started to wiggle and grunt. One sharp little hoof pushed through the bottom of the paper.
Journee was going to suggest, sweetly of course, that Malley swing a leg over and come on in, but she eyed the miniskirt and decided that she’d better not.
“I think Dante would really appreciate it if you take the picture fast.”
“I don’t know about that. He looks like he’s strong enough to handle a little piglet.”
“I don’t think it’s about being strong, Malley. I think it’s more about the pig is slippery and it’s started to move. Take the picture.”
“Smile, Dante.” Malley held her phone in her hand, looking over it, waiting for Dante to comply.
He did, almost immediately, because the pig was struggling for real, and Journee was sure he was hoping he would be able to keep it still long enough for Malley to get the camera app up and focused.
“Hurry up, Malley, I’m losing it.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing, Dante. I can help you hold it together.”
“Talking about the pig,” Dante grunted, just before the animal slipped out of his grasp, slid under the bottom fence rail, where the paper caught and mostly slipped off his body, except for a piece that he’d apparently been chewing on, unbeknownst to everyone, and that trailed behind him as he streaked between Malley’s legs and took off toward the hot sausage stand two hundred yards away.
Journee figured he’d have been smarter to head for the cactus fries, but she hadn’t been asked her opinion.
Malley screeched and jumped up on the fence, dropping her phone and holding on to the post, looking traumatized.
Journee watched the pig as it ran across the field, dodging people, trailing wrapping paper, until finally two teen girls in jeans and boots looking for all the world like they wrestled hogs all the time jumped on it with one of them capturing both hind legs, one in each hand, and picking it up.
“Someone caught it,” she said, looking down at Dante who had landed on his butt and was sitting with legs bent, both forearms braced on them, and an annoyed look on his face which had traces of amusement as he met her eyes.
She looked over at Malley, who was still up on the second rung of the fence, clutching the post, although thankfully not screeching anymore.
“Did you get a picture?” she asked, trying to keep her tone calm and not sound like she was desperately hoping that she had.
“No.”
“Really? You didn’t get even one?” Dante asked, not exactly yelling but definitely frustrated. She’d been standing there for a long time.
“No. I was waiting for you to smile. I’m sure you didn’t want me to take the picture with you looking like a big old grouch. This could be on the front page of the local paper. It’s a big deal.”
“Pretty sure he’d have been fine with a picture and no smile,” Journee murmured, not looking at Dante, because she thought, while she didn’t exactly feel irritated, he did.
After all, he was the one sitting on his butt in the dirt right now. With no picture and grease on his hands. At least he hadn’t gotten bitten.
She looked down at him, her brows raised, the expression on her face saying, “what can we do, right?”
“How do you feel about banana cream?” he asked.
Chapter 19
Thankfully by the time the girls brought the pig back, most of the grease was rubbed off of it, and Dante didn’t have such a hard time holding it while Journee wrapped it quickly and efficiently. It was the third time, after all.
Malley snapped the picture, and he only growled at her twice.
Actual growling. Which, of course, made Journee give him a quelling look.
He was pretty sure though that, for the most part, she was having a good time. Even if their prospects for not getting pies in the face were pretty small.
Microscopic.
But it was okay. It was more important to have fun.
He might not have started the day believing that, but he was ending it that way. Or at least living it that way.
They should save some time with Blakely making sure they got a ride down to the Christmas tree. All they had to do was cut it down, and her ride would get them there and back.
Almost made him wish he had siblings.
“So what kind of ride does Blakely have?” he asked, scanning the area where an older couple was just getting out of their golf cart and grabbing their tree off the back.
He