Page 32 of Gerard

He landed on his ass in the smelly quagmire, holding the handgun and flashlight above the mud.

Once the hog was inside the pen, Bernie swung the gate shut, secured it and moved toward Gerard. “Are you all right?”

He held up his hand. “Don’t come closer. This stuff is like quicksand. Once you’re in it, the suction won’t let go.”

Too late. Bernie had already placed one of her feet in the muck. When she tried to pull it out, her foot came out of the boot.

Gerard rocked to his feet and reached out to steady Bernie. He wasn’t quite close enough to catch her as she teetered on one leg.

She swayed, seemed to get her balance and then fell to her hands and knees. “Blast it.”

Giving up on his boots, Gerard tucked his handgun in one of his pockets and the flashlight in the other.

With his hands free, he tramped through the muck barefooted and helped Bernie to an upright position.

“Leave the boots,” he said.

“I can’t do that,” she said. “They’re my good mud boots.”

“Yes, you can. I’m going to lift you,” he said. “Leave the boots. I’ll retrieve them after I get you out of this mess.”

He bent, scooped her up into his arms and carried her one trudging step at a time past the mud to a dry patch of ground, where he set her on her feet.

Back into the slew, he waded and shined his flashlight around until he found her boots. He worked at them until he freed them from the mud and carried them back to Bernie.

Once more, he waded back into the slew, found his boots, freed them and made his way out of the muck to where Bernie waited. Covered in mud from head to toe, she was a mess.

A very cute mess.

If not for the stench, he might have kissed her.

She stared at the corral panels in the starlight. One of the panels was lying on the ground. “I don’t think the pigs knocked that panel down.”

Gerard shined his flashlight at the portable fence panels. The metal clamps that had held them together lay on the ground nearby. “I don’t know many pigs that can work a wrench or a screwdriver.”

“Which means someone let them out. Like someone let Penelope out last night.” Bernie turned toward the watermelon patch. “Why would someone let the pigs out?”

“Look what Penelope did in a few short hours,” Gerard pointed out. “If Howey and Gandolf hadn’t raised the alarm, just think what all those pigs would’ve done to the watermelons.”

Bernie nodded. “I lost a lot just to Penelope. I rely on my crops to bring in enough money to cover my bills for the year. Without that money, I’d have to find a job. To find a job, I’d have to go to a city. I couldn’t run Bellamy Acres. I couldn’t take care of the animals. This place would fall into disrepair. I could lose it if I couldn’t pay the taxes on it.”

“Do you think someone is trying to sabotage you?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. If someone is just pranking me...I’m not laughing.”

“Come on,” he said. “It might take a dozen showers and strong soap to get the smell out by morning.”

“No kidding.” Bernie stared at him in the light from the stars overhead. “Wow. Do I look as bad as you?”

“You have one bare spot free of mud.” His lips twitched as he reached out to touch a finger to the tip of her nose, leaving a smudge of mud. “There. Got you covered.”

She laughed and then coughed. “The sooner we get back to the house, the sooner we can rinse this nastiness off.”

“I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry.” He offered her his arm. “People pay for mud masks, don’t they?”

Bernie laughed and slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. “I’m willing to bet they don’t smell like this.”

As Gerard walked with Bernie back to the house, he fought to focus on the pigs, not how sexy she was when she laughed—even covered in muck.