Page 54 of The County Fair Queen

Team Firecracker assembled at Fletcher Family Vineyard shortly before sunset the next evening. As Aunt Lurlene busied herself preparing teas and coffees, Jordan was clacking away at his tablet's keyboard, trying to find intel on this whole piglet-peddling operation. At first, he'd told me information on Mr. Monte was shrouded in so much secrecy, smoke, and mirrors, that finding their names had proved to be impossible. When I'd jerked his tablet out of his hand and saw he'd simply been perving over a shirtless picture of my father he'd stolen from Facebook, he quickly changed his tune. The list of issues that would need to be addressed once we returned to London was already a mile long, so I chose to let this one slide.

Earlier in the day, I'd convinced Rivers to allow Brenda/Carole to pick up Beau under the guise of filming a one-on-one confessional for the docuseries. Luckily, Rivers had beenbusy with Muscadine Madness festivities, so we had Beau all to ourselves.

The public plea/public service announcement had been Brenda/Carole's idea. She'd framed it as my opportunity to become a bit of a philanthropist. She even said I might win a Presidential Medal of Freedom when this was all said and done. How could I turn that down?

Quite easily, actually.

At first, I'd balked at the idea, telling her that getting on Rivers' bad side would never be a part of my Tallulah, Texas bucket list. Once she'd shown me a video of little piglets being abused by factory farmers, I quickly changed my mind. The actions depicted in the clip may not have transpired at Mr. Monte's farm, but the idea of any pig—even psychopathic Fudge Rivera—being punched, kicked, hung, or shot in the face at point blank range, did not sit well with me. I just hoped Rivers would be able to see it that way once the proverbial pig shit hit the fan.

We'd spent an hour putting together fliers and making signs for demonstrators. I didn't like the thought of lying to Rivers or working with Beau behind his back, but I couldn't just sit back and do nothing. I could see so much of myself in the boy. He was a sassy little lionheart, still untarnished by the bitterness of this world. I could see it in the gentleness of his touch when he was around Fudge or Mr. Papadopoulos. The spark in his heart was bright enough to illuminate the darkness with ease. I knew what it was like to have that. And I knew what it was like to have it taken from you.

Preston was kicked back in the recliner reading an old Danielle Steel novel, not helping in the slightest. I marched toward him, ripping the book out of his hand and throwing it into the unlit fireplace.

"I was reading that!"

"Not anymore, you're not," I said, my eyes narrowed into the thinnest of slits. "What did I tell you?" He huffed, crossing his arms against his chest while making no effort to move. "Answer me."

"I ain't saying a damn thing until you give me back my damn book. I was about to find out if Zoya—"

"Do you really think I give a damn that you're trying to get your rocks off to cishet love scenes? Christ on the cross, we're in there saving lives, and you're out here reading a romance novel. Would it kill you to tear yourself away from your over-inflated sense of ego long enough to pitch in? Seriously, I'll settle for the bare minimum at this point."

Jordan slowly shuffled into the room, arching an eyebrow at us. "What the hell is going on?"

"You're not saving lives," Preston said, ignoring Jordan completely, much to his annoyance. "You're planning a riot behind Rivers' back. If you think I'm getting roped into this foolishness, you're high."

"My edible hasn't fully kicked in yet," I countered. "And we're not staging a riot, we're filming a public service announcement. There's a difference."

"They both end with your ass getting thrown in jail, and me having to bail you out. Well, I'll tell you something for nothing. I ain't coming to get you. As for you," he said, frowning at Jordan. "You ain't taking part in this. So help me, if I have to pay your bond, I'll have you scrubbing these floors with a toothbrush from sunup to sundown. You hear me?"

"What I'm hearing," Jordan said, quite dreamily, might I add. "Is that you want me on my hands and knees… 'scrubbing floors.'"

Preston scoffed as a trail of heat spread across his cheeks.

"So you'll pay his bail, but not mine? In what world does that make sense?" I asked. Unfortunately, he was too busy side-eyeing Jordan and running his tongue across his lips to respond. This wasn't the time or place for inappropriate flirtation. I snapped my fingers, trying to get their attention. "Answer the question. What world?"

"In the world where my son's set out to turn this town into a laughingstock. You're trying to manufacture drama for this damn show of yours. A show some of us didn't want to take part in in the first place. And what happens when Rivers spots you tomorrow morning? You think he's going to give you a pat on the back?" He reached for me, gently grabbing my wrist. "You said you wanted to fix this thing between us, remember?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"If we're gonna fix this, we're gonna have to put in the effort. To start, a little fatherly advice: you care about the man. If you go behind his back like this, it could ruin you two. You're going against his wishes, and he's going to see it as an attack. What's worse, you're dragging his son into the mix. Please, Phillip. Don't do this."

All my life I'd waited for a talk like this. For him to show the slightest interest in me. To hear more than a handful of words meant to temporarily placate me. And, being Preston Fletcher, of course, he'd chosen the worst possible moment to show a bit of parental care. Of fucking course.

"I'm doing thisforBeau. You didn't see how torn up he was about it. You didn't have to sit there and hold him while he was crying. He cares about these stupid little piglets. If Riv doesn't want to have anything to do with me when this is all over, then that's on him." I peered over my shoulder at Beau. He was holding a pig portrait he'd drawn up for Aunt Lurlene to see. As she hemmed and hawed over it, a painful twinge pinched at my heartstrings. I'd been living in the dark for so long, I'd almost forgotten how nice it felt to stand in the light. To see hope blossom right before my very eyes. Beau Rivera was a gemflickering against the sun, reflecting out joy in colorful rays. I didn't want anyone to snuff out that light.

"You love him," Preston mused, bringing a smile to my face.

I nodded. "Who wouldn't? Just look at him."

"No," Preston said, standing up from his chair and resting a hand on my shoulder. "Rivers."

I jerked my head in his direction, my mouth hanging open like someone had just slapped me. "Don't be ridiculous. I've known him for less than two weeks."

"You've known him since you were kids," he argued. "And I didn't say I thought it made sense. It's just a fact. You're smitten with him. The way you act around him, you'd think he hung the damn moon in your honor. You're willing to risk all that?"

"There's no risk," I said, though the words didn't feel even remotely truthful. "I'm leaving in a few days, anyway. I'll probably never even see him again. He'll find himself a nice man or woman, and these last two weeks will barely even be a blip on his radar. But Beau will know I cared. God knows why, but he seems to think I'm a bit of an icon. This is my chance to do something iconic for him." I risked a glance in my father's direction. "I'd like for you to be there for me. Please, Preston?"

He paused, considering my request. After a moment of reflective silence, he gave me a nod. "I still think it's just about the most asinine plan I've ever heard, but if it means this much to you, I'll be there for you. I don't like it, but I'll be there."

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