Page 30 of Love, Untangled

Her youth gave her enthusiasm, an optimism Carlo hadn’t seen or felt…ever.

He had to stop thinking of her as a blooming businesswoman and remember the reasons why he shouldn’t pursue anything romantic with her.

He stood and caught her just before she led her pet through the gate he’d built between their properties. He rested his hand on the fence post, resisting the urge to lower his head into her honey-and-sunshine strands of hair. Barely.

Still, the urge rode him. They’d be warm and smell good. He stiffened his body, turned his face from the temptation he might well be too weak to continue to resist.

“I was a teenager when you were in kindergarten. I was driving before you were out of elementary school.” Maybe, he didn’t know. But it sounded bad, so he punctuated his dire statement with a nod. “I was working by the time you started high school.”

“And then we became adults and those differences began to fade.”

Why did she have to say smart things? Her brow puckered and her brown eyes beseeched him. She was young and lovely and fresh—all the things he craved but shouldn’t have. He clenched his jaw. Pen deserved a man who could experience life with her—not one who’d already lived it and become embittered by it. He couldn’t steal her spark.

That would be wrong. Cruel.

“I don’t want to see you anymore,” he said, his tone almost as stiff as his shoulders. “Please don’t come back.”

As he spoke, the color drained from her typical rose-and-cream complexion, leaving her pale. Her lips trembled but she firmed them and gave him a stiff nod. “Let’s go, Alpaca Man.”

No, no, no. His hands fisted tighter, causing his knuckles to turn white and nearly split. I want you. I want to wrap you in my arms and hold you all night. I want to kiss away your tears, to watch the awe on your face as you discover your abilities, your limits, your pleasure…

Instead, he let her leave. He managed to walk the short distance back to his house. His butt thumped on the porch step and he dropped his head into his hands, his fingers tugging at his hair. His chest and his eyes ached with grief, that old companion.

He ignored the crunch of gravel on tires, trying to process his thoughts.

“I did the right thing,” he muttered.

“Did you?” Hattie’s voice floated toward him. Not that he was surprised. She visited often enough for him to know the sound of her golf cart’s tires on the gravel. “Is that why sweet little Penelope Davis is bawling her eyes out in Birdie’s arms right now?”

Carlo bolted upright. “She is?” He took a step, then another toward her house. He needed to hold her, show her how much he cared for her.

No. That wasn’t what he needed. He needed to manage his orchard, get the cider going. He needed to focus on solidifying Cora’s memory, not leading on a young woman barely more than a girl.

Slowly, he wilted as he forced himself to stop. He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles popped. “It’s for the best. I’m no good for her.”

Hattie settled her forearms on the porch’s rail and speared him with her steely gaze. Her scowl was deep and dark, not her normal look. At least not for him. She’d always treated him like a son, looking at him with benevolent interest.

“I might just agree with you on the last part because I have to say no one likes others making decisions for them. That tends to create disharmony. And in your case, seeing as how you have had a long-term relationship, a further abuse of the power imbalance between the two of you.”

“Which is why thinking about Penelope as anything other than my neighbor is a terrible idea,” Carlo barked.

Hattie tipped her head, studying him, the scowl still present. “For her? Or for you?”

“That’s neither here nor there.” He looked around. “Why are you here?”

“Apparently, to remind you that love…and the spice aren’t to be trifled with.”

“I don’t love Penelope…” Carlo sealed his lips.

Triumph heated her gaze, softening her expression. “Ah, who said I was talking about Pen?”

With that, she turned and sauntered off, not bothering to even say goodbye.

“Why did you have to put the spice in my coffee?” Carlo called after her. He licked his lips, his neck muscles tensed. That damn spice. If Hattie had just left him alone, none of this would have happened.

He wouldn’t feel coerced and angry…and hoping the spice made Penelope want him as much as he wanted her.

Hattie ignored him. She hauled herself into her golf cart and headed back down his gravel driveway.

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