Page 85 of Extreme Romancing in Idaho

“That was fun.” She looked like a nymph with her mischievous grin.

I turned to find Angie, covered in mud, by my side.

“I had no idea this is what you had planned. Those farmers are going to be so mad.” She rubbed the drying mud from her eyes and cheeks, creating a pale mask in the dark sludge. “What good is it to release pigs into the soccer field?”

“To make a statement. Maybe after this debacle, they won’t do pig wrestling next year.”

The corners of her mouth lifted into a smile, and she laughed. The late afternoon sun descended closer to the horizon, and the breeze picked up, sending goosebumps all over my body, whether from the cooling air or from the fact that I made her laugh, I didn’t know.

Maddie pointed at something beyond the field. “Uh–oh.”

Following her gaze, I saw Renee, Chuck, and Pedro headed our way. Though Renee looked less than pleased, she had a smirk on her face, which gave me the impression she’d go easy on Maddie.

I pushed the little girl toward her guardian, leaving a muddy handprint on her otherwise clean, oversized white shirt. “If you get into too much trouble, I’ll come over and beg for your freedom.”

Maddie started toward Renee, paused, then ran back to me. Slowing to a stop about two feet in front of me, she wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking about hugging you, but you’re dirty. Thank you for helping the pigs, Remington James the Third.” With her proclamation finished, she returned to Renee.

Angie let out a low whistle next to my ear. “Wow, that’s impressive. Nobody has gained Maddie’s trust quite that quickly—except maybe Lili.”

“It’s all for the shared love of pigs.” I placed a hand melodramatically over my heart. The mud dried unevenly over my skin, giving me a camo appearance. And she looked the same, her blonde hair now dirt colored.

“Speaking of the pigs we just freed.” She tapped my shoulder and pointed to someone behind me. “That is one angry mayor headed our way.”

Rex towered over the crowd, his deep-mahogany bald head glinting in the sun. He sliced through the chaos, keeping his fixed stare on us.

Seeing him made me feel a little bad for what I’d done, though not enough to regret it. “Do you suppose we should help get the pigs into the trailer?”

“Nope.”

She grabbed my hand, and though dirt rubbed between our palms, I reveled in the warmth of her soft hand in mine.

“I suggest we leave. Right now.” She tugged me toward the truck.

Pushing through the crowd, we practically sprinted the rest of the way, leaving behind the soccer fields and the churning mass of people accompanied by the occasional squeal from the herd of pigs.

I climbed in and started my truck. “The little guys will be okay, won’t they?” My back tires peeled against the gravel in the parking lot.

“They’ll be fine. Marv will get them wrangled back in his trailer, or they’ll make it to the Russian olive forest and live as wild free pigs.” She leaned her head on the headrest, chuckled, and closed her eyes. She sniffed at the air. “We stink. Turn right here, and we can hose off at the fairgrounds.”

I left the engine running while we sprayed as much of the pig excrement and mud off our clothes. We shrieked like kids at a water park, spraying each other until most of the filth was removed. I wrapped a towel around Angie and opened her door. She hopped in, and I climbed behind the wheel, reticent for our day together to come to a close.

Clouds painted orange and pink by the setting sun stretched before us for miles. Wind flowed through my open window and buffeted my wet shirt as we drove along the fields I’d become well acquainted with. Knee-high corn plants flashed past the truck, and the air smelled of the freshly cut hayfield on the right. A sense of accomplishment filled me—one like I’d never experienced before.

Each of those corn plants had been put there by Angie and me, the hay I harvested. If only I could make a living as a farmer, then I’d tell my family to get lost and keep doing this with Angie daily. But as evidenced by Tony, family farms couldn’t compete against the corporate farms controlling crop prices, or the tempting offers of land developers.

“Did pig wrestling help you feel better … after … you know …?” I looked over to Angie, my words coming out in a jumbled mess. Her damp, white shirt clung to her body, showing the outline of her navy swimming suit underneath. Somehow, this was even more alluring than when she’d stood before me with just her swimming suit on.

She turned to me. “I thought I was going to die in that river.” Then, she brushed off her dark words with a laugh. “But I didn’t. Although, I might have a new fear of water.”

“You mean respect, not fear, right? Like with wasps?” I continued without giving her a chance to say anything. “Having a healthy respect for something keeps you alive but doesn’t keep you from enjoying life.”

Her only response was a soft sigh or a long exhale. I let the quiet settle in around us as the last rays of the sun illuminated the horizon. I turned into the neighborhood, taking the route to my model home.

Angie shot me a questioning glance.

“I forgot some tools in my garage. I thought I’d stop by and pick them up before I dropped you off at your house.”

“Thank you,” she said as my house came into view.

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