Page 36 of Love, Untangled

The idea of romancing Penelope Davis excited him, made him feel more alive than he had in years.

He stopped, frowned and pulled down a branch, studying it more closely.

“What’s this?” A white substance coated the leaves of one of the trees. “Yuck. This can’t be good.”

Worried that it was a type of fungus, Carlo pulled out his cell phone and called the local gardening center.

“We don’t have anything here that would work on the tree,” the clerk said, sounding sympathetic. “Not many fruit trees in the area to specialize there. My best suggestion is to head into Summerfield.”

That town, about an hour away, offered a much greater assortment of gardening and hardware stores and other amenities like a full hospital.

Carlo cut off all the blighted branches—a very few, thankfully—and bagged them. He tucked his gloves into his back pocket as he headed over to Pen’s house to let her know he wouldn’t be around later that day.

He found her in her studio with Hattie and her cronies. He smiled, pleased they were keeping an eye on Penelope. Carlo knocked on the door to the room, interrupting a deep conversation on tea.

Penelope smiled, her cheeks staining a dark pink. “Carlo.”

“Penelope.” Unable to help himself when she smiled like that, he crossed the room and kissed her temple. She stiffened, clearly surprised by his affection, but then relaxed against him. He reveled in her warmth, that sunniness she radiated for a moment. How silly he’d been, ignoring this connection between them. Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Hattie and her friends oohed and sighed.

“I have to head to Summerfield. I may have a fungus trying to get a hold on my trees.”

“Oh, no!” Penelope laid her hand on his arm. “What can I do?”

“Continue to teach your class,” he said with a wink. “I didn’t know you had one today.”

“Oh, she doesn’t. Not really. I just couldn’t get that pearl stitch down, so I brought Birdie and Trixie out with me for a semiprivate lesson.” Hattie smiled, her eyes gleaming. “But seeing how much we’ve learned, I think we may need to turn it into a weekly thing.”

Carlo chuckled, pleased that the ladies liked his Sunshine as much as he did. “Sounds smart. How else are you going to build those skills?”

Birdie nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly.”

Carlo kept his palm on Penelope’s cheek, turning her back toward him. “Maybe I could make you dinner after I get home tonight?”

She glanced around the room, noting the avid expressions on each of the women’s faces, but being Penelope, she raised her chin and barreled forward. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“I would too, dear,” Birdie said with a soft smile. “Romance is such a joy.”

Penelope’s eyes danced as she met his gaze. “Be careful,” she offered.

He swiped his lips over her cheek because he definitely wanted the ladies to know his intentions—but he wanted Pen to understand even more. Her expression told him she loved the attention, and his intuition told him she’d always dreamed of having a deep, romantic relationship.

“Well, I always knew he’d find a special woman,” Hattie said, her voice carrying through the open window as Carlo crossed the porch. “Why don’t you show me that stitch again, dear? I fear I messed up my tension, thanks to my pattering heart.”

Carlo chuckled at Hattie’s words, shaking his head. He broke into a whistle as he headed back toward his property. He gave Alpaca Man a good scratch-and-pat on the way.

“Look after our girl,” Carlo said.

The alpaca grunted as he continued to munch his grass.

Carlo chortled, happier than he’d been in…he couldn’t remember how long. He was happy, even if his trees had a fungus. Even if he didn’t make a cider this year and the money he’d spent ended up being wasted. None of that mattered as much as spending time with Penelope, watching her blossom as a business owner and a woman.

He was there, center stage, if not on the stage with her. And he loved every second of this ride.

Carlo drove to the city, arm on the rolled-down window frame. His talk with the arborist proved helpful and Carlo had pages of notes and possible remedies—after he dumped the offending branches, sealed in their plastic, into the trash can the arborist directed him toward.

He was just about to leave when he saw a delicate lavender orchid in a hot pink glazed pot. Stopping, he admired the delicate petals.

---