Years of needing to stay on her feet no matter what had her quickly righting herself and widening her stance to make sure she wouldn’t fall again. She was just about to start heading forward when she looked up and saw one of the pigs making a beeline toward her, much more quickly than she could have ever believed possible for such a stocky animal. Its little hooves were powering through the mud and its curly tail was wagging.

The next thing she knew it was pushing between her legs and lifting her up off the ground. “Hey!” she exclaimed as the pig kept on moving through the mud with her stuck to its broad back. “What are you doing?”

But she already knew, didn’t she? The pig was having a fabulous time carrying her off through the pen...with all of its friends watching with eager eyes, probably vying for who would be next to mess with the total greenhorn.

And then, just as quickly as she’d been hoisted off the ground and onto the pig’s broad back, she was unceremoniously dumped on her rear in the mud with a hard splat.

She sat in the mud for several moments as she worked to get her breath back from where the ground—and the very mischievous pig—had knocked it out of her. Only, when she looked down at herself completely covered with mud, and thought about just how ridiculous she must have looked riding bareback on a pig, instead of getting upset she started to laugh.

Who knew working on a farm could be so crazy? So full of mishaps? Or that a bunch of stinky, unruly pigs would be the ones to get her laughing again? It reminded her of when she and her brother Gabe and twin sister Sophie would go out and make mud pies in the backyard after a storm when they were kids.

The sad truth was that Lori hadn’t felt like a kid in a very long time. Not until today, when the pigs had made any chance at being anything but a messy, muddy buddy of theirs an impossibility.

Of course, getting down to the pigs’ level only made her more interesting to them, especially to one of the babies who had started snuffling around at her face.

“Hey, cutie,” she told him, “maybe when you’re a little bigger you could sweep me off my feet, too.” She stroked his snout. “I have always loved a guy in pink with a little facial hair.”

She could have sworn he gave her a grin as she slipped and slid while getting back up on her feet. And as she went about her duties while singing a pop song that the pigs seemed to like despite her horribly out-of-tune voice, she made sure to keep her legs close together to stave off any more impromptu pig-riding trips around the pen.

* * *

Grayson could easily have spent the rest of the day focused on the new roof he was putting on the cottage, but he needed to check up on Lori. Not, he told himself, because he missed seeing her since breakfast, but because letting her work on his farm was like keeping a box of fireworks next to a roaring fire—you never knew when one little spark was going to light off the whole damned thing.

That was why he’d told her to work in the pigpen. How much damage could she possibly do there?

As he approached the pigpen from a distance, he couldn’t miss that she was covered in mud. Even though he figured that should have been the last straw for her, he could hear her singing in a godawful voice as she petted one of the pigs, her little bottom wiggling back and forth as she all but danced around in the mud.

He’d never met anyone like her before in his life—a city girl who would sing and dance in the mud with the pigs, rather than bailing on the hard, dirty work. With every passing second that she remained on his farm, he could feel her not just getting under his skin, but going even deeper. Just as she had the previous night when he’d heard her crying in bed.

God, he hoped she didn’t cry again tonight. Because if she did, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to keep from going to her and pulling her into his arms and kissing away those tears.

Grayson was about a hundred feet away from the pigpen when he saw something big and pink out of the corner of his eye down by his strawberry patch.

Oh no, had she left the gate open? One instruction—to make sure it latched securely—was the only thing she needed to follow. But had she done that?

He ran over to the big sow, hollering at her to get out of his strawberries, but the pig was too busy mowing down the neat and flourishing rows of fruit to look up in his direction. It was as if a rototiller had been driven over his strawberry plants, the very ones he’d been planning to load into boxes this week for his customers. It was a sweaty and difficult job corralling the sow, but ten minutes later he had her back where she belonged.

Lori was working with the hose, spraying down the pens, and clearly didn’t hear much above the sound of the water and her singing until he’d pushed the sow back into the pen.

When she finally caught sight of him, she was so surprised that she blasted him with the freezing cold water straight in the chest. The clear fury in his gaze had her quickly trying to turn it off, but her hands were muddy enough that it took her more than a few tries to finally get it. By then, Grayson wasn’t only pissed as hell, he was soaked, too.

“Sorry about that! You surprised me.” She looked down at herself, her clothes and skin liberally covered with mud. “If you want to turn the hose on me to make us even, that probably wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

She reached out to hand him the hose and he batted it out of her hand so that it landed in the mud with a splat.

“I knew you were trouble when you drove like a maniac up my driveway.” He pointed to his obliterated strawberry crop. “I told you to shut the goddamned gate. Look at what happened because you can’t be trusted to do even one little thing right.” Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear how harsh he was being, but Lori didn’t even flinch.

Instead she came right back at him with, “I did shut it!” She moved across the muddy pen with surprising grace and reached behind him to shut the gate again with a frown. “I did it just like this.”

She slipped just enough in the mud for her hip to push the gate, and as she reached out to steady herself the latch began to wobble. She pushed a little harder and it came completely loose so that the gate popped open.

“See?” She turned to him, her beautiful face full of righteous indignation. “I told you I closed it.”

Feeling like a total ass, he waited for her to demand an apology from him. But she didn’t, which only made things worse. Probably because she didn’t think he was capable of making one.

And she was right. He couldn’t seem to find the words he should be saying to her. Instead, he told her, “I need something from the hardware store. Go wash up and I’ll take you into town to pick up some boots.”