HAPPY PANTS CAFE (THE HAPPY PANTS SERIES) by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Page B

covered in shit, Harp. Really? Is this a moment to indulge in fantasies of being hot stuff?
    Probably not.
    She moved to get up. “I can help myself into the house and get some ice, thank you very much.” She wobbled a bit and steadied herself against the gate.
    “Are you sure you’re okay?” Austin asked.
    She nodded. “Yes. And don’t talk to me.” Jerk made her fall. That was the second time today, too. What was with that, anyway? It seemed he and Harper were a disaster waiting to happen.
    “I’ll take you into the kitchen,” said Juan.
    “I’ll finish pig-poop detail, then,” said Austin, his voice tinged with irritation.
    Juan walked Harper to the back porch, where she removed her sandals and then followed him inside.
    The kitchen was a traditional country style—white cupboards, big butcher-block counters, ceramic rooster ladle holder, and an oval kitchen table for eight—but with very nice appliances. She had to admit that she liked Ms. Luci’s style. Modern, yet traditional and homey.
    Juan pointed to a chair to have her sit, but all she could think of was that she had pig sick all over her. It wasn’t right to be in any kitchen. Not even a pig’s kitchen. If pigs had kitchens.
    “Juan, is there somewhere I can clean up? I don’t want to get this stuff on anything.”
    “You can take a shower in one of the guest rooms.” He pointed toward a small hallway with several doors. “That one is where your friend will be staying for the week.”
    He showed her to the cozy bedroom—dainty blue floral bedspread on the queen-sized bed, lace doilies on the nightstand, rocking chair in the corner—and attached bath.
    “Towels are in the bathroom. I’ll go upstairs and see if I can find you something to wear in Margarita’s closet.”
    Great. Now she really was going to have to wear some strange woman’s clothes. “Margarita is your sister?”
    “Yes. She’s about your size. Minus the, uh…” Juan’s big brown eyes shamelessly stuck on her boobs.
    Like father, like son.
    Harper clapped her hands in front of his face. “Okay. Thanks. Time for you to go now.”
    Juan snapped to. “Oh. Sorry. I’ll—uh…leave whatever I find for you on the bed.”
    “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” Harper shut the door behind him and began stripping off her soiled clothes. Ick. Even her bra smelled like pig.
    She carefully folded everything and left them in a neat pile on the floor. She’d definitely needed to head back to the B and B for clean clothes, because there was no way she’d be putting on any of that putrid-smelling stuff again, and she couldn’t go without undies and a bra—especially the bra.
    Harper slipped into the shower and started the task of scrubbing her skin with a washcloth. Her mind immediately insisted on drifting back to thoughts of Austin again and that little episode of him sneaking up on her. Why had he been in the barn to begin with? Had he come looking for her? If yes, what did he want?
    Oh. Stop. You’re being ridiculous. He didn’t want anything from you. And you don’t want anything from him. She just needed to keep reminding herself of that.
     
    ~~
     
    Physical activity had always been Austin’s surefire solution for everything. Running, basketball with the guys, lifting weights at the gym—nothing expelled the negative crap inside his head more efficiently or calmed him down faster than a good workout. But today, there was no amount of physical exertion—shoveling, lifting, mowing, collecting eggs (okay, the egg part could actually be kind of relaxing)—on this planet that would alleviate his pissy mood. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Harper had looked at that Latin lover boy Juan when Sebastian had made introductions.
    Sonofbitch. He’d almost slept with Harper last night, and there she was pining for some other guy already. Maybe she did it to make you jealous.
    Or maybe she’d been serious when she’d said she wasn’t into him because she