Page 5 of Love, Untangled

Sweat trickled down the back of Pen’s neck and made her top stick to her back and belly. She could make out her neighbor’s two-story house with its pitched roof and weathered siding better than her own right now. That wasn’t good—nor was it helpful they’d crossed over onto the neighbor’s property.

Pen swiped at her forehead for the millionth time, unused to the heat or the humidity. As the day progressed, Penelope felt much as she had during her brief time in New Orleans before her mother whisked them out of town…in a new car and without Pen’s favorite stuffed bear.

Gritting her teeth, Pen pushed that memory forcefully from her mind. Her mother’s lifestyle and choices weren’t Pen’s and they never would be. She was here, on the outskirts of Cinnamon Bay, learning how to be a farmer…er, an alpaca wrangler, which she was failing at because Alpaca Man was even more stubborn than Pen.

She needed to finish setting up the fiber arts business she’d always dreamed of creating. But first she needed to tug Alpaca Man off the neighbor’s property where he’d bolted while she’d been busy carrying her clothes and other items inside. Sneaky beast.

“This isn’t lying low, like Birdie suggested.” Penelope grunted as she shoved her shoulder into Alpaca Man’s shoulder, her blonde hair stuck to her sweaty forehead and hung in her eyes. “These aren’t your apples, my dude. Will you stop it? No, don’t grab another one… Alpaca Man, you aren’t listening! We need to go. These aren’t ours!”

“Hey! What are you doing in my orchard?”

The angry voice caused Alpaca Man’s head to swivel…but didn’t stop his munching. Pen cringed as a particularly juicy bit dribbled from the corner of the alpaca’s mouth. This wasn’t how she wanted to meet her new neighbor.

“Now you’ve done it,” Pen hissed at her pet/best friend/monster-in-the-making.

Well, Alpaca Man was her only friend, really. She shoved down the grief that twisted, hard and sharp, inside her. Alpaca Man bumped her shoulder with his forehead…and bent toward the ground to retrieve another of the fallen apples.

Pen shoved that sweat-soaked hair from her face and offered a beaming smile toward the scowling man standing a few feet away, arms akimbo and legs braced for action. Thick, long legs encased in faded jeans…

Pen snapped her gaze back toward the man’s. He quirked a dark eyebrow as a flush burned up Pen’s neck.

“Hi! Alpaca Man got through the fence, and I’m trying to get him home.”

The man—a gorgeous man even with that hefty scowl darkening his brow—firmed his fists on his hips. “He’s eating my apples.”

The man’s voice was nice and deep though the words were bitten off, frustration running through them. He appeared to be in his early thirties, very fit by the look of those biceps and forearms. Pen forced her gaze back up to his, which had narrowed still further, turning his nice gray eyes into slits.

Why wouldn’t this guy smile? She bet he’d take her breath away.

“He had a snack,” Pen conceded, a faint tremble slithering up her spine. “Of the fallen ones.” That was much different than plucking the ones from the trees. At least she thought it was.

“Nice as that is for him to be eating my fallen apples; I don’t want him to start munching on my trees. You need to fix your fence and you definitely need to keep your livestock in check.”

With that, Mr. Gorgeous and Grumpy whirled and stalked off.

“A pleasure to meet you, neighbor! My name’s Penelope, and I’ll stop by with the goodie basket I made for you.”

Only after the words were out of her mouth did she bite her lip. Too late now. She’d sassed the man—a man she’d hoped would help her with the fence. Especially since Pen had no idea how to do it herself.

“You need to think before you react, Pen,” she muttered.

The man stopped and his shoulders went even more rigid. He turned back, those gray eyes glinting in the dappled sunlight. Goodness, he looked like something Michelangelo would have carved.

“Yeah, you do,” he said.

Mortification slammed into her as she realized he’d heard her.

“And I don’t want to see you in my orchard again.”

“Got it,” she said through clenched teeth, blinking back the tears of shame and frustration that had been building, building, building since Pen received the letter telling her of her grandmother’s death. Everything was a mess, compounded by the strain of Leon possibly showing up.

And now her neighbor hated her.

Pen gripped Alpaca Man’s halter and pulled on it with enough force until they were eye to eye. Poor Alpaca Man had to bend his neck quite a ways. He blinked his long ochre lashes at her, his big brown eyes like liquid pools of warm chocolate.

“That did not go well. And you know we need the new neighbor dude to like us,” Penelope murmured. “I’m not good at ranching…farming…orcharding…whatever this is out here. Clearly, I can’t even control you.”

Alpaca Man made a noise before he licked his lips. He nuzzled into her neck, his fur warm and soft, and the closest thing to a hug Pen had experienced in weeks. She closed her eyes, tears burning the backs of them, and sighed.

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