Both men have now stripped down to next to nothing, both strategically positioned behind various ranch props that provide artistic coverage while maintaining some semblance of decorum.
Noah holds his magnifying glass with the dedication of a detective who’s forgotten what he’s supposed to be investigating, while Everett grips his gavel with the authority of a judge who’s about to rule this entire situation out of order.
“Perfect!” Muffin moans, snapping photos with machine-gun efficiency. “Now hold those poses! Very rugged, very masculine! You look like you could solve crimes and dispense justice while chopping wood and taming wild horses!”
“I’ve never chopped wood in my life,” Everett points out.
“And the closest I’ve come to taming a wild horse is arresting someone for public intoxication outside a rodeo,” Noah adds.
“That might have been me,” Carlotta calls out.
“Details!” Muffin waves dismissively. “This is about fantasy, not reality!”
Lenny growls, “I’ve witnessed territorial disputes between alpha males that were more dignified than this. At least in the wild, these displays serve an actual biological purpose. This is just peacocking with better lighting. Where’s the mating? Nature would’ve wrapped this up already. What are you ladies waiting for? Get in there and get wild.”
“You heard him, Lot,” Carlotta jumps up. “That was a direct order from the king of the jungle.” She’s about to dive in their direction, and I do my best to hold her back.
“It’s not that kind of calendar,” I say as I struggle to keep her from pouncing on the legal system on full display before us.
“More brooding!” Muffin directs. “Think about the law, Noah! Think about the criminals you’ve brought to justice!”
“Right now, I’m thinking about the criminal who talked me into this,” Noah replies, but he adjusts his deerstalker hat with professional resignation regardless.
“Everett, bang that gavel!” Muffin barks it out like an order. “You’re ruling in favor of romance!”
“I’m about to rule this entire situation a mistrial,” Everett mutters, but he raises the gavel with judicial authority that somehow makes being quasi-nude in a barnyard look almost dignified and downright delicious.
And boy, am I getting hungry.
“Now together!” Muffin exclaims. “I want both of you in one shot! The forces of law and order, united in their commitment to justice and really excellent abdominal definition!”
She’s not wrong.
Both men exchange a look that says it all—this has gone off the rails, there’s no getting it back, and they’re both too stubborn to admit defeat now.
The resulting pose is ridiculous. Noah is holding his magnifying glass as if he’s examining evidence while Everett looms behind hay bales and fence posts in a way that screamsI’m a rural hottie, but I have standards. They’re positioned so carefully that it’s clear they’ve both calculated exactly how much skin they can expose without technically breaking indecency laws. I’m almost impressed by the precision of it—they’ve managed to look dangerous and half-dressed while maintaining just enough coverage to avoid actual scandal.
“Brilliant!” Muffin shouts, taking what must be the hundredth photo. And you can bet I want to see every last one. “Absolutely brilliant! This calendar is going to raise enough money to fund the entire police and judicial budget for the next decade!”
That wasn’t the point of the calendar, but I see where she’s going with it.
I glance over in time to catch Carlotta recording the raunchy proceedings on her phone.
Drats. Why didn’t I think of that?
“I’m keeping this for posterity,” she shouts. “And possibly for blackmail purposes!”
“Delete that footage,” I warn her. “Right after you send it to me.”
“Never,” she replies with a wicked laugh. “This is officially one of my most prized possessions!”
Honestly, I can see why.
Lenny provides his final verdict on the proceedings. “Well, that’s certainly one way to solve civic budget problems. Sell those calendars, and Honey Hollow will be debt-free by Christmas.”
Personally, I’m convinced Noah and Everett could single-handedly stabilize the global economy.
“I think we have enough shots,” Everett announces in a tone that suggests his sanity waved the white flag ten minutes ago.
