Chapter 20 Not Even Close
TWENTY
Not Even Close
Hutch
“They don’t have any mommies?” Emma asked sadly, standing with feet on one fence post, nose over the one above it, peering into the orphaned moose pen.
If nothing, the last hour confirmed what he already knew.
Brett and Abigail Buckner were fine people.
And good parents.
Abigail proved that further right then.
“Stuff happens in the wild, honey,” she told her daughter, leaned over her and stroking her back.
“That’s why it’s so good we have places like Mr. Hutch’s sanctuary, so someone can look after them, and then, like he told you, when they’re ready, they can take them back to where they were born to be.
Into the wild so they can live their lives how they’re supposed to. ”
“And they do have mommies,” Brett added. “Human mommies and daddies who look after them and help them become big and strong so they can take care of themselves when they’re back home.”
Emma gave the orphaned moose pen a good long stare before she hopped off it and looked up at Hutch. “Are you a moose daddy?”
He smiled down at her. “I’ve given my share of moose babies a bottle.”
Her face lit. “Can I give a moose baby a bottle?”
He kept smiling. “They’re bigger than you, sweetheart, even when they’re born.”
Her face got stubborn. “But I’m not a baby.”
“You aren’t,” Brett said. “But I don’t want my baby girl run over by a baby moose who wants his bottle.”
Emma turned her stubborn to her dad.
Liam edged up to Hutch’s side and tentatively took his hand.
Hutch wasn’t tentative in holding it.
He also didn’t miss the expression on Mabel’s face when he did. An expression that said she wanted to jump him.
Christ, this woman.
“Can we see the owls, Mr. Hutch?” Liam asked.
“You bet,” he told him.
He took them to the aviary next, and although they had a kickass aviary, the birds in it didn’t have as hopeful a future as the orphaned moose, because all of them had been wounded to the extent they’d never be released to the wild.
But he didn’t share that.
“I like the one with the really fluffy head!” Emma cried.
“Not so loud, baby,” Abigail said. “We’re in their home. We need to be polite.”
“I like the one with the really fluffy head,” Emma repeated in a little-kid whisper.
“That’s a boreal owl,” Hutch told them.
“Its name is Boreal?” Liam asked.
“No, bud. That’s what owls like him are called. His name is Otto.”
“Otto,” Liam murmured and looked back at the bird.
After they were done with the owls, they kept walking through the sanctuary. And that day was a good day, considering Ursula, their lame Canadian lynx (right hind leg injury), who didn’t come out very often, showed herself to both Liam’s and Emma’s, not to mention Abigail’s and Mabel’s delight.
He didn’t share that Canadian lynx were rare and endangered.
He just let them thrill at what a beauty she was, with Emma stating, “She’s got such big, poofy feet!”
They were heading back to their cars, and then onward to Mabel’s for dinner, with Mabel, Abigail and the kids walking ahead of Brett and Hutch in a way he knew either Brett or Abigail had arranged it to be.
In other words, the women and kids were so far ahead, they couldn’t hear Brett and Hutch talking.
“I had no idea this was as big of a setup as it is. It’s impressive,” Brett started it mild.
“Got good employees, good volunteers, and good professionals who give their time, experience and education to offer these animals a chance,” Hutch fell into his game.
“Must cost a pack to keep this place going,” Brett said.
“We get grants. They help. But that’s a never-ending fight.”
“Especially on top of the rescue.”
“Yeah, especially.”
“Probably won’t have to work too hard to get Abigail to agree to our yearly membership,” Brett said.
“Always appreciated,” Hutch muttered.
Bret left it a beat. Two.
And then…
“Mabel hasn’t been around long…”
Here it was.
“…but my wife gets something into her head, it never leaves. And she’s determined to make Mabel an honorary member of the family.”
“It’s good to have people wherever you are,” Hutch replied.
“Man, I think you’re getting me,” Brett said low.
Hutch looked to him.
Brett kept walking even as he held up his hands in a “don’t shoot” gesture.
“I was given a job. I didn’t want that job. But there’s shit in a marriage you don’t fight, and this is that shit. Those women talk.”
In other words, Abigail was aware of his and Mabel’s friends-with-benefits deal, and she wasn’t at one with it.
Because she wasn’t in it.
Therefore, she saw it as it was, without personal history and sexual chemistry and emotion wound up in it.
Onward from that, she knew Mabel was deeper than she’d let on, maybe even to herself.
And she wanted to know if Hutch was in that deep.
Hutch matched his tone when he replied, “I’d gnaw off my own arm before I’d hurt her.”
“Yeah. I told her you were that man. She said, ‘Twenty consecutive swooshes does not make a guy a decent guy.’”
“She’s right.”
Brett eyed him. “So am I.”
“Thanks, man,” Hutch murmured. “And just to say, I’m glad Mabel has someone to look out for her.”
“So I guess you can guess that my next topic is those religious folk who live next to Mabel.”
Hutch stopped, so Brett did too.
He saw Brett’s unease.
He felt it too and had been feeling it for a couple of weeks.
“I got a message from their leader that she won’t have any more problems,” he told the man.
“You believe it?”
Hutch nodded.
“You think there’s a catch?” Brett asked, proving further he was not stupid.
“I think I don’t know enough about that kind of outfit, nor do I know anything about their outfit, so I’m not resting easy.”
Brett nodded. “I hear you. Vigilance.”
“Precisely.”
“Mabel know about this message?”
She absolutely did.
It was the first thing he told her when he went to pick her up, because he might not be resting easy, but he wanted her to be.
He was careful to communicate it in a way she would continue to look out for herself, especially when Hutch wasn’t around to do it for her.
But he wanted her no longer to live under the constant threat of something else happening.
“She does. She also knows to continue to look out for herself,” Hutch answered.
Brett started them walking again, muttering, “Get the sense our Mabel has learned that lesson already.”
He didn’t mean the recent note.
And he wasn’t wrong.
Hutch didn’t confirm.
They’d made the parking lot.
And the gift shop.
Mabel instantly slid into what she’d warned him was going to be her Rich Auntie vibe, so Liam got a Stony Bluff sweatshirt and ballcap, Emma got a T-shirt and a stuffed owl, she bought herself and Abigail each a tee, and Brett a hoodie.
Brett faced this with resignation, clearly having been previously briefed as to how he’d handle it.
Abigail and the kids faced it with glee.
They loaded up with both the kids complaining about how it was easy to move their car seats to Hutch’s truck so they could ride with Hutch and Mabel. They lost that fight, and the gang headed to Mabel’s.
“I’m coming back to put in a volunteer application,” Mabel declared before he’d even pulled out of the parking lot.
Now, how did he guess that would happen?
“Not the rescue, I can’t hack the rescue,” she said. “But I bet I’d be hell on wheels bottle feeding a baby moose.”
He’d bet on that too.
And he hoped like fuck, after this became whatever it became, they could retain something so he could handle her involved with the sanctuary, because even after his term as president was over, he’d still be active on the board and with their work.
“I’ll bring an application to you, baby,” he said.
“Cool. Oh, and strap in, Hutch. Your knowledge about wildlife rescue and commitment to it is a massive turn on. I’m gonna suck your cock so good, you’ll be ruined for other women.”
His cock paid attention.
His heart squeezed.
His gut clenched.
But he forced his lips to smile. “Something to look forward to.”
“You better believe it,” she promised, stretching her seatbelt so she could land a kiss on his jaw.
For some reason, where her lips landed burned.
And it did it in a way he hoped that sensation would never fade.
But as he drove, it did.
Because something he’d learned in life.
The good shit always did.
He’d dropped Mabel and gone home to get Hannibal, so Mabel’s living room turned into a playroom of tug of war, fetch and kid versus dog play-wrestling while Mabel insisted he, Brett and Abigail sit at her island and drink beer while she futzed in the kitchen, also drinking beer, but doing it sorting dinner.
Though, there wasn’t a lot to be done, because she got the beef stew in the slow cooker that morning, so Hutch had yet again walked into a house that smelled like heaven.
The kids’ and dogs’ laughter, giggles and play growls competed with the soft rock Mabel put on. Conversation flowed. And plenty of mirth was had at the island too.
Since Mabel didn’t have a dining room table, when dinner was served, Brett and Abigail set the kids up on the floor at the coffee table while the adults ate at the island.
Mabel and Hutch gave their dogs orders so the kids could eat without the dogs getting in their space and begging.
And Abigail didn’t miss that Mabel had both biscuits and whole grain rolls in her breadbasket, a choice of white or cauliflower rice for a base, and only one of their party selected the healthier options.
Hutch didn’t miss it either.
Nor did he miss that Mabel didn’t make a big deal of it.
Or any deal of it.
He didn’t cook with Bree, he only ate with her. Even so, she didn’t hesitate to give him shit, mostly around the times she let herself “cheat,” and she hated to do that alone, so she nagged him to do it with her.
But Molly and Danielle both had tons to say about what a huge pain in the ass it was to cook healthier.
Hutch wasn’t the kind of man to make a woman cook for him as he liked it, and she either had to deal with it and eat like he ate or cook two meals. He could cook for himself, didn’t mind it, and was good at it.
But watching Mabel, it was the first time he noticed that it actually wasn’t that big of a deal.
You steamed some cauliflower rice, you offered two types of bread, and you made a main that was tasty that everyone would like.
She did that when she roasted her chicken, too.
She ate the skin.
He didn’t.
She smothered hers in gravy.
He didn’t.
The end.
Another thing he didn’t miss was that he was being evaluated by Abigail.
He didn’t mind. Good friends were good friends, that was part of the job of being a good friend, and he was glad Mabel had a friend like that close.
But he and Mabel were adults. She was the most together woman he’d met.
And Abigail didn’t know that Hutch had his finger firmly on that pulse, not so he could instigate damage control, but so he could manage it so there was minimal to no damage.
She’d learn.
He hoped.
He was so in it, and so at one with it, when Mabel pulled the chocolate pudding cake out of the oven and scooped that decadence out with a mound of ice cream on top, the scent of chocolate was so strong, it permeated the entire cabin.
It also created the first situation since he’d faced a homemade cinnamon roll that Nadia had made over a year ago.
Thus, Hutch had broken form by saying, “Small bowl for me,” when Mabel was asking for orders.
And again, he didn’t miss she didn’t speak word one.
Sure, she cocked her head to the side, gave him a look and a small smile, but nothing so big she’d bring attention to him, and definitely she shoveled no shit his way.
She just dished that goodness up.
And it was so fucking good, he wanted to do what Emma did.
Shove his face in the bowl and lick it clean.
It was a great afternoon. A great evening. Kids around. Dogs happy they had kids around. Music playing. And Moxie had all sorts of stuff to keep her eye on.
He felt he passed a test when Abigail gave him a tight hug before she got in their truck.
And it felt nice to stand on the porch with his arm around Mabel’s shoulders, hers around his waist, as she waved them into the dark.
The thing was, Hutch had never had a friend with benefits either.
So he had no idea, both Abigail and Brett Buckner, sitting in the front seat of their truck, seeing the couple as they were on the porch, knew those two people were friends, there were benefits, but that was not what they were in the slightest.
Not even close.