Page 52 of If You Like It, I Love It

“Shh, let a man live a fantasy for a moment, you tyrant.”

“Hmm, I’m not opposed to being an evil queen.”

“You couldn’t be evil if you tried.”

“But queen is an option?”

“Stop talking, and squeeze my dick again, beautiful.”

“Beautiful what?”

“Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Yeah, okay, that works.

The harder I squeeze, the faster he thrusts. And when the earth shakes for him, I know I’m the reason.

I don’t think single can be my first word anymore. That realization feels strange and foreign and scary and . . . beautiful.

27

Joni

I’ve barely stepped out of Enzo’s truck when Glynnis rushes me and grabs hold of my arm. “Yay, you’re here! Come with me. I need to introduce you to someone.”

“What are you doing here already?” I ask. “This is supposed to be a surprise party.”

“Pfft, I’ve known about it for weeks. Like that man could surprise me with a party. It’s sweet that he tried, though. Anyway, I need to introduce you to the attorney before the band starts and there’s not a quiet spot left on this whole ranch.”

“What attorney?”

There is a giant picture of Oliver on an easel near the front porch. And that’s my face on the banner hanging over the railing. It says something about alpacas, but Glynnis is pulling me along too fast to read it. Enzo looks as confused as I am.

Glynnis leads us into Rhett’s kitchen where Sabrina is pouring champagne, and Rhett and Mav are carving briskets. I assume the extra man, whose name I don’t yet know, must be the attorney Glynnis says I need to meet.

Rhett hands Enzo a knife and tells him to unwrap another brisket from the tray he’s pointing at with his chin.

The stranger stands from the table and offers me his business card. “I’m Clayton Whitmire. You must be the alpaca lady.”

“Hi,” I say, extending my hand. “Joni Prescott. Unless my friend knows something that I don’t, I’m not actually in need of an attorney, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, yes, you are,” Glynnis says, lifting a champagne flute. “Clay can handle all the legal paperwork for your 501(c)(3) filing.”

“My what?”

“Your nonprofit status, so your alpaca rescue can accept tax-deductible donations. Tonight is your kickoff fundraiser. Surprise!”

“What are you talking about? This is your birthday party!”

“And what I want for my birthday is to host your kickoff fundraiser. Everyone who’s coming is someone who loves you, and we’re all super excited to help you get started, so we don’t care about tax receipts tonight, but going forward, you’re going to want to attract repeat donations, and donations from strangers who have deep pockets. And strangers who can make big donations want to be able to write them off on their taxes. That’s why you need Clay.”

She holds the sparkling flute toward me, but I couldn’t grasp it right now if I tried. My head feels like I just fell from the top of a Ferris Wheel that’s still spinning, and I’m on the ground trying to make sense of the blaring sounds and flashing lights while my vision blurs in and out.

I turn to Rhett. “Was this the plan all along?”

“When I invited you to the party, it was a birthday celebration. But after you took on two new alpacas, Twister proposed we do this instead. And I thought it sounded like a hell of a good idea. Besides, at least this way I get to surprise somebody.”

“Oh, I’m surprised all right.”