Faking It with my Billionaire Grump

12. Jake

12

Jake

Tilly clambers over the pen, and I watch with delight as she lands in the thick mud. She turns back and scowls at me, but I nod toward the piglets.

“Any one will do. They’re all from the same litter.”

I’d like to say I’m holding back my smirk, but I just don’t have the willpower. I’d pay good money for what’s about to happen, but instead, I get to watch it for free.

Tentatively, she moves forward, clearly not sure how to approach them.

“They won’t hurt you, Tilly,” I call out.

“No, but I might hurt you when I get out of here,” she spits back.

The piglets scatter at her approach, and leaning forward with her arms outstretched, Tilly runs toward the nearest pig. It squeals and runs away from her, as do all the others. The pen isn’t huge, but it’s big enough to give them room to escape.

She tries again, but again, they scatter in every direction.

“Is there a way I’m supposed to do this?” she yells.

“Just try to grab one,” I call, pretending to sound encouraging.

She breaks into a run and seeing an outlier, she goes for it, but as she turns, her foot slips, and she lands with a mighty splatter in the mud.

“Argh,” she squeals.

At this point, I’m now chuckling alongside the men who remain standing beside me.

She pushes herself to her feet, flinging mud from her hands. Her overalls are now covered, as is the whole of her right leg.

“Funny, huh?” She glares at me. She then flicks her arm in my direction, and I barely dodge a clump of mud that comes flying toward me.

She goes at it again, chasing the nearest piglet. She nearly gets it, too, but it runs between her legs; spinning to get hold of it, she falls flat on her face.

The men beside me are now in an uproar, and there’s a crowd gathering behind us. She’s like a circus spectacle, a performing monkey or a clown.

She pushes herself back up and continues the chase. There are cheers coming from behind me every time she gets close, battling with men yelling instructions at her from every direction. It’s very loud, and I can’t imagine she can hear a single voice.

The man beside me belly laughs and then says, “Doesn’t she know there’s a guy who’ll do that for her?”

“Nope,” I say with a wink.

“Oh, Jake. You’re a bad ‘un,” he chortles.

This is good old country fun. The kind Tilly used to enjoy, once upon a time. This is the girl I grew up with. The girl I remember. However, she doesn’t seem to be having a great time, and when she loses her balance again, falling flat on her backside, she just sits there, clearly giving up. She does look like a mess—her face covered in mud, her hair plastered to her face, and only small parts of her clothing still clean. I suppose it’s a saving grace that she has most of her long chestnut hair tied in a braid.

But she also looks pretty upset, and I realize she’s probably had enough. Maybe I didn’t think this through. I certainly didn’t expect every farmer in the county to come and watch her make a fool of herself. It was meant to just be a bit of fun.

I vault over the pen and head over to her.

“Come on,” I say, holding out my hand.

She places her mud-covered hand in mind, and I pull her to her feet. A great roar of applause erupts from the gathered crowd, but this time, I don’t smile.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Next time, you can get your own darned piglet,” she spits.

Bending at the knee, I hook my arms under her legs and lift her up. She wraps her arms around my neck, smelling all earthy, among other things. She’s lighter than I remember. But then, I also think she’s more slight than I remember. It has occurred to me that this thing with her ex is stressing her out. She always did drop pounds when she got stressed.

When I get her to the fence, I gently lift her over it, making sure she’s balanced on her two feet.

“Well done, girl,” someone shouts. “You nearly had him.”

“You look great,” someone else hollers.

I’m surprised to see a slight smile dancing at her lips, and when I vault over the fence and stand beside her, I say, “Right. I think that’s enough market for one day.”

When we get to the truck, there’s a guy putting the piglet in the back. It’s been boxed, and while it doesn’t seem happy right now, I know it’s going to love its new home.

“That’s him in, Jake,” Harry says. He turns to Tilly, who’s standing beside me, and grins. “You must be eager to get back into the country life, Tilly. Only a madman would have tried to catch those piglets himself.”

I glare at Harry, shaking my head and trying to get him to shut up, but Harry doesn’t catch on.

“What?” Tilly says. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the guys would have gotten the piglet for you. Didn’t you know that?”

Tilly spins around and glares at me. “No, Harry,” she barks. “I did not know that.”

Harry, now realizing he’s opened his big mouth, says a hurried farewell and scurries away. A minute later, I feel Tilly’s hand battering down on my arm, punching me after each word.

“You. Made. Me. Go. In. There. When. There. Was. Someone. Else. Who. Could. Do. It?”

I’m laughing while trying to lightly defend myself. I’m far stronger than her, so I have to be careful.

“I didn’t know,” I lie, chuckling as I say it.

“You. Liar.” She continues with the punches. “You’re. A. Downright. Rotten. Liar.”

“Alright. Alright. I surrender,” I laugh.

“Look at the state of me!” she squeals. “I’m an absolute mess.”

“It’s only a bit of mud. It won’t kill you,” I say, taking her by the arm and leading her to the passenger side of the truck.

When I’ve opened the door, I gently shove her in. I don’t care that she gets mud all over my seats. This truck has seen far worse than a bit of dirt.

I round the truck and jump into the driver’s seat.

“I can’t believe you did that to me. Everyone was watching. You stood there and let me make a complete fool out of myself,” she continued.

I fear I’m going to have to listen to this for most of the way home, and though I hate being wrong, I’m not particularly thrilled with being right on this occasion, because that’s exactly what she does.

Half an hour later, my ears are ringing, and I can’t wait to get her out of the truck. Was it worth it? I’m still not sure, though I’ll have the memory of her sliding around a pigpen safely tucked away in my memories for the rest of my life, so maybe.

“You need a shower,” I say when I get to the passenger side. “Come on. Out, before you smell up my truck anymore.”

“No,” she says, folding her hands over her chest like a child. “I’m not moving. I’m going to stay here and smell up your truck for as long as I want.”

“Fine,” I say, slamming the door closed again. “Stay there. See if I care.”

I head toward the house. Once inside, I take the steps two at a time and take a right into my bedroom. It’s the only room with an ensuite. I could have put bathrooms in the other bedrooms, but seeing as I’m the only one who lives here, I’ve never seen the point.

From the closet, I get two huge, fluffy towels and drape them over the warm radiator in the bathroom. I then go to my dresser and pick out a t-shirt, some socks, and a pair of sweatpants. They’ll be huge on her, but I don’t have anything else. At least when she finally finishes having her tantrum, everything will be ready for her.

But as I reach the last step on my way down the stairs, Tilly’s standing there in the hallway, the mud beginning to dry on her face.

“Where is it?” she demands.

“Top of the stairs, first door on the right.”

She scowls at me before storming past me. I then hear her thumping up the stairs. I’m sure she’s doing it on purpose. Like I said, she doesn’t really weigh that much.

“Throw your clothes down and I’ll put them in the washer.”

She doesn’t answer, and a second later, I hear my bedroom door slam shut.

Okay, then.