Grabbing the fence fault detector from my back pocket, I shove the metal stick into the ground and release it before setting the hook on the top of the box on all three of the lines. Six out of eight lights blink, and Isqueal a little in excitement when everything is working how it should. My new neighbor knew a lot more about electric fencing than I expected he would. I wonder what other farm-related pointers he could give me, and would any of them lead to us being naked in his barn at the same time?
The images of our sweaty bodies moving together while he bends me over a bale of hay has me acting without thinking clearly and I place my hand on the stick in the ground at the same time as touching my fingers to the other end, shocking the fuck out of myself. Jumping back, I release both pieces, feeling unsteady from the vibration shaking me on the inside.
My friends are always telling me my dirty-ass mind will eventually get me into trouble—they weren’t wrong. I’ll be feeling that voltage running through me all day, when I’d much rather be struggling to walk back to the house due to taking my neighbor’s cock in my ass. Now that’s the kind of pain I’d gladly welcome any time. Him being an asshole should have turned me off, but all it did was have me wishing I was the seat he was bouncing up and down on. Then again I have always been attracted to the wrong type of men. Assholes are my damn kryptonite and now I can add scary, mysterious to the list.
Shaking my arms in front of me, I try to bring the feeling back into my hands before picking up the fence fault detector the right way and walking back to the house.
Glancing down at my hay-covered clothes, I dust myself off and kick my boots off at the welcome mat. It’s definitely seen better days, caked in dirt and missing letters from the word “welcome.”
My dog follows me inside and rushes toward his food bowl, wagging his tail after nearly knocking me over.
“Yes, boy. I know. I’m hungry too.”
The wooden floor is cold on my feet, reaching right through my socks as I walk toward the kitchen. Shrugging my jacket off onto the nearest chair, I empty my pockets on the counter and rummage through the cabinets. I’mstill learning what’s where and that my brother isn’t the most organized man in the world.
Let’s be real, the man’s a fucking slob, and the amount of time I’ve been here has been nowhere near enough to get everything to my liking.
Sighing loudly, I rub my noisy stomach while bringing down several cans of soup. I swear there’s at least a year’s supply in here, ranging from chicken to vegetable and beef. He’s the only person I’ve ever known to mix their food with their cups. I guess it makes it easy on the days you want to drink your dinner. I need to take a trip into town and grab some groceries. The kind that don’t scream out doomsday hoarder.
Working from home for the last few years made me want to leave my house less. I got too comfortable in my pajama pants and preferred to have my groceries delivered. It saved me lots of time too. I still have to feed the pigs, collect the chicken eggs, and let the crazy fuckers out for a bit before finishing some online homework. Of course this all had to happen right before the semester ended. I could have said no, but my brother has been there for me many times before and we’re all each other really has.
I also saw it as an opportunity for a change of scenery after being laid off from my part-time job and dumped by my boyfriend of three months. I traded a city full of buildings and traffic for quiet country roads covered in animal shit. I really was moving up in life and coming closer to the dream I always envisioned. Instead of the deluxe apartment in the sky, I’m living in an old fixer-upper sitting above an animal wasteland. I no longer know what the bottom of my shoes look like without shit attached to them. It’s one of those accessories that eventually ends up wearing you.
At least the hot neighbor was a nice distraction for the day. A knock at the door has me spilling cold soup on my hand as I’m lifting it to the microwave. Sliding the bowl inside, I close the door, and at a few taps of my fingers a buzzing sound fills the air.
Another bang comes to the door. Clenching my fists at my sides, I march toward the impatient visitor, not caring if my white sleeveless shirt shows off all the scratches I've earned from hard work or my lack of muscles. Lifting hay bales daily has done nothing to improve my lanky physique. Maybe I need to start bench pressing a sheep or two a day as well.
Placing my hand on the knob, it twists open beneath the grip of my fingers, and a gasp of air is caught in my throat when my gaze lands on the man from earlier. It’s not until he’s lifting his arm in the air that I notice the wiggling baby pig. “Not only can’t you keep your sheep on your property, but you’re losing your pigs too. This is just one of several.”
Leaning on the door frame, I look between him and the squealing black animal, because despite whatBabeandCharlotte’s Webtaught me, not all pigs are pink. In fact, not a single one that my brother owns is. They also don’t have cool spider friends who leave messages in their webs.
“What makes you think it’s mine?”
He huffs out a breath. “Are you saying it’s not?”
Opening the screen door, I pet the piglet between the ears. “I mean it could be, but there’s also a chance it’s not.”
His eyes squint. “Is this your pig or not?”
“Maybe.” I actually have no fucking clue without counting. How am I supposed to remember what they all look like?
“I’m going to take that as a yes.” He presses the squirming animal to my chest. Sighing, I wrap my arm around its twisting body, and before I can step onto the porch, the piglet jumps forward and takes off running.
The man shakes his head, placing his hands on his hips. “Are you going to go after it or not?”
Swallowing hard, I nod. “That is what I should do, isn’t it?”
Not remembering where I left my shoes, I rush forward and run down the porch steps calling out to the runaway animal. “Oh pig! Oink. Oink. Come here.”
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks, staring down at me as I drop to all fours, looking under my car.
“Looking for the pig,” I say, staring up at him, wrinkling my brow.
“If I were you, I’d call my brother and tell him to come back before all his animals become roadkill or worse.”
Standing up, I dust off the front of my pants with my hands. “I can’t.”
“And why not? Is he somewhere he can’t be reached?”
