Fitz is next to Annabel at the fence, his arms crossed and resting over the top of the pen, watching me with a smirk.

Ignoring him, I race for Begonia again, who skitters away and I end up running back and forth until I finally get close enough to leap onto her back and pull the dress over her head. “Take the picture!” I yell, holding on for dear life while Begonia tries to buck me off.

“Got it!” Annabel finally calls out.

I yank the dress off and fall back into the mud.

Begonia kicks her hooves into the dirt, spraying more mud at me before scurrying away.

“You’ve already lost, Fitzy.” Annabel holds up the phone in triumph.

“I know. I still don’t have the jersey either.” He reaches over the fence, twists a knob, and the gate swings open.

Of course. It’s just that easy.

I focus on the man striding toward Begonia, confidence swaggering in every step. “Why are you still doing this if you’re going to lose?”

He shrugs. “Can’t never could.”

My brows lift. I’ve heard the expression before, one uttered by every Southerner over fifty at one point or another.

Annabel laughs. “Don’t even get Fitz started. He doesn’t give up on anything. Ever. Even when defeat is staring him right in the face like a giant pig.”

“Well, it’s true. You can only fail if you stop trying.” His eyes are still focused on Begonia, who continues to trot back and forth, pacing the far end of the fence.

On nimble feet, he rushes at Begonia, but she skitters out of the way.

“But that doesn’t make sense. There’s no chance you’ll get Begonia in the dress and a picture in a jersey sometime in the next,” I glance down at my watch, “eighteen minutes. It’s a logistical impossibility.”

He’s still focused on the pig, who is once again running back and forth along the fence line. “I don’t care.”

I blink. I don’t understand his logic.

It’s confusing and yet . . . I’m weirdly impressed.

But should I be? Isn’t it a waste of effort? I would never keep going if I were in his situation.

What would it be like, to keep pushing no matter the obstacles in my way?

To have enough confidence that I wasn’t afraid to fail?

“Come on outta there, Reese,” Annabel calls. “Let’s get back to the library.” She waves an impatient hand at me.

I glance over at her and then back at Fitz. She’s right. It’s just a quick jaunt and I’ve won this round and the rights to sleeping in a quiet bed for the night.

Begonia squeals behind me and I turn in time to see Fitz tumble backward into the mud.

“I admire your dedication and perseverance,” I tell Fitz.

He stands to face me and underneath the splatter of dirt on his face, his eyes are gleaming, mouth tilted in a smile. So he remembers our conversation the night before.