Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs #5) - Lucy Score Page 0,48

feet out. It squealed and danced on dainty hooves.

Adjusting my hard-on, I squatted down and held out my hand. “This works for dogs, but I’m not sure about pigs.” If I could get a hand on her, I could pick her up… and then carry her the mile back to the house.

She pranced away and then back again, squealing insistently.

“Am I stupid for saying that it looks like she wants us to follow her?” I asked.

“I’m so glad you said it. I didn’t want you to think I was an idiot. What’s the matter, piggy? Is someone stuck in a well?” Shelby asked, head cocked.

The pig bowed on its front feet like a dog and then jogged up the path in front of us. She stopped a few yards out and hurried back.

I shrugged and stood. “Looks like a ‘yes’ to me. Let’s see where she’s going.”

The pig seemed delighted that we were following her. She scurried a few yards in front of us over the crest of the trail before veering off into the meadow. Tall grass tangled around rock outcroppings and trunks of trees.

“Is now a good time to mention I really don’t want to step on one of those poisonous snakes that reside in rural West Virginia?” she confessed.

“At least we’ll be able to see the bears coming.”

“You’re so silver lining-y,” she said.

We picked up the pace. The pig was on a mission. I just hoped she wasn’t leading us to a giant pile of shit or a dead body. If a Bodine was found in the vicinity of a dead body, law enforcement would have a shit fit.

The pig came to a stop in front of a few jagged rocks under a huge hickory tree. The shade was a welcome respite. I swiped the sweat out of my eyes with the hem of my t-shirt. The breeze stirred the leaves over our heads.

The pig squealed and then lay down.

“What’s that?” Shelby asked, venturing closer. “Oh my god, Jonah.”

It was a puppy. At least I thought it was a puppy. The poor thing’s fur was matted with mud and probably shit. It had a dirty rope around its neck. The end of which was tangled in loose branches and rocks.

It whimpered.

“Oh, you poor baby!” Shelby eased in, carefully not to startle the pig or the pup.

The pig nudged her hand, and Shelby gave her a stroke. “You’re a hero, little pig. You just saved this baby’s life.”

I edged in and grimly went to work on the rope. It was filthy, and the dog’s neck was rubbed raw beneath it. “Whoever had this dog is not getting him back.”

“Oh, he is a he!” Shelby said with delight as she lifted him carefully into her lap. Listlessly, he lapped at her hand. It was impossible to tell what color he was through the layers of dirt and mud and God knows what else. But he had the floppy-eared look of the beagle my neighbors had in Jetty Beach.

“He’s probably dehydrated and hungry as fuck,” I predicted.

“Get the pellets,” she ordered. “And bring me the water bottle I dropped.”

I did as instructed. Shelby cupped her hands in front of the puppy, and I poured the now warm water into her palms.

If dogs could be grateful, this puppy was worshipping Shelby. He drank deeply, and I refilled her hands.

The pig nosed her way in.

“Are you thirsty, too?” Shelby laughed. “I bet with all that running you did.”

We gave them the rest of the water and then the treats. The puppy devoured the pig kibble as if it were Kobe beef.

“Two animals and no leashes,” Shelby said, eyeing me.

I sighed. “I’ll carry the pig.”

“Hey, remember that time we kissed and then carried a pig and a puppy all the way home? Talk about a memorable summer fling.” Shelby joked behind me.

It was a long, sticky walk back. The pig seemed happy enough to be carried but had to continually reassure herself with glances over my shoulder at the puppy cradled in Shelby’s arms. I had the heavier of the two, but Shelby was holding the one that smelled like cow shit.

We were within a hundred yards of the house when George lumbered up the trail. “Katherine!” He ran to us, and the pig scrambled against my chest.

“Katherine?” I asked. It was an interesting name for the pig.

“After Katherine Johnson, the NASA mathematician,” he said reaching his receiver paws for the pig.

I handed her over.

“You’re a good boyfriend, GT. June’s going to love

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