I yanked the rope out of his hand, scoffing with enough indignation to kick up a dust storm. “You are to blame for being a dang coward. Prancing around with Fancy Girl in public while pretending Miss Nobody doesn’t exist.” I tapped my damp chest just above the tank top clinging to my skin. The thin top and short cutoffs suddenly made me feel exposed and vulnerable. Even though it was sweltering in that moment, I longed for a long coat with a hood.

Vance took a step toward me and actually growled. “Austin.” My name formed into a reprimand leaving his frowning lips. “There is no pretending you don’t exist. You’re all I think about. I’ve missed you.”

A truck zoomed by, beeping the horn. Vance threw his hand up and waved but did a poor job containing a grimace. “Can’t we go up to the house and have a talk?”

“I ain’t gonna get caught in the middle of this farce, so the best thing you can do is go on back to your mansion and Malorie.” I tried making a hasty getaway up the drive but the blame pig ruined my effort by digging her hoofed heels in and refusing to cooperate.

“At least let me give you a lift.”

“Nah. We’re good.” I tugged on the rope, but the squirmy little thing wouldn’t budge.

He motioned down the dirt drive. The house was so far down the lane it wasn’t even visible from the road. “That’s a long way to make this little darlin’ walk.” Ignoring my protests, he gathered the pig in his arms and walked over to his car, fumbling to open the passenger door while keeping a grip on the squirming animal, and motioned for me to get in.

With a whole lot of reluctance, I did. He placed the pig on my lap and closed the door. I scanned the interior. Leather seats, lots of buttons and knobs, and clean as a whistle. It reminded me of the car show Pa took us to in the spring where all those fancy cars were on display. No doubt about it, this car was attractive. And the scent? Yeah, even better. My limo held a persistent smell of carnations no matter how much my smelly gang rode around in it with the windows down. And the diesel truck stank as a diesel truck should, exhaust fumes and sweat. Not this sports car. Nope. I was surrounded by the alluring scent of Vance’s cologne and new leather, marred only by a hint of pig. My eyes landed on a dark bottle wedged inside a cup holder. I plucked it up and read the label. Halston. A quick sniff confirmed it was Vance Cumberland in a bottle.