Page 13 of Love, Untangled

She kept her face turned away, too embarrassed by her reaction to face him. By the time he finished, the silence had stretched between them. She bit the inside of her cheek as tears flooded her eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was from the pain of the sliver or from how awkward the situation between them had become. Maybe both.

“Got it,” Carlo said, holding up the long, thin sliver of wood. Once her hand was dry, he squirted some antibiotic cream onto her cut and applied a bandage.

“Thanks,” Pen replied. “Um. I have some things I need to do…”

“Yeah, of course.”

“My weaving, you know. Or…or I should make another hat. I’m good with yarn.” She pushed the chair back, wincing when it scraped against the tile.

“The quality of the hat you gave me is amazing.”

She smiled, finding a bit of her equilibrium. “I’m glad you like it.” That heat lit his eyes once more, and her abdomen warmed.

“I’ll treasure it.”

“Oh.” The small sound pulled from deep within her. They stared at each other. She had no idea what he was thinking but he didn’t look away. More and more heat curled in her belly and Pen’s heart raced. She opened her mouth, needing to say something. His gaze dropped to her lips. Her breath broke. His pupils flared. She licked her lower lip, bathing it with her tongue. He took a step toward her, the smoldering expression causing her to moan a little.

He blinked, his gaze shooting to hers. Guilt flashed across his features and he busied himself with cleaning up the items from the table. “See you around, Pen.”

She waved, too overcome to speak, and darted out the back door, the mullioned glass in the top quarter casting dazzling lights that made her squint. Carlo had looked… That had to have been desire on his face. Right?

She wasn’t sure. She didn’t know him well, but she…she wanted to. Desperately.

Alpaca Man rose from the shady spot near the deep porch, nuzzling her shoulder as she speed-walked from the large, neatly trimmed yard. The area around the house was big, maybe half an acre, with the light-blue two-story house and matching garage. Offset, closer to the orchard, was a barn or shop that had a footprint at least the size of the house with the same color scheme. The white barn-style doors and tidy white pillars and decking on the porch spoke to a level of care that Pen’s house currently lacked, thanks to the two months it had sat empty.

She walked through the edge of the apple trees, situated in their neat rows, marveling at how tidy Carlo’s property was. The fruit was small and green, but that was to be expected in May. Now, as summer warmed their flesh, the smell of apples would drift on the breeze. It was one of her favorite memories of her nana’s homestead. That and the apple butter Nana made from her much smaller and less organized orchard, which had been seeded from the same trees as Carlo’s. That was why she couldn’t see his home from hers; the unintended forest had grown over the years, secluding the two properties.

She had a vague sense that all the plots on this road were similar in size; their shapes changed based on the lazy curve of the road that housed six residences before ending at dense pine forest and rolling hills.

As she neared the fence line, she gasped. Carlo had put in a gate right there—in the middle of the section. She pressed the latch and swung it open, pleased with how smooth it was—wide enough to fit both her and Alpaca Man.

He’d made a gate for her, while she slept. So that she wouldn’t hurt herself again when she came back…because he wanted her to come back?

Possibly both. She relived the burn in Carlo’s eyes as they stared at each other across his kitchen table.

She placed her injured hand over her beating heart, the juxtaposition of stinging palm against frantic heartbeat informing her she was alive. And happy.

Maybe even a little fearful. Okay, a lot fearful.

She glanced back over her shoulder, warmth and desire blooming over her skin.

Chapter 5

Carlo

Penelope didn’t bring Alpaca Man back over, much to his disappointment. After nearly a week, annoyed that he missed her company, Carlo walked to the edge of his land, which was in sight of Penelope’s house. She sat on her porch, her blonde head gleaming in the bright sunshine as she bent over her loom. Alpaca Man lounged beside her, his face blissed out. Carlo snorted. That animal had the best life—full-time with a beautiful woman.

Penelope began to sing and Carlo stopped, something warm spreading through his chest. He was transfixed, not by her singing voice—it was about as good as his, so okay—but because he felt that tingle again. One he’d all but forgotten. Anticipation.

He couldn’t deny it any longer. He liked her company. That thought brought out his scowl. He turned back toward his place. A couple of moments later, he heard the soft thud of hooves. His chin dropped to his chest even as a smile turned up the corners of his lips.

“Hey there, buddy. I guess you like company as much as you like apples.”

The alpaca seemed to mumble as he paced his stride to Carlo’s, eyes bright and head swiveling as he took in the neat row of trees. Carlo opened the gate.

“Go ahead,” Carlo said, motioning toward the fallen fruit. They were still small and probably sour but the alpaca didn’t seem to mind. “Like I told Penelope, you’re doing me a favor.” The alpaca bent his wooly head and munched. Carlo stood nearby, watching. Once the animal ate a few more, Carlo snagged his head collar. “I should probably get you back before she worries and tries to take out the fence again.”

Carlo chuckled at the memory. He glanced around the orchard, wondering when the last time this place had heard joy. Too long—before Carlo’s time.

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