sheriff revealed.

I watched as Jill placed her hand on his arm, her concern readily apparent. I couldn't tell you whose eyes filled fastest, but they both obviously had their fair share of evident pain.

Hunter turned away from me. His profile was incredible to witness. He had a strong nose with full lips and a square jaw one would associate with a man of the law. He actually looked like a lawman you'd see in a western film. However, this guy's movie would be R-rated. He was a tall drink of water. Built broad across the chest, and even in his sheriff's uniform, you could tell he was ripped, possibly jacked to the max.

A buzzed head and deep blue eyes the color of an ocean's abyss, with surrounding whites as pure as driven snow, caused my breath to hitch. As redneck as he appeared, there was something underneath a thin veneer of hurt that he hid behind. Like I said, so not my type.

"I'm sorry," I said. "For your loss," I added, unsure of how to respond to a man who didn't seem like he would ever get near a gay person, let alone be one.

"Mark was a wonderful person," Jill said. "And Hunt is like a brother to me now. Actually, he's become my brother."

"I see you're not in a uniform, Jill. What do you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I own and operate the local diner," she replied. "It's named Jill's, like mine and my mother's name."

"There's another beautiful woman named Jill in this town?" I asked.

She quickly glanced at Hunter. "Well, not to be too gloomy on your first day in town, but my mama died, too."

I suddenly felt like I was in a Hallmark movie. Small-town sheriff's spouse is dead. His lady friend-sister is grieving and running a business she inherited because of another death, and I was a New Yorker in the middle of a nightmare by being in Hicksville, USA.

"I'm sorry for you both," I said.

"We make do," Hunter stated. "Real nice meeting you, Ben. I just wanted to introduce myself and offer any assistance I can if you need help of any kind."

"I wanted to meet you too," Jill added. "Maybe you can come to the diner for meals until you get settled?" she asked.

"Do you offer a vegetarian selection?" I asked, noticing Hunter roll his eyes and look away. I expected him to do that. He seemed like the type to gnaw on a cow's leg just for sport.

"Well," Jill began. "I'm sure I could prepare a vegetable dish for you."

As expected, she seemed confused by me announcing I was a vegetarian. Most people are surprised when someone admits to being vegetarian. I'd noticed their looks many times. Jill was pretty for sure. A petite frame supported a kind face. She wore a bit of makeup, like it wasn't her usual thing. Coming from New York City, she paled in comparison to the knockout gorgeous women of my city, but she was still quite pleasing to look at.

"That's kind of you, Jill."

"Maybe tonight?" she asked. "Just tell me what your favorite veggies are, and I can look up some dishes."

Uh-oh. I immediately sensed she liked me in that certain way. How to avoid that discussion on my very first day? I'd seen seven patients so far, each of them with legitimate concerns, and a willingness to introduce me to daughters, granddaughters, nieces, and beautiful neighbors. Not a single one offered the male versions of those fine candidates.

"I think I might DoorDash for the first few nights," I stated. "You know, until I get settled."

The Sheriff barely hid his disdain when he snorted out loud. "Sorry, doc, but it's Jill's or a day-old hotdog at Skeeter's gas station several miles back in the next town. There aren't things like DoorDash, Uber , or any of those high-brow New York things in Plentywood."

"I guess I never considered technological advances to be high-brow, sheriff," I responded, thinking I was right about him. "Perhaps a trip to the big city would be enjoyable for you when you get the chance."

He put his sheriff's hat back on his buzzed head, tipped it toward me, and grinned. "Not likely, Benedict ."

So, he did have a pulse under that stoic appearance, adding a snarky tone with the use of my full name. Good thing I didn't like men who looked like they could wrestle a grizzly bear. It didn't appear that the sheriff and I were going to be buddies.

The cranky nurse I'd just met an hour before walked between Hunter and me, stopping just after and turning to face him. "You blew the interview, sheriff," she stated, quickly leveling her gaze at Jill. "And as for you, girly. It looks like my grandson Charlie has a better shot at our new doctor than you do."

"But… wait. What?" Jill cried, clearly unprepared for Agnes's statement.

Agnes lifted a sheet a paper on her clipboard, dragging a finger down the face of it. "Well, lookie here," she trilled with glee. "Looks like my grandson, Charlie, has an appointment with our new doctor tomorrow."

The Charlie she spoke of had to be the guy I'd met at Skeeter's Gas station earlier, right? The same person who told me to say hi to his grandmother? She just inferred he was gay as well.

What was happening in this town? I was convinced a small town in Montana would be crickets as far as having any gay people, but already there could be two that I knew of.

One was the charmer Charlie at the gas station. A Thelma & Louise Brad Pitt wannabe, who I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole.

The other, an uber-masculine sheriff of a small town. He was big, strong, manly, and so not my type. Not my type, only because I'd been destroyed by the same type of man during my medical residency.

Fat chance I'd involve myself in a repeat of that hurt.