Page 35 of If You Like It, I Love It

There’s something special about this alpaca. And his owner.

“I brought dinner,” I say before I plant a kiss on Joni’s head. “It’s still in the truck. When I saw the vet, I wanted to make sure Oliver was okay first.”

“You didn’t have to bring me dinner.”

“I brought us dinner. I’m not taking my half to go.”

Her soft laughter makes me want to stand here and hold her forever.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to go out with the way Oliver has been acting.”

“I probably wouldn’t have. Thanks.”

“Let’s go inside and eat. You can check on him again when we’re done.”

“You mean done with dinner, right?”

“Yeah. But when we’re done with whatever comes after dinner, you can check on him then, too.”

“Let’s get that food out of your truck before it gets cold.”

It’s too hot out here for anything to get cold, but I’m more than happy to take her hand and walk with her.

The house smells like freshly cut wood. I love that smell, but I expect her to light a candle any second to mask it. There are several rolls of wallpaper on her dining room table.

So much yellow.

“Your wallpaper came in quick. I guess we should eat in the living room.”

“I can move it if we need the table. What are we having?”

The food is packed in a plain brown bag, no logo to identify what’s inside, but I’m surprised the smoky smell doesn’t give it away. Maybe it blends in with the scent of cut wood.

“Barbecue sandwiches. I opted for something easy since I didn’t know how much time you’d have.”

“So, after you lured me in with a first date at Lombardo’s, it’s all pizza and sandwiches now, huh? I see how you operate.”

“Finally. You admit it was a date.”

“I never denied it was a date.”

“But you tried to deny we were dating after that.”

She averts her eyes, no response. I don’t press, but I can’t lie, I was hoping for a different reaction. It could’ve been worse. At least she didn’t snap at me or kick me out. This is definitely a time to leave well enough alone.

“Hope you’re good with smoked turkey,” I say, “They were running low on brisket.”

“It’s perfect. I always get the turkey at Hickory Hill. Their brisket’s good, but their turkey is the best.”

Score. I file this information away with the other small things I know about her: yellow flowers are her favorite, she’s a sucker for red shoes, can’t resist eating a few olives off the pizza as soon as the box is opened, blue is her favorite color, though I haven’t determined exactly which shade of blue yet . . .

“You want a beer?” she asks.

“Yeah. A cold beer sounds really good right now.”

“You were expecting it to be cold?”

Fuck me. She’s adorable when she’s being a smartass.