Page 44 of Love, Untangled

She called to Alpaca Man, who turned down the well-used path that led to the gate between their properties. The night air caressed her skin and she tipped her head back and stared up at the moon. It hung large and white in the velvety blackness. None of the cities she’d lived in had a night sky like this—it was peaceful.

Even with the threat of her mother stealing her house, Pen was more content than she’d ever been. She felt at home here; it wasn’t just nostalgia from her early childhood. The people were kind and wanted to help her find her place.

If only Carlo wanted to be with her, then Pen would be blissfully happy.

“Be thankful for what you have,” she said. She sank her fingers into Alpaca Man’s warm wool before using her free hand to open the gate.

Something large fluttered at her, causing Pen to duck and shriek. She cowered for a moment, aware of the sound of Alpaca Man’s retreating hoofbeats. The jerk ran away and left her here, alone, in the dark.

Her heart continued to pound as she lifted her head, searching. Her breath slid past her lips when she saw an owl nearby. Its large, yellow eyes stared at her.

“Penelope!” Carlo bellowed. He tore down the path, into the trees, pelting closer.

“I’m fine,” she called. “The owl frightened me.” She gestured toward the bird, which lifted off from the fence post, no doubt irritated by the yelling.

Carlo skidded to a stop in front of her, chest heaving. “This is why I don’t want you to be alone.” He settled his hands on the gateposts on either side of her, caging her as he lowered his head. “I’m going to worry. I won’t sleep. I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine—”

“For me, Penelope. Will you do it for me?”

She met his gaze. Concern and something more swirled there. It softened the skin around his eyes and eased the sharpness of his jaw. Attraction. He feels it too.

“I…” She licked her lips. Carlo’s gaze zeroed in on the movement, the heat in his eyes increasing. “I…I’m not sure…”

His hand caught hers and he tugged her into his arms. He searched her face, his eyes burning. Slowly, he lowered his head so that his lips were a whisper from hers. “Pen?”

“Yes?” she breathed.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

Before she completed her inhale, his lips smoothed over hers, soft and bewitching. Her muscles softened, seeming to melt into him.

She was kissing Carlo! Grumpy, sexy-as-sin neighbor Carlo.

He teased her lips apart, rubbing his tongue along the seam. He tasted like cinnamon and apples, no doubt from his cider. Delicious.

She pressed tighter against him and he rewarded her by grasping her hips and tugging her flush against his body. He dwarfed her, his bulk warm and sturdy. Perfect. He slid his fingertips up the nape of her neck and across her jaw, causing her to shiver.

No one had touched her like Carlo did—as if she was spun glass that deserved to be cherished. But also with an urgency, as if he feared she’d disappear. He pulled back, his eyes dark, not with shadows but from desire.

A shiver slithered along Pen’s skin. Carlo wanted her. His gaze dropped to her lips and she licked them, humming as she caught the faintest hint of his flavor on her tongue.

“That was…” He stopped, frowned.

“Really good?” His eyes lit up as his lips quirked. She grinned in response, enjoying his response to her.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. After another long moment where he glided his fingertips across her cheeks, her jaw, her chin, and throat, the calluses making goosebumps explode and her nipples pebble, he said, “You are the most gorgeous being, and I want you.”

Joy bloomed in her chest.

“I shouldn’t,” he continued, his expression solemn. “I’m still grieving, and that’s not fair to you.”

The joy faded, muffled by his brutal honesty. She tried to rally, to tell herself she appreciated him knowing his boundaries, but she couldn’t. Since she met him, even when he was grumpy, Pen found Carlo attractive. Very attractive.

She wanted to explore those feelings, something she hadn’t had the opportunity to do often. Fine—once before. But that was a vagabond’s life, never in one place long enough for romance or relationships.

There was an irony to fate: Pen had landed in her forever place, the home she planned to dig deep roots into, as did Carlo, but he’d never see her as more than his rebound.

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