Page 71 of Love, Untangled

“I’m sure the team would be happy to help,” Adam said. “Trust me.”

Carlo clapped him on the shoulder, his hand lingering for a moment on the rough fabric of the jacket. He missed it, everything about fighting fires. He glanced over at the smoldering rubble. While the barn was gone and the charred wood spoke of something terrible, it also allowed for a new opportunity.

Chapter 36

Penelope

Her head throbbed and her face hurt, even to speak. But that was getting better now that the doctor had given her some pain medication.

“You’re lucky,” the doctor said. “No bones are broken.” She studied Pen for a long moment. “But that’s a deep bruise. It’s going to take a while for the pain to subside. Take it easy, because even though the concussion is moderate it can cause some issues.”

She rattled off the possible side effects, but Pen was too tired and her head throbbed too insistently to memorize them. Her mind kept returning to the fact she’d lost her barn—and with it, much of her alpaca hair she’d planned to spin into yarn.

Those products were the bulk of her income. Sure, Alpaca Man and Lydia would produce more hair eventually, but Pen needed income now. Especially now that she’d lost her barn.

“All right. I can tell you need some rest. How about I let the ladies take you home?” The doctor patted Pen’s arm gently, but she still felt it in her cheek.

Her mother had manipulated and lied to Pen, stolen from her, but she’d never hit her. While Leon never meant to hurt her—she’d run into his arm—there was still something deeply unsettling about being struck by another person, and Pen remained off-kilter.

She continued to shiver as the crew led her back to Trixie’s vehicle. The ladies had driven Pen back to Trixie’s house—it was the closest—and traded out the golf cart for a car because the drive to the hospital required nearly an hour on the highway.

Pen knew she had an hour back to Cinnamon Bay, so she closed her eyes, trying to find a comfortable position for her head. There wasn’t one. She had no inventory and no income.

Anxiety wrapped around her chest, squeezing at her middle. The large sedan slid to a stop and Pen forced her eyes open. She squinted, taking a moment to track the lines of the house—Carlo’s house. “Why are we here?”

“Because you shouldn’t be alone.”

The tart reply would have made Pen smile but she was too tired, too worried. Carlo came to the door and helped her out.

She blinked up at him, squinting against the sun, which seemed blinding. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said, cutting her off. He cupped her uninjured cheek. “Seeing you hurt…” His fingers trembled. “Please, Penelope, let me help you with this. I have plenty of room for both you and the alpacas.”

Alpaca Man clopped closer, nuzzling into Pen’s other side. Lydia, always the more skittish of the two, kept a couple of feet of distance. She hugged his neck, careful to keep her aching face away from the alpaca’s neck. Tears threatened the back of her eyes but she blinked them away. “T-thank you.”

Carlo pressed a kiss to her forehead and inhaled. He had to get a lungful of the antiseptic from the hospital that seemed to cling to everything, and the smoke from the fire. But somehow Pen had the feeling he was smelling her.

He pulled back and nodded to the ladies, who noted his and Pen’s every move. Right, of course. They were the matchmakers of the town. Well, good luck with that. Carlo had vowed never to marry again just last week. She could tell he’d meant those words.

But he was a good man, one who would insist on helping a woman in need, especially his young neighbor. That was why Carlo fixed the broken items at her place and why he paid her to let Alpaca Man graze in his orchard.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He turned, and with his arm around her waist and Alpaca Man on the other side, they made their way into his house, though she wanted to balk. She was simply too tired, too stressed, and too scared to resist.

Plus, staying with anyone but Carlo seemed wrong. His feelings would be hurt, and she didn’t want that. Not even after the cruel things he’d said to her.

But that didn’t mean she was ready to forget his words either.

She let him help her to the shower. Once she finished, her whole body ached too much to put up a fight about going home.

She lay in his bed, wishing their situation was different. But Carlo wanted to repent his past more than he wanted to move forward. Penelope deserved a man who wanted her.

She fell into a fitful sleep, lulled by the faint scent of his cologne. She turned toward Carlo and clung to him when he came to bed later.

But when she woke early the next morning, she knew she couldn’t stay.

She wore one of Carlo’s T-shirts because her clothes were covered in blood. She didn’t know what he’d done with them while she bathed. Perhaps it didn’t matter—she didn’t want them back.

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