Page 7 of Love, Untangled

She grabbed the loom and coat and carried them inside, a difficult process because she couldn’t change the tension in the fibers. She’d just set the loom down when someone knocked on her door.

Her stomach lurched.

Pen shoved her hair from her eyes as she hurried back toward the door. Her stomach griped as she worried about who would be there. Leon was top of her list of people she didn’t want to see, but Mr. Grumpy was a close second.

She groaned again when she saw the large male silhouette and the obvious outline of the alpaca next to him through the glass side panel on her porch. She began her apology before she even got the door open.

“I’m so sorry he got out again—”

“Save the excuses,” Mr. Grumpy said.

His dark hair glinted in the bright moonlight and his eyes flashed, deep and soulful. Pen gulped back the lick of awareness that swirled up her spine.

“All right. Well, I am sorry. I’ll tie Alpaca Man to the porch here so that he doesn’t get through the hole again.”

The man’s scowl deepened, hardened, but…was that a peek of humanity coming through as his gaze slid toward Alpaca Man? “I don’t want you to restrain him. Just put him in the barn.”

Pen threw her hands up. “I’ve tried that. He won’t stay.”

“Try shutting the barn door.”

“Um, hello—did that too. Alpaca Man doesn’t like the place.” Pen leaned in, her frustration as palpable as his. “He keeps getting out. And if he isn’t getting out, he’s crying to get out.”

Mr. Grumpy’s face hardened into an even deeper scowl, something Pen hadn’t been sure was possible. He looked downright frightening. “Deal with your pet. Now.”

“I think he’s lonely.”

“Not my problem.”

He passed the lead rope to her and Pen took it, shocked by the tingles that bubbled from the brief sensation when their fingers touched. She stifled a gasp—barely—as her gaze sought his.

Instead of the normal frown, though, his face slackened and paled. He pulled his hand back slowly and with a noticeable tremble.

“Are you all right?” Pen asked, inching closer.

As he searched her face, his lips parted. The expression made him appear vulnerable, almost…soft.

The man—she still didn’t know his name—shook himself out of his stupor and turned, his long stride eating the distance from the dimly-lit porch and out into the deep black of night.

“Well, you sure made a bad second impression too,” Pen said. Her eyes filled with tears.

She blinked them back with determination bred from years of practice.

“I’m tired,” she murmured. She met Alpaca Man’s gaze. “I wonder why?”

He blinked at her before raising his lips in a goofy grin.

“Nuh uh. That’s not working on me. No, sir. Look, my dude. I just need to finish this project. Then I can get a good night’s rest and figuring out your living situation won’t seem so impossible.”

Pen led Alpaca Man through the house, past the living room and separate dining room, both done up in wainscoting and faded wallpaper. She turned down the hall, with the same red oak planked flooring that covered every room but the kitchen, past the charming bathroom done with the original nineteen-forties fixtures and turquoise tiles, toward the large sunroom that had been added onto the back. That was the room she’d set up the previous night as her workshop. He let out a rumble and headed toward the alpaca fur next to her spinner. He flopped on the deep, soft pile, and shut his eyes. A moment later, soft snores rushed past his velvety lips.

Pen shook her head, caught somewhere between frustration and affection. “Got it. You like to be inside.”

Chapter 3

Carlo

He stared out the living room window, his dread increasing with each tick of the clock. He remained focused during daylight, but once night fell, he struggled to control his thoughts…and his dreams. No horror movie would ever go as far as his nightmares.

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