I wince. “I don’t know. Maybe he figured out how to unlatch the gate.”
He gives me a disbelieving look as Pops just chuckles.
“Pigs are smart, Wes. He probably got bored in the stall and figured out he could reach the latch.”
“Would you just get him put back before he destroys the garden?”
I hand the umbrella off to Sawyer and make a kissing noise. “Winston, you want a treat, big boy?”
The rain soaks through my shirt in five seconds, and I glance down in instant regret as I realize I didn’t wear a bra under my gray T-shirt. There’s no hiding that fact now.
Tripp catches my eye and gives me a devilish smirk that makes my cheeks heat.
Winston picks that exact moment to waddle straight for the garden I‘ve spent my free time fixing up for Pops’ return.
“Winston, don’t you dare!” I holler.
He snorts and keeps going, completely unbothered by the rain as he makes a beeline for the freshly planted flowers.
“Come on, buddy,” I croon as I slog after him, mud squelching around my boots. “We need to get you back in the barn before Wes turns you into bacon.”
He trots faster, little hooves flicking mud up behind him.
I lunge and miss, nearly faceplanting. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.
Everyone else has already made it to the porch, watching with varying degrees of amusement. Pops’ mustache twitches as I glare up at them.
“Are y’all gonna stand there and stare or is someone gonna help me get this pig back in its pen?”
“The doctor told me I’m not allowed to do any strenuous activity,” Pops says, bending down to sit in the rocker on the porch like he’s settling in to watch the show.
I shoot him a look. “I wasn’t talking about you, Pops.”
Wes shrugs. “He’syourpig.”
Sawyer smacks his arm. “I’ll, uh, grab you some food to lure him with.”
Tripp steps off the porch, adjusting his hat as the rain pelts him.
He carefully sneaks up on Winston while thunder rolls in the distance. The pig trots a few feet ahead, snorting like this is a game. Tripp's boots squelch in the mud as he creeps closer, waiting for the right moment.
The air crackles and there's a chaotic burst of movement as he dives for the pig. Winston lets out a startled oink, squirming out of his hands, and Tripp goes down. Belly first. Right into a puddle of mud.
Wes and Pops snicker from the porch, and I can’t help myself. I burst out laughing too.
He shoots me an unimpressed look. “You think this is funny, Quinnie?”
I roll my lips together and shake my head, trying—and failing—to suppress my grin.
He pushes up onto his elbows with a scowl. “You should be nicer. I might not be so inclined to help a friend out in the future if all she does is laugh at me.”
Was that a threat to stop giving me orgasms?
My smile falters, and he gives me a knowing grin. “That’s what I thought.”
Winston snorts again, taking off toward the side of the house.
“Quinn,” Sawyer calls from the porch. “Catch.”
