“Of course I mean that.”
I almost can’t believe my ears. Since that awful day, I’ve had countless people look at me with pity while they offer platitudes like, “Good thing you figured it outbeforeyou got married.” Worse, there are plenty of folks who’ve judged me and whispered behind my back.
And then there’s Jack, the single soul—including my own family—who thinks that what I did was brave. And now that he’s pointed that out, I realize that itwasbrave. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.
Trying not to let on how much his words affected me, I stand and extend my hand. “Okay, then. If you give me a worthy salary, we have a deal.”
He stands and shakes my hand.
And that’s when Winston starts to cry out big fat piglet squeals.
“Um, Claire.” Jack’s face twists as he cocks his head. “Is there a pig in that carrier?”
“No, it’s my pug, Henry.” I bite my lip. “He sounds like a pig sometimes.”
Jack shoots me another look before darting over and unzipping Winston’s carrier.
“Hey, you can’t touch my pig!” I jump up. “I mean pug.”
It doesn’t matter because it’s too late. Winston is darting off the porch onto the front lawn, doing his best to get away from Killer Jack.
“Winston, baby, get back here.” I chase after him. We do a few circles in the yard before I finally corner him in the bushes where I pick him up. Once I have a good grip on him, I turn around to see Jack standing there, arms folded.
“That looks an awful lot like the pig I paid a bunch of money for. That was supposed to be farm-fresh.” Jack angles his head. “And to be honest, I got complaints from folks that night, claiming that our pig didn’t taste as fresh as the one I roasted when I first arrived in Blue Vine.”
I shift on my feet. “You served a fresh pig. It came straight from the butcher.”
Jack squeezes his eyes closed. “And how long had it sat in the butcher shop?”
“Um…” I trail off, looking away. “I’m not sure.”
“Aw, man. I knew you were probably gonna steal this pig, but I thought you’d get me another fresh one.” He points at me. “You owe me, Cole.”
He used my last name, which as far as nicknames go, is on the better side. It beats the hell out of Chicken Little.
He shakes his head. “Man, IknewI couldn’t trust you. I should’ve listened to my gut.” He groans. “They’ve probably already chewed me apart online.”
“Here we go again with the ‘getting eaten alive’ spiel.” I let out a whoosh of air, and I squeeze Winston tighter. “Can we skip it? I’m sorry, okay? It won’t happen again.”
“You better believe it won’t, because you’ll never be handling my meat again.” He puts a palm in the air. “That came out wrong. And I don’t normally have such a problem with my words.”
I snicker before I say, “Don’t worry, Idefinitelywon’t be handling your meat.” I cover Winston’s ears. “It’s okay, Winston, don’t listen to this butchering murderer. You’re not just meat, sweet baby. You’re one special pig.”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Jack rolls his eyes then approaches. “Let me hold Winston.” He puts out his arms. “Make amends.”
I side-eye Jack but then I hand Winston over.
Jack gives Winston’s chin a little scratch, and when the pig closes his eyes in bliss, Jack continues with, “Awe, there, little buddy. Wanna come with me to The Fine Bone? I have yummy apples.”
I gasp, reaching over and trying to yank Winston back, missing when Jack pulls the pig away. I scowl, but when Jack lets out a full-bellied laugh, I burst out in laughter too. Our eyes lock.
And there it is, that tension again. Winding up the back of my neck, heating my skin. The tension I don’t ever remember feeling with my fiancé. The same tension that, if I’m being honest with myself, I didn’t realize just how much I wanted in my life.
Jack coos at Winston. His voice is low, soft, comforting. The way it was when he talked me through my pre-wedding crisis.
Maybe working for him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
* * *