his way to the passenger door. He offered me his hand, and I accepted it to get out of the car. My ankle was ninety-five percent better, so I appreciated being able to lean on him to stand.
“Mr. Douglas?”
“Yes, Pete?”
“Yes, Sir. Welcome.” Pete nodded in my direction.
“Hi, I’m Jurnee.”
“Jurnee, that’s an interesting name.”
“My parents are definitely interesting.”
Pete gave me a nod and smiled. “Well, on the phone, you said you had some questions about a pig. Shall we step into the barn, it’s going to rain.”
The sky was a mix of blue with the sun playing peek-a-boo with the clouds. “Rain?”
“It’s coming. I can feel it.”
Anderson wrapped his arm around me as we followed Pete down the stone walking path toward a red barn. The two dogs that followed the car down the drive bolted around, chasing each other. They didn’t approach Anderson or I for attention, but instead circled around us as if they were trying to keep us in a pack.
At the door of the barn, Pete paused. “Jack, Theodore. Guard.” Both dogs laid down next to one another to the left of the barn door.
“Beautiful dogs.”
“Thank you, Ms. They do their job, so they get to stay.” His tone was short but softened when he directed his attention to Anderson. “Mr. Douglas, you started to explain that you have a pig that is suffering from—what exactly?”
“Depression.”
Farmer Pete stepped aside and gestured for us to enter the barn. There were three perfectly maintained stalls, each with wood gates that only reached Pete’s waist. The piglets came alive as we approached.
“Settle it.” He snarled into the enclosure as he leaned against the middle one. “How did you determine your pig is depressed?”
“The person I have caring for Rover brought it to my attention. She says that I need to carve out more time to spend with him and–”
“Are you sure the person isn’t depressed themselves?”
I giggled. This was all new for me. Though Martin had asked me if I lived on a farm back in Michigan, I informed him that there was plenty of city in the Midwest.
Anderson drew me into his chest and wrapped his hands around my neck. If someone had asked when the last time I had felt comfortable enough with someone to engage in such a level of physical contact in public, I wouldn’t have been able to provide an accurate response—a long damn time.
“I can tell you, Mr. Douglas–”
“Anderson. Please.”
“Very well, Anderson. I’ve been raising pigs since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, and I’ve never come across a pig suffering from depression.”
“Really?”
“No, Sir. Now, I have seen situations where pigs get bored. These are some of the smartest animals out there, so keeping them occupied is important. How many pigs do you have?”
“Just one.”
“Maybe Rover needs a buddy.” I looked up at Anderson.
He leaned down and gave me a quick peck. “That’s why we’re here, Love.”
“You’re getting another pig?” My response was louder than I had intended as his use of the pet name Love had the same champagne corks popping affect in my stomach as the first time.
“Any objections?” His eyebrow went up.
He was asking me if I objected to the purchase of another pig? The enormity of that question wasn’t lost on me. A grin spread across my face that I was unable to control.
“As I mentioned on the phone, I’m not thrilled with the idea of one of my piglets moving to New York City. Pigs require time outside to play in the grass.”
“Pete, I can assure you your pig will have a very comfortable life.”
“Seriously,” I stifled a laugh, “Rover has an outdoor terrace that is four times bigger than the apartment I’m subletting. The space is actually bigger than my backyard back in Michigan.”
“So, your boyfriend mentioned.” Anderson squeezed me tighter against him at Farmer Pete’s words.
“Pete, as I mentioned, I’d like to get a friend for Rover but–”
Pete raised his hands, pausing Anderson mid-sentence, “You named your pig Rover?”
“When I got him, I was staying in a hotel while my place was being remodeled. I gave him a dog’s name to make the paperwork sail through with little or no argument. Plus, technically, pigs are banned in the City.”
The farmer’s eyebrow jetted up, so Anderson continued, “Ban or no ban, the city is filled with people who have pet pigs. Samantha, the vet that oversees Rover’s pig sitters, has a growing list of clients that hire her and her students to watch their pigs. Also, if Rover