Page 31 of Love, Untangled

In the space of ten minutes, Carlo had angered and possibly lost the two most important people in his life.

And he had no one to blame but himself.

He tried making bread. That didn’t soothe him. Neither did swinging on his porch, because everywhere he looked he remembered an interaction with Pen. She’d brought him the hat he currently had on his head, even though it was too hot in the kitchen to wear it, thanks to the oven. She’d looked at him with her big brown eyes, sure he’d take away the pain in her palm. She’d smiled even in her sleep when he’d laid her on his couch.

He’d slept with the blanket he’d laid over her every night since because it smelled, faintly, of her.

His Sunshine. She brightened his days, made them warmer.

He hadn’t realized how much of a struggle simply getting up to face another day had become. Sue had tried to talk to him about his downward spiral, but he’d deflected today, then he’d lashed out.

Because it had gotten hard.

Chapter 13

Penelope

Another week passed, and Pen refused to go anywhere near Carlo’s property. She took Alpaca Man with her to town a few times when she needed to run errands. Most of the shopkeepers liked him, which helped.

But when she needed to keep Alpaca Man home, like today, he tested her patience and creativity. Out of desperation, she’d bought a deadbolt that she used to lock him inside the barn. Hearing him cry made her so tense that she nearly unbolted the door the first time she used it, but his recriminating look when she led him into the space the next time broke her heart.

“I know, my dude, but I have to go to the bank,” she said. “And you can’t come in there. It’s one thing to stroll the boardwalk or hang out in front of the grocery store.” She placed her hand on the door, heart aching for her friend. “I’ll be back soon.”

She hated leaving Alpaca Man home; most of the women enjoyed patting him on the way into the shop, much to the alpaca’s delight. But he wasn’t allowed at the bank.

And Pen didn’t want to rush this trip. She needed more information about this spice. Why had Hattie seemed so self-satisfied when both Carlo and Pen ingested it?

Pen drove toward town, glad Alpaca Man had the cool interior of the barn to keep him from overheating. The sun pounded onto the pavement in front of the café, and Pen sighed with relief when she slid into the air-conditioned interior. For a moment, she’d been worried the soles of her old Converse might melt off. After ordering an iced tea, she sought out Eva.

“What do you know about something called ‘spice’?” she asked.

Eva pursed her lips. She waved Pen toward a small two-seater table and settled across from her. Pen took a long swig of her beverage, enjoying how it cooled her parched throat.

“I sell it here as Café Amour because the tourists love it. Well, the idea of it. But those naughty ladies aren’t supposed to get their hands on it anymore. Shop rule.”

Eva glared at Trixie, who sat on the other side of the café, probably listening to every word. The older woman waved back, her smile wide, as if she knew Pen and Eva were talking about the spice.

“Okay, but what’s the big deal?” Pen asked. A customer stepped up to the counter, so Pen waited for Eva to ring up the older gentleman. She rose, impatient for details, and strode back toward the counter, tapping her toe.

Eva pushed some strands of hair back from her face as she leaned on the glass countertop, speaking quietly. “Café Amour is supposed to work on soul mates. It brings them together.”

Soul mates. That sounded beautiful. But Pen shook her head. After the way Carlo spoke to her, it was obvious he didn’t like the idea—or consider her anything more than a nuisance.

“People hail my cousin Calliope as the town witch. Really she’s just eccentric, but she plays into the image, and she’s the one who supplies the cinnamon for the proprietary spice blend,” Eva continued, “called Old Blaze. It’s been passed down generation after generation from the original witch, who was an infamous pirate’s mistress. When two people ingest the Café Amour and meet each other’s eyes, their souls are supposed to claim the other’s and they fall madly in love. Or you meet your soul mate within a year, blah blah.” Eva shrugged. “At least that’s the legend. It sells a lot of drinks,” she said over her shoulder.

“But…but…you can’t believe it,” Pen said. No way that was real.

Eva shrugged. “Hattie, Birdie, and Trixie think it’s real. And they’ve had a hand in matching up some very happy couples. Myself included.”

Pen swallowed, a challenge thanks to the ball of worry clogging her throat. “But…”

“If you didn’t drink it with your soul mate, you won’t fall in love. No harm, no foul,” Eva said. “Plenty of people come in for a daily cup and are still single.”

Pen gathered her tote, trying to ignore her shaking fingers. No wonder Carlo was angry. He loved his deceased wife. He didn’t want another relationship—he’d told her that more than once. So to have the possibility forced on him, with…with drugs?

Pen’s anger grew—at Birdie, Hattie, and Trixie. What they’d done wasn’t right. It wasn’t nice.

Though she wanted to get back to Alpaca Man, she walked down to the bank. Marvin Brewster, the nice man who had helped her set up an account and deposit her earnings, asked if she needed any other help. Handsome, she thought. All dark hair and broad shoulders. But not as handsome as Carlo.

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