The Hot Seat

When your wingman is a pot-bellied pig…

Beckett

I barrel into the clinic with Beans, my pot-bellied pig, convinced he’s on death’s doorstep. When the exam room door opens and Dr. Elsie Berg walks in, I get the shock of my life. The curvy, stunning redhead gives me a smile and I’m done for. Heat, heart flip, the whole cliché. I don’t believe in love at first sight…until I do.

Elsie checks over my pig, all gentle hands and wicked-smart eyes, and delivers the verdict: perfectly healthy. Come to find out, my pig’s a drama king and a schemer. The little ham has been faking it to see the beautiful vet. Of course, I can’t really blame him since I’m the one who’s now making excuses to come back.

Elsie

It’s a pretty normal day at work until Beckett Hot comes rushing in with his sick pig. The smoking hot fireman smiles at me, and I forget how to breathe.

I try to focus on the patient but it’s hard with his gorgeous owner pacing nearby. It doesn’t take me long to realize the pig is fine but I’m the one who’s suffering from an ailment—lightheadedness and heart palpitations. All caused by the smoking owner who’s suddenly stolen my heart.

If you like possessive hero, curvy girl, over-the-top, insta-love romance with a little bit of humor, and a tiny amount of drama this Loni Ree romance is perfect for you.

One more day like this and I’ll be a shambling corpse. Burned out, bone-tired, running on fumes and caffeine, all I want is five damn minutes to decompress. Just five minutes of silence before the weight of dealing with the drama the assholes in the Riverbend Ridge Fire Department love to cook up comes crashing back down on my shoulders. But the second my headlights light up the driveway, I know peace is no longer on the menu tonight.
There’s a low, blocky shadow at the door—Pork, my wiener dog, tail thumping against the glass. Not even pretending to be subtle about how much effort he’s putting into his laziness. This little shit has all the shame of a toddler in a sprinkler. And looming right behind him, filling the entryway with enough energy to light up a second shift, is my mother with a Tupperware container clutched tightly in her hands.
I get the door open—and barely have a second to brace before she pounces. “Oh, there you are! Beckett, did you see? Pork heard your engine before I did. Isn’t he clever?” I know I’m not going to like the reason for her late evening visit.
I’m barely two steps inside my own damn house. Pork rolls over my shoe like a furry speed bump while Beans, my potbelly pig, comes barreling out of the living room, hooves drumming a punk rhythm on the tile, corkscrew tail going wild.
“Mom,” I grunt, shouldering past the chaos, “what are you doing here?”
“I brought these over for you.” She places the Tupperware container of brownies on the hall table. My mother definitely believes in sweetening the deal. And she won’t be dissuaded when she’s on a mission. “The animals missed you! Pork’s been extra clingy, and Beans—well, honestly, I think he’s still getting over last week’s thunderstorm. I made him scrambled eggs to calm his nerves.” She’s got that glint in her eye. This isn’t about fucking scrambled eggs. “I took the babies to the vet today for shots.” I vaguely remember her reminding me about their yearly appointment, but honestly, I’ve had too much on my mind to worry about it. “More importantly, have you seen the new veterinarian? Dr. Elsie Berg moved in last month, and Beckett, she’s absolutely gorgeous.”
There it is. The real reason for this ambush. My three younger brothers are all happily married, and my mother has decided to turn her matchmaking prowess toward me.
I drop my keys in the dish by the door and try to look as intimidating as possible, but I’m still in rumpled uniform pants with a spot of Beans’s snot right below my knee. “Don’t start,” I warn. “I am not interested, and I don’t have time. Work has been a disaster, my crew can’t go three days without a catastrophe, and Beans has been having nightmares again, so I’m running on zero fucking sleep.”
“Don’t use that language.” My mother glares at me before rambling on. “She’s single,” she says, like that’s supposed to sweeten the deal. “And she loves animals. She told me Beans was the best-behaved pig she’s ever met. You should’ve seen how he sparkled for her even though he was terrified of his shots.”
I glance down at Beans, who’s standing on his back legs, reaching to sniff the container of brownies, and trying to decide if he can get into them with nothing but his snout and brute force. Yeah, the pig is clearly traumatized.
“Back off, Mom.” I grab the brownies and stash them on top of the fridge, where neither of my animal toddlers can reach them. “I have eight reports to finish and sleep to catch up on. No matchmaking. Understood?”
She sighs, putting on her best “woe is me” act. “I’m just saying, Beckett, you aren’t getting any younger.” Like I need that goddamn reminder.
“Go home, Mom.” I’m too tired to deal with this right now.
She blows me a kiss, collects her purse, and calls Beans a “handsome boy” on her way out the door. Pork whines in protest, but I scoop him up, cradle his sausage-shaped body like a baby, and tell him in a voice I absolutely would not use in public, “You’re my big, tough guard dog, aren’t you?”
Pork licks my chin and immediately falls asleep in my arms. The world’s most intimidating security system.
* * *
Seven hours later, I’m working the back of my eyelids for all I’m worth when the sound of retching drags me from my much-needed slumber.
I tear back the covers and find Beans, lying in a dark little curl at the foot of my bed, making the most pathetic snuffling noise I’ve ever heard.
“Hey, what the—” I hop up so fast I nearly knock Pork onto the floor. The dog gives me a sleep-glazed glare and immediately burrows under the blanket.
Beans doesn’t budge when I lightly stroke his back. He just makes a pathetic whimper.
Instant panic. This is bad. This is “call the vet and demand an ambulance” level bad. My swine baby is suffering. I hurry up and dress while calling the vet emergency line. Someone answers on the second ring. “Riverbend Ridge Veterinary, what’s your emergency?”
“My pig. Beans. He’s fucking miserable and not moving. Looks like hell.”
She goes into professional mode so fast it’s almost impressive. “Keep him warm and quiet,” she says, like she’s reading my mind from across town. “Dr. Berg will meet you at the office at seven. Can you be here?”
Hell yes, I can. I’m already sweating through my shirt as I sit next to my baby, lightly stroking his back. My lungs are in my throat. Pork is snoring like nothing is happening while I’m barely holding it together. Fuck. Seven a.m. can’t come fast enough.