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Instead, I had totextthat to him. Which is not as effective as telling him. And then sitting there and making sure he doesn’t start looking up ‘how to buy a teacup pig’ and ‘what do teacup pigs eat’ and ‘good names for teacup pigs’. Especially that last one. Obviously, Mariah should get to name her own pig.
The odds are that Cian is going to own a teacup pig—okay, more than one, because he never does anything small—by this time tomorrow. And that he won’t have noticed the fact about the pigs that says the ‘teacup’ size can still get to be two hundred pounds.
Which means that I’ll be living with a small herd of teacup pigs. All more-than-a-thousand-pounds of them.
And no, I don’t look up if a group of pigs is called a herd. But I’m eighty-percent sure it’s not.
Idosend him an article titled “Ten Things About Teacup Pigs That Aren’t So Cute” but I know Cian well and figure he’ll only read to about item four, so I also send the article to Scarlett.
But that’s all I can do. Because instead of preventing my future backyard from turning into a small barnyardin person, I’m stalking across this dingy room in small-town Ohio where the beer options are pitiful, and I wouldn’t even consider ordering a scotch to tell the guy leaning on the bar that he’d better back the fuck up, or we’re going to have ahugeproblem. A much, much bigger problem than figuring out how to house half a dozen not-so-little pigs.
“Come on, Jeff, this isn’t something you need to worry about,” the beautiful, friendly, small-town bartender—the woman who has made my lifeverycomplicated—is saying to the guy. “We’ve all known each other a long time. Just let it go.”
“I can’t let it go,” Jeff says, very stupidly leaning in even closer to her. “He’s myfriend. I have to try to help him.”
Ruby plants a hand on her hip and frowns. “No. You don’t. This isn’t about you at all. And youknowthey have problems. Don’t tell me you don’t.”
“Chris has always been hot-headed,” Jeff says. “You know he’s a good guy deep down.”
She barks out a laugh. “No, I don’t know that. April left. It’s over. The best thing you can do to help is helphimget used to that truth.”
“Goddammit, Ruby!” Jeff slams his hand down on the bar. “Don’t be a bitch about this! You don’t want in the middle of this.”
Ruby steps closer to the bar and points a finger at him. “Donotraise your voice to me, Jeff Messer! You need to leave.” She thrusts her finger at the door.
“I don’t have to go anywhere.”
“Actually, you do.” She points at the sign behind the bar that says the employees have the right to refuse service to anyone. “Don’t make me call Danny.”
I don’t know who Danny is. Maybe he’s the local cop. Maybe he’s just another friend. It doesn’t matter.
I’m here now.
Because of her. This woman whose heart is bigger than her common sense.
This woman who has reminded me daily for the past eight months why I have intentionally resisted falling in love. Until now.
“No need to bother Danny,” I say from right behind Jeff. “Jeff’s on his way out.”
The man swivels on his bar stool quickly. He scowls at me. “Excuse me?”
I’m aware of him. I’m cataloging his body language in case he takes a swing. But my eyes are on the gorgeous brunette behind the bar. She’s wearing blue jeans, a sunshine yellow tank top, and several necklaces and bracelets. Her long, dark hair is down, hanging nearly to the middle of her back, and her blue eyes are locked on mine.
Lots of labels go through my mind as I look at her. The two primary ones arelove of my lifeandpain in my ass.
Then she sighs. “What are you doing here?”
Also, the last person on the planet who wants to see me. Right now. Maybe ever.
“Helping Jeff find the door.” I look at Jeff. “Right?”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he tells me belligerently. “I don’t know you. I was talkin’ to Ruby.”
“You were being an asshole to Ruby, and that’s not okay with me. You can walk to the door, or I’ll carry you there. Choose,” I tell him.
“You work for Danny?” he asks.
“I don’t know who Danny is,” I tell him.