I glared at him.
With a sigh, he got up, clasped my hand, and ushered me in the direction of the two gourd tables. Gourds of all shapes and sizes covered every bit of surface. Brooks led me to the end of one table and pointed at the gourd.
I turned it around and gasped.
He’d carved a woman with long hair, glasses, curled up with a book. And it was so obviously me.
“Brooks,” I breathed. “This is beautiful.”
“Yeah. It is,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
I looked at him—he was staring at me, his amber eyes soft with emotion.
“Ah, just the man I was looking for,” Gary Calhoun said as he approached. He stuck a number 1 blue ribbon to Brooks’ gourd. “You won the gourd-carving contest. Do you want your prize now?”
“I get a prize?” Brooks asked, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Of course,” Gary said. He looked over his shoulder. His wife strode toward us, and she carried something small and pink in her arms.
I wasn’t sure what it was until a little head popped up to reveal a pink snout.
My jaw dropped open. “Is that?—”
“A piglet,” Jo said as she deposited the little beast into my arms. “Our sow had an unexpected litter. This is the runt.”
I looked down at the piglet.
“You got a piglet?” Salem asked as she waddled toward us, Cas trekking behind her. “No fair!”
“You have Fig. Hadley has Tempest. Why can’t I have a piglet?” I looked at Jo. “Is it a boy or girl?”
“Girl,” Jo announced.
I looked at Brooks. “Can we keep her?”
“We don’t have a barn.”
“Oh no, she’s going to be a house pig,” I explained.
“I don’t know anything about keeping a piglet as a house pet,” Brooks said.
I clutched the piglet tighter in my arms.
“Guess I’ll have to figure it out,” Brooks muttered.
“She’s so cute,” I crooned.
“Don’t let her sleep in the bed,” Cas warned.
“Can I pet her?” Salem asked me.
I nodded.
Salem stroked the piglet’s head. “Aww she’s adorable. What are you going to name her?”
I looked at Brooks.
“You pick,” he said.
