Thirty. Single. And now apparently a fucking pig owner. All of which are against my will.
The tiny pink creature wiggles its shiny, wet nose at me.
“Look it isn’t personal,” I sigh and lean against the balcony railing of my fourth floor apartment patio. “I just…I’m not really sure this is a good fit.”
She continues staring at me from the chair I placed her in.
“You’re a pig. You’re not exactly a cat or a dog…” My hands give my mocha arms a quick rub in a poor attempt to warm them from the unusually cold spring air. “You know, I don’t even know what I should feed you. I mean…you’re like…a baby? Milk?” The realization I am talking to a farm animal as if it’s an actual human being causes me to groan loudly.
So this is where my life has bottomed out at? Discussions with a creature that rolls around in their own shit for fun? Wait. Was this some sort of metaphor message he was trying to send by leaving me with this thing? Is he actually that clever or am I giving him credit when I should be punching him in the balls?
“We can probably find you a good home. People like exotic pets.” My pause is filled with a hum. “You’re not exactly exotic, are you? You’re not from the other side of the world. You didn’t have a shit time trying to get through customs. He didn’t pay a hefty amount just so I could have you…”
Daryl never gave me that much thought. Come to think of it, I rarely give me that much thought.
The doorbell rings and I carefully close the lid to the grill.
I stroll over, pick up the pig, and make my way through the living room for the front door. Without bothering to check the peep hole, I swing it open and come face to face with a very unexpected sight. A very handsome, knees buckling, genetic lottery winning, unexpected sight.
The 6’0, tanned skin, green eyed stranger offers me a wide smile along with a simple, “Hello.”
His southern drawl kicks the corner of my lip up.
Huh. Just when I was worried I would never smile again, tall, dark, and cowboy shows up on my front doorstep. I wonder if this is some sort of ironic apology for having my boyfriend leave me on my birthday. God, I hope so. Because I will take it.
“Hate to bother you,” he casually continues, “but my name is Ford Shaw, and I think that belongs to me.”
It takes a moment for my eyes to peel themselves away from his muscular frame being hidden in a pair of jeans and a fitted white t-shirt. Shamelessly, I let my eyes caress what my hands shouldn’t, while my brain actively imagines what his accent sounds like in bed. If his voices gets deeper or gruffer right as he’s about to come.
Wow…It’s good to see my lack of sex life is now preventing me from having innocent conversations with complete strangers.
I give my head a shake in an attempt to eradicate the unsolicited pornographic thoughts. “Excuse me?”
Ford points to my new pink companion. “That’s my baby hog.”
Defensively, I cradle the creature closer to me. “No. This is my baby pig.”
“It’s a baby hog.”
“They’re synonyms.”
“Not quite,” he insists. “A hog is always a pig, but not all pigs are hogs.”
Baffled by the explanation almost as much as the unforeseen visit, I snip, “Well this pig is my pig. Her name is Princess Pinky and I love her.”
Lie. Total lie. And a terrible name. Well, maybe a kinda cute name. But I definitely don’t love her. I’m not even sure I like her. It’s the principle of the matter. Who shows up on someone’s door step and just starts demanding something?
Ford tries to maintain his composure but fails. Miserably. “You can’t call a hog Princess Pinky.”
“That’s funny because I think I just did.”
“Well, you shouldn’t.”
“But I do.”
“Just because you do something already, doesn’t mean you should. Or that because you’ve done it in the past you should keep repeating it over and over and over again like there’s no damn consequence to your actions.”
Why do I get the feeling his little tirade wasn’t really about this pig?
Wishing my sympathy meter wasn’t at a new all-time low, but helpless in that department, I snap, “And who the hell are you? The hog police?”
“I-”
“Her name is Princess Pinky. She’s mine.”
“But-”
“Mine! And since she’s mine, I can name her whatever the hell I want.”
A hint of frustration flashes in his green eyes. His body struggles not to tense while one hand rubs the back of his strong neck. I have to stifle down the urge to smirk. He looks a bit sexy all flustered. Again, that reaction is most likely the result of having to more frequently self-serve over the past two months…I thought it was just a dry spell. Couples have those. At least I thought they did. Would’ve never guessed it was because he was too tired from porking someone else. Pun intended.
“I’m sorry,” Ford sighs deeply. “I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding here.”
“You’re the one who showed up on my doorstep demanding I hand over Princess Pinky.”
He cringes at the name though this time I smile softly. His eyes catch a glimpse of my response, and he lets out a small chuckle. “She’s actually mine. See, she was a gift to my ex fiancé and-”
“Wait. What?” I interject quickly. “What do you mean your ex fiancé?”
“Carol Ann,” he replies and my eyes instantly narrow. “I left the little girl as a surprise for her while I had to go away on business. It was supposed to be a sweet way to keep her company.”
And a dog never crossed his mind?
“However, when I got home, not only was my fiancé gone, along with all of her things, but so was the baby hog.”
“So I’m not the only one that happened to…” I mumble. “Was it also your birthday?”
Ford’s jaw unhinges.
“Oh okay. Just me then.” With a heavy exhale, I back up to allow him entrance. “Why don’t you come in?”
He hesitates. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I would rather Mrs. Hensley not overhear every word of this conversation. She likes to keep her ear pressed to the door to catch all the drama, so she can to tell her bridge club about it on Saturday nights. Sadly her social life is way more active than mine.”
His smile returns and instantly so does mine.
Rather than dwell on how easy it is to do that around him, I rub the top of Princess Pinky’s head as he strolls himself into my two-bedroom, downtown apartment.
Surprisingly, Ford doesn’t enter in more than a couple of steps. He lingers near the front door with a very distinct fear of overstepping his boundaries painted in his eyes.
Unsure I’ve ever met a man so cautious let alone concerned with upsetting me, I find myself grinning again. “Let’s start over. I’m Ollie. Really, my name’s Olivia, but everyone calls me Ollie…Except Daryl. Daryl called me Olivia, and I hated it. Hate him too a little bit.”
My rambling receives another smirk. “I’m Ford. Everyone calls me Ford except my family.”
Curiosity gets the better of me. “What do they call you?”
A bit of red appears in his cheeks. “Runt.”
I lift my eyebrows in surprise. “Runt? As in…the smallest?”
“Yeah.”
“They make them bigger than you!?”
Ford lets out a loud laugh, and I find my own face heating in slight embarrassment.
Probably could’ve phrased that better.
“I meant…I didn’t….You’re just…not small.”
He wets his lips slowly as if contemplating a dirty retort. “Nope.”
Oh Dear Lord now I wish he was saying that in a naughty way. Ugh. This is not healthy. Not only to basically be ogling a stranger, but to be picturing him naked in various positions. This is terrible! Well, the images of him aren’t terrible. By any means. Hell, the things my imagination is doing with full lips is award winning to be honest…No. No! No. This is bad. This is very very bad. He’s my ex boyfriend’s, new girlfriend’s ex fiancé. That fact alone has to make me wanting to see him naked crazily inappropriate.
I begin attempting to crush the impure thoughts when Ford asks, “Are you barbequin’?”
A puzzled look appears. “No…Why?”
Ford casually tosses his head towards my back patio door.
I turn to glance at the reason he asked. Immediately, I let out a huge squeak and bolt to grab the fire extinguisher from under the kitchen sink. The three of us rush towards the smoking grill, my humiliation reaching impressively high levels.
He only allows me to struggle with juggling Princess Pinky and the extinguisher for a brief moment. “Can I help?”
Reluctantly, I hand him the pig. “Don’t try to run away with her.”
Ford laughs again and surrenders one hand.
The fire continues to roar at me while I struggle to figure out how to use the extinguisher.
Once more he patiently waits until the frustration on my face is too much to bear before suggesting a switch. As soon as Princess Pinky is in my arms, Ford picks up the device and sprays it like some sort of flame killing magician.
I let out a deep breath, loose brown curls bouncing out of my eyes. “Thanks.”
He gives me a crooked grin at the same time he places the red contraption of confusion on the ground. “Anytime.”
“You like a firefighter or something?”
“No,” his deep voice contains a hint of mirth. “Just not my first fire.”
Not sure if that makes me feel better or not, I simply offer him another smile of gratitude.
“What were you cookin’?”
“I wasn’t…” Petting the top of Princess Pinky’s head, I sigh, “I was…having a therapeutic moment.”
Ford darts his eyebrows down in question.
Another deep breath escapes. “Found an old photo of Daryl and one of his favorite work out shirts he left behind. Decided on a little goodbye ritual burning to help soothe the anger.”
He drops down into the patio chair Princess Pinky was occupying earlier. “You mentioned it was your birthday?”
I lean against the railing area where I was when he first rang my doorbell. “Yeah. Yesterday, after work, my best friend…well really my only friend took me out for drinks, insisting I celebrate the milestone birthday and since the bosses were paying for it that we live it up. When I came home, his shit was gone, but he had the decency to leave me behind a letter along with the new found responsibility of being a pet owner.”
Considerate bastard. Thankfully, I was too wasted to really process the entire mess. I stumbled into the apartment, read the note, and picked up the pig before going straight to bed. It wasn’t until she woke me up at 4 a.m. that everything really started to sink in. Shortly after came a headache and my executive decision to go back to bed to further delay having to deal with being dumped.
Rather than continue, my sob story out loud, I turn the spotlight onto him. “And Carol Ann was your fiancé?”
Ford quickly nods. “Yeah. We’ve been on and off since high school. Not the first time she’s split, but I think it’s permanent.” There’s a short pause followed promptly with, “I know it is.”
“’Cause she packed all her shit?”
He shrugs. “Just feel it in my gut.”
I hum my understanding. “You don’t seem….too sad about it….unless you’re one of those people who can hide their emotions really well. I’m personally not.”
The laugh out of him inspires me to grin.
How the hell does he keep doing that?
“Nothin’ wrong with wearin’ your feelings on sleeve, Darlin’. Less likely to be a liar.”
“Or at least not a good one.”
Ford briefly smirks before shrugging. “I guess I’m not really too broken up about the whole thing. To be honest? Sadder about losing my hog.”
Wow. What kind of shitty person do you have to be for a hot cowboy to be more upset about losing his pig than you? Here I thought Daryl left me for some sort of super model saint. Some perfect woman, with perfect tits and a perfect waist and a perfect reputation for saving whales or pandas or penguins in between healing sick orphans in Somalia. Hm. I wonder…Is it wrong that it makes me feel better to know she’s probably a shitty human being like him?
His green eyes meet mine and an unusual feeling flutters through my system. “She was the runt of her litter. The weakest. Needed the most love. Just um…wanna make sure she ends up alright.”
The unmistakable ache in my chest causes me to suggest, “Well, we can share custody of Princess Pinky if you want.”
Ford tilts his head. “Share custody?”
“Yeah.” With a shrug of my own, I say, “We can come up with some sort of visitation system. Swap weekends.”
His hands fold together. “I can probably teach you some things you’ll need to know about raisin’ a hog.”
“Pig.”
He doesn’t resist the instinct to smile. I don’t fight the temptation to enjoy it despite the fact I know I should.
“Oh! And just to be clear, you don’t have to teach me anything. I have Google.”
“Was it Google who taught you how to use a fire extinguisher?”
The jab back drops my jaw.
Ford laughs and surrenders his hands. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist that one.”
I shake my head while trying not glare. “You’re lucky you’re hot. Otherwise I’d kick your ass out of my apartment for being a dick.”
My face flushes again at the realization I complimented as well as insulted him in the same breath. This is most likely why Daryl left. He probably went after someone who was more diverse in social practices than a computer geek like me.
His chuckle provides unexpected comfort. “Darlin’, I don’t know whether to say thank you or apologize….”
His light reaction takes me off guard. I’m not used to this. I’m more accustomed to being snapped at or chewed out for how I speak before thinking sometimes and for trying to ease the situation with a lame joke or shot of sarcasm. Looks included, Carol Ann lost someone amazing…And he has to be amazing. He’s been in my presence for less than ten minutes and I’ve barely been able to stop smiling. Oh shit. No. No. No more of those thoughts… But I mean come on. Who sounds sexy saying the word darling? His sex appeal is vastly bigger than Daryl’s.
A spring gust blows and my nose fills with a horrific smell. After a short gag, another wave of stench hits me. I lean my face down towards my arm pit getting a strong whiff of booze and pepperonis. Wow. It’s not enough I look like hell when Blue Jean Hottie knocks on my door, I have to smell awful too?
“I need a shower,” I sheepishly confess. “Can you watch Princess Pinky while I do that? We can talk about…pig things and who gets her when, afterwards.”
“I’d love to,” Ford instantly states.
Hearing the word off his lips presses mine together.
“Promise I won’t hog nap.”
The comment causes me to snicker, shake my head, and lead us back into my apartment.
Well, I guess there are worse ways to start the weekend. Discussing parental rights over a farm animal with an overly attractive male stranger who just happens to be in an equally screwed up relationship situation definitely isn’t too terrible. At least not yet…