Page 26 of Love, Untangled

“He likes to walk with me through the orchard,” Carlo mumbled. He blinked, seeming surprised to have said anything.

He tended to get quieter in groups. Well, around anyone really. But Pen had been working on him, pulling Carlo out of his closed-off shell.

“He eats my apples,” Carlo added, his expression becoming more cautious.

Hattie shot him a questioning look. “The ones on the trees?” she asked like she already knew the answer.

Pen held her tongue, waiting to see how Carlo answered. Hattie seemed to know Carlo fairly well, which warmed Pen. He needed friends. At times it was clear Carlo was as adrift as she was—maybe more so. Pen knew that her nana and her father had loved her. But Carlo seemed so very alone.

“No, which you already know because I told you he’s been cleaning up around the trees.”

Birdie clapped her hands together, looking delighted. “Oh! The dear’s being helpful. What a sweet thing. That saves you a lot of work, not having to deal with the fallen fruit.”

Carlo sighed and shook his head. His gaze landed on a tall, dark-haired man walking down the boardwalk. He wore a pair of dress pants and a button-down shirt. “I know. That’s why I don’t shoo him home.” She noted the softening around Carlo’s mouth as he looked at the alpaca. “He’s a good companion.”

“I knew you liked him,” Hattie crowed. She patted his shoulder, her smile fond. “You have such a good heart, Carlo.”

Carlo’s cheeks reddened. “Oh, that’s Marvin, from the bank. And the fire station. I’ll just go say hi.” He turned on his heel and sped off as fast as the warm sand allowed.

“He’s running away,” Hattie said. She chuckled. “He’s still terrible about dealing with a situation head-on.”

“But he’s gotten so much better. I mean, he’s talking to Marvin. Maybe there’s hope that he’ll get back to firefighting,” Birdie said, her tone thoughtful. She tapped her finger to her weathered cheek.

“He’s not ready for that yet, dear,” Hattie said. “You know how trauma can be.”

“Carlo was a firefighter?” Pen asked. She’d been doing her best to follow the conversation but she felt as if the tennis match in front of her was being played at double speed. Clearly, these women knew Carlo much better than she did, and…yes, she wanted to know more about her attractive neighbor.

“He was,” Hattie said. She had a gleam in her eye. “He seems to like you. A lot. So I guess you don’t need to worry about that issue.”

Pen laughed but it sounded hollow. “I think we’re making the best of our neighborliness. Apparently Carlo’s apples are too delicious to ignore.”

“They are good,” Hattie said. “We used to enjoy them by the bushel back in the day. Remember?”

“Do I?” The other woman smacked her lips and made a humming sound in her throat. “That’s when Ned was alive.” She glanced at Pen. “Ned was Cora’s father. Carlo’s father-in-law.”

Pen’s cheeks bloomed with a hot, hard flush but her lips numbed. “C-Carlo’s married?” Her stomach rolled. She bit the inside of her cheek harder. These women must have been laughing at her when she talked about him at book club last month.

Another wave of humiliation washed over her. No wonder Carlo was annoyed by her. She’d made those clumsy attempts at flirting. His wife must be out of town.

No doubt she was beautiful and smart and talented. She must be, for Carlo to love her.

“Oh, no, dear. Not anymore. Cora died in a fire out in California—that’s where she and Carlo lived. What was it? Two years now? Yes, a little over two years ago.”

“That’s so sad,” Pen said, her gaze seeking out Carlo. She couldn’t imagine how much that loss must have cut into his soul. And yet here he stood, straight-backed and a bit too stern. No wonder he didn’t laugh—there wasn’t much in his life worth enjoying. “I’ll just have to help him find something,” Pen murmured.

“That’s the spirit, dear,” Hattie said, her smile blooming wider by the moment. “Carlo deserves affection and joy.”

“I’m pretty sure the spice will take care of that for both of you,” Birdie said, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

Hattie shrugged. “When you know, you know.”

Birdie grunted.

Pen dropped her gaze to the loom, picking at the last loop she’d completed, messing up the tension of the piece. “I didn’t mean—”

“Well you should,” Hattie said. “Carlo’s a fine man. Young too. No sense in him whiling away his years all alone out there on that property, getting surlier by the day.”

“He’s not that grumpy,” Pen said, the urge to defend Carlo strong. Except he was that grumpy. Rather, he had been when she’d first met him. Now…he was the closest thing she had to a confidant. A friend.

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