Page 25 of The County Fair Queen

"What's wrong with marigolds?" Preston said. "I think they're pretty."

"So do I, Daddy," Jordan said, dreamily.

"I ain't your damn daddy."

I was going to be sick. I was going to have a heart attack and die right there in Rivers Rivera's back yard. Jordan was staring at my father like a groom at the altar, watching the man of his dreams approach. I took Aunt Lurlene's hand and tried to lead her forward, but she gasped, tearing my attention away from the task at hand. When I turned around, arching an eyebrow at her, she was still staring at the damn flowers.

"Heavens to Betsy, are those mums?" She looked up into my eyes, and seemed grief-stricken. "Has he no shame?" I tugged harder, my grip insistent. If we stood out there lamenting about his floral selection, we'd be there all night, and I didn't want to spend a single second longer than I had to at Rivers' house.

The second I lightly rapped my knuckles against the glass, a pink-skinned, domestic terrorist glared at us. It lunged forward, banging its snout against the glass. The creature's cries were both triggering and terrifying, as foam and saliva drooled out of the sides of its mouth. It didn't take me long to realize I would not be leaving the porch with my life. In less than five seconds, I was at peace with it. I just hoped his teeth would slice through my carotid artery rather than tear me limb from limb, providing me a peaceful passing from this existence to the next.

Falling back, I crashed against the deck, banging the back of my head against Rivers' poorly placed grill. It stung like a son of a bitch, sending a dull pain rushing across the back of my skull. There was another sharp pain in my ass, but it wasn't a lascivious pain, unfortunately. I could have coped with that. No, it was a piercing pain, like something had punctured my skin. Reaching beneath me, I pulled back a pair of tongs.

"I've been stabbed! What kind of monster leaves charred tongs just lying about?" I cried, wincing in pain.

The sliding door cracked open with a high-pitched squeal. Rivers wedged through the narrow gap, holding the feral beast at bay with his foot. Once the door was shut, he rushed toward me, crashing down onto his knees at my side. He lifted me, resting my head on his thigh.

"You're okay, Firecracker. You're going to be just fine," he promised shakily.

"Of course, I'm fine," I said, though I wasn't too sure. My head was aching something awful, and my butt cheek felt like it was on fire. Rivers stroked my knee, and I reached out, slapping it away. "Hands to yourself, Rivera."

"Just trying to help. Can you stand up?"

"If I say no, are you going to carry me?"

"What happened?" Rivers asked Jordan, as I slapped his hand away a second time.

"He tripped and hit the back of his head. I'm pretty sure he was impaled on those tongs, as well."

Rivers' fingers threaded through my hair until his hand rested against the back of my head. I tried to scoot away from him, but he placed his hand on my chest and frowned.

"Careful," he said in a hushed voice. "You could have a concussion. Don't want you hurting yourself any more than you already have."

"I don't need you to fuss over me. I'm fine."

Jordan groaned, stomping toward us and grabbing me by the wrist. He jerked me up from the deck and rolled his eyes at Rivers. "He's not an invalid, he just bumped his head. I'd be more worried about the fact that he's stabbed himself in the ass." He leaned down and picked up the tongs. They were covered in black soot and didn't look remotely sanitary. "He's going to need a tetanus shot after this, isn't he?"

"He might," Rivers admitted. "I'm really sorry, Firecracker. When we're done here, I can take you down to TallulahMemorial and wait with you." He reached for me, running his hand across my butt where his tongs had impaled me.

"What the fuck? You can't just play grab-ass without warning."

"So, it's alright to play with it as long as he warns you?" Jordan said.

"I'm putting rat poison in your oatmeal tomorrow."

"I really am worried about your butt, Firecracker," Rivers said.

"My ass is of no concern to you."

For some reason, Rivers ran his tongue across his lips. "Maybe he's right. Maybe we ought to get you down to the hospital so they can give you a shot."

"I don't need a shot," I said, stepping away from him. The back of my head throbbed, and I figured the pain might subside a bit if I tried to walk it off. Rivers clearly wasn't a fan of the idea, as he just grabbed me by the wrist and jerked me back down to the ground, banging my head on his thigh. "Jesus Christ! Are you trying to make this worse?" I slapped his hand away. "Go put that damn dog up so we can get this show on the road. The sooner we're done here, the sooner I can go home and sedate the pain away."

"Dog?" Rivers glanced at my assistant. "Jordan, I think you might be right about the concussion."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I said.

"That's not a dog, it's a pig. Beau's pig,” Rivers said. “Truth be told, I wasn't too fond of the idea of him adopting one. He's been helping out at Mr. Monte's pork ranch ever since I let him watch that movieBabe. He fell in love with the little guy."

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