Chapter 1
Chapter One
Marcie
No!
No… no… no…
This wasn’t happening, I had to be seeing things. This was a nightmare.
That was it!
It was a nightmare. I just needed to open my eyes and all this would be over and my life would be all shiny tinsel and glittery snowflakes. Right?
Right!
Oh, but first, I had to close my eyes before I could open them.
I squeezed my eyes shut until all I could see was absolute nothingness.
I counted to three, then decided ten would be better and added seven more Mississippis.
When I hit double digits, I left one eye shut and barely lifted the lid of my other just to take the tiniest peek.
At the sight before me, I moaned and slammed it shut again.
It would just take a teensy bit longer and then—
“Marcella Christine McKinley!”
I must have jumped two feet off the ground as the roar washed over me.
That was most definitely a sound heard in a nightmare and certainly not the soft, sweet, docile tone of a loving Daddy.
I chanced a brain aneurism by squeezing my eyes even tighter, holding my breath, digging my fingernails into my palms as I crossed my wrists and then my ankles in fervent hope that, by the time I opened my eyes again, all the elves in the North Pole had arrived to save me from the problematic proliferation of plump pink porcine packages currently covering every single flat surface in the kitchen.
“Newsflash, little girl. No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how many times you click your heels together and chant, you’re already home. Now, breathe before you pass out, open your eyes and explain to me why our kitchen has turned into a box store.”
Where was an elf when you really needed one?
Silly, they’re sitting on shelves, of course.
“Silly? You think this is…”
My eyes flew open to discover I hadn’t been having a nightmare. I’d been having a daymare! Evidently, I’d also been talking out loud.
“You spanked me!”
“I beg to differ. I simply got your attention. More importantly, no, I do not find anything about this the least bit silly.” He paused to flip back the top of the only box I’d opened.
His brow furrowed as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.
When he lifted an item from the interior, the fact that those lines remained just as prominent didn’t bode well. “What in the world is this?”
Was that a trick question?
“Um, a pig?”
Those eyes… I could now say I knew exactly how poor Oliver must have felt when asking for more porridge from that grumpy old man at the workhouse.
“You know, like Wilbur or Babe or Porky? Well, I guess they’re more like Piglet because they are—"
“I’m well aware it’s a pig, young lady.”
Uh oh, he called me ’young lady’.
I mentally shushed Ms. Snarky so I could concentrate on what else he was saying.
“Are you telling me all of these boxes are full of pigs?”
“Well, yes, but they’re not real pigs. They’re not oinking or…” Wow, who knew those lines could deepen? I was pretty sure I could plant some seeds in those furrows and something would grow.
Right. If you’re lucky it will be grain for all the pigs.
I almost managed to stop the giggle that threatened to escape at the image of my Daddy’s forehead sprouting with golden sheaves of wheat. Almost being the operative word.
“You find this amusing?”
“Um, nooo…”
Okay, even I could admit that sounded like more of a question than an answer.
Daddy’s brow smoothed as he shook his head, looking around again.
It wasn’t like I could even attempt to deny the boxes’ contents.
Not when a smiling pig’s face emblazoned each side of every box.
Seeing one porky little pig’s smiling face was undeniably cute, but when a zillion pairs of piggie eyes were staring at you, even the cutest piglet became a bit unnerving.
“I’m waiting.”
“Huh?” I was struggling to tear my eyes off the boxes and back to my Daddy. He didn’t look any happier with my inability to keep up. “I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m not ignoring you. I-I was just thinking.”
“Perfect, because I simply can’t wait to hear why this room has been turned from a state-of-the-art chef’s kitchen to a… a pig sty.”
I rolled my eyes. “Daddeeee, that is silly. A pig sty is all mud and yuckiness. As you can see, all these little piggies are sweet pink perfection. Not a speck of ick on them. They’re brand spanking new.”
Was it my imagination or had his eyes just dropped south about three feet?
Perhaps using a different descriptive might have kept his attention on your face and not your butt.
Didn’t you just love it when your inner voice spoke up after you made some situation worse? Fat lot of good that would do me now.
Daddy had this way of lifting his right eyebrow that had magic powers.
It always made my heart skip a beat and my thigh muscles tighten in an attempt to keep the arousal from dripping down them.
Of course, my verbalizing the “S” word also had my buttocks clenching as the skin across them crawled.
It was like he spoke volumes without uttering a single syllable. Definitely time to switch gears.
“It wasn’t my fault…”
His eyebrow rose higher.
“Okay, I guess it’s a little bit my fault, but only because I wanted to make the Christmas party special.”
“Did our guest list expand to include the entire city…” The eyebrow that had lowered shot right back to the stratosphere when what had to be the millionth tower of boxes appeared in the doorway. “Make that the whole state.”
“No!” I moaned. “There can’t be more!”
“This is the last of them.” This came from Daniel who stuck his head around the tower to shoot a glance around the room. “Um, where do you want these?”
“Back in your van!” I practically shouted.
He chuckled. “Sorry, I’m not in charge of returns, just deliveries.”
Despite his immense load, he easily dodged around me where I’d planted myself in front of the kitchen island, my feet spread apart and my arms straight out at my sides as if I were some massive barrier keeping the invading forces at bay.
Dan managed to balance the boxes in one arm while carefully nudging an exact replica pile of boxes a few inches over to the left, its neighboring tower a few inches to the right, and then smoothly slid the newest platoon of piggies into the space.
For some inexplicable reason, I saw a giant wooden horse at the gates of ancient Troy instead of yet another tower of cardboard in a modern-day kitchen.
A sharp clap jerked me back to the twenty-first century to see Daniel dusting his hands off in some sort of victorious salute.
“See, there’s always room for one more.”
“One?” I huffed. “If it were only one, I’d kiss you. But obviously one of us can’t count.”
Dan chuckled again. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. But I do need your signature, if you don’t mind.” He pulled a clipboard out of the back waistband of his jeans and presented it with a flourish. The clip securely held the order form and an invoice for my catastrophic goof up.
“Seriously, are pigs the only item Celeste carries?” I huffed when he tapped the paper on the line where I was to sign.
As if the pig-shaped sticky flag waving its stupidly cute curly little tail wasn’t enough to grab one’s attention.
Granted, it was a teensy bit adorable, but I needed to keep my attention on the problem at hand.
The next salvo in my battle came to me and I whipped my hands behind me.
“What if I don’t sign? Then you’ll have to take them back, right? ”
“Afraid not. And, hey, it’s not like you didn’t get quite a deal.
If you’ll check your receipt, I believe you received a pretty hefty discount in appreciation for the size of the order.
Which I’m pretty sure came with an all-sales-final stamp.
” And in case I couldn’t see those exact words emblazoned in red ink right below that piggy flag’s hooves, he made sure to point it out.
“Yep, it’s right here. Though, I can say this is the first time I’ve delivered this many piglets at one time and to a single place. ”
“There’s got to be a mistake somewhere. I mean, I love all things pink and that includes pigs, but seriously, there’s got to be a zillion here!”
The clipboard was taken, not by me, but by my Daddy. He flipped through the pages and then looked around the room as if doing calculations in his head. Finally, he turned his gaze on me. “I think your count is off…”
Victory is ours!
“See! I told you! It’s a mistake!”
“It’s not a zillion, but it is definitely ten thousand.”
“What! That can’t be right!” When he held out the clipboard, I had no choice but to take it. I mimicked his moves and flipped through the pages, but all I really needed to see was the number at the bottom of the sheet.
“No, it’s not. It’s only five thousand.” I tapped my nail against the number while turning the board toward him, “See?”
“Babygirl, while that is definitely a number, it’s not the one I’m referring to. See the little hyphen in front of that number?”
“Ummm…”
“This hyphen.” Dan tapped his pinkie finger on the page.
I prided myself on not biting it off, choosing to nod instead while answering, “Yes, Sir.”
“That indicates the discount Celeste gave you. Look further down at the next number, and you’ll see the ten thousand I’m referring to.”
I so did not want to drop my eyes, but it was too late. Reading upside down or not, I couldn’t miss it if I’d tried, not with Dan’s oh so not helpful assistance. How I managed to nod and swallow hard at the same time was a mystery, but I managed.
“That is the price you’ll be paying for the privilege of taking possession of”—he waited as Dan’s finger slid higher to tap another number—“ten thousand little porkers.”