Page 6 of If You Like It, I Love It

“Temporarily,” Glynnis says. “Not that it would stop me, but if that’s a sticking point for you, just make sure he knows you’re available after the paint dries.”

“God, that sounded like the world’s worst euphemism.” I drop the cold fry I was about to eat.

“But it could lead to the best time of your life.”

“She’s not wrong,” Sabrina says.

As if it hasn’t occurred to me that Enzo might be a good time. A totally forbidden, completely off-limits, hell of a good time.

A pang of guilt forces a sigh from my lungs as I get back into my truck to head home. Oliver loves to come into town and prance down the sidewalk, staring into all the shop windows, checking out the plates of food on the front tables in Trudy’s Diner, having all the smiles and hellos heaped upon him by everyone he passes.

My alpaca is more well-known in my hometown than I am, and he just moved into my pasture a year ago.

I’ve been so stressed that I just didn’t have the energy to hook up his trailer today, which was both lazy and inconsiderate of me. This home renovation is changing me, too.

I’ll make it up to Oliver.

4

Joni

Working in a veterinarian clinic, you learn pretty quickly how much you don’t know about animals, and also just how big of a sucker you really are for a pair of sad eyes and a furry head in your lap or on your shoulder.

But I was always able to compartmentalize, to keep my love of animals in the work zone, to not fall for their manipulative cuteness . . . until the day I fell.

Dr. Abernathy’s eyes just about popped out of his head when I volunteered to foster an alpaca. I’d been working as a tech for over five years, so yes, I knew alpacas can be stubborn and are known to have the self-preservation sense of a reckless teenager, but Bryan had been dead for nearly three years, and I was lonelier than I was ready to admit.

I had friends, but I’d lost my ability to connect in any meaningful way. I wasn’t ready to date, no matter how many books said I should be. I was closer to being a recluse than I care to remember.

Work was the epicenter of my social life—my whole life, actually.

And it’s only a part-time job.

We’re not specifically a large animal practice, so we don’t have the facilities to house them, but Dr. Abernathy will go out to treat horses and livestock onsite if he’s needed. No one had ever called about an alpaca before, but when the county responded to a neighbor’s complaint about mistreated horses and dogs, they also found an unexpected trio of alpacas in the barn.

Our whole staff went out that evening to help.

Some of the animals were in pretty bad shape, but local rescue organizations took them in—all except for one of the alpacas. He wasn’t too sick to go with the others; there just wasn’t room for him.

I took one look into his soulful brown eyes and volunteered to foster him on the spot. I had a fenced pasture, and a barn with four stalls, but only because it was already there when Bryan and I bought the place. I wanted the house. He wanted the land. Neither of us wanted animals that required a pasture or a stall. We always figured we’d remodel the barn into something else someday. Someday never came.

It would’ve been selfish of me not to take that shy little alpaca in temporarily. Or to keep him a little longer when no one reached out right away with a permanent solution. And when days turned into weeks turned into months? Well, what was I supposed to do? Kick him out?

He’s grown into a diva, a prima donna, a total brat of a beast . . . but we’re buddies. It only took a few days for me to decide his name was Oliver. By the end of the third month, he was healthy and oh, so headstrong.

I painted his name on the new trailer I’d bought him and started taking him into town with me because I hated leaving him behind. Everyone fell in love with him. He’s practically the town mascot now.

And I didn’t just save him, we saved each other.

My fear that he would be mad at me for not taking him with me today is confirmed as soon as I walk up to him in the pasture. His head turns away so I can’t make eye contact, a clear message I’ve hurt his feelings. And trust me, hell hath no fury like an alpaca with hurt feelings. Especially Oliver.

I apologize to the side of his face and give him neck scritches anyway. He accepts the physical attention, but still won’t look at me until he smells the shredded sweet potato I’ve brought as a peace offering.

A good snack can usually take the edge off his resentment.

After I’ve made all the amends Oliver will allow right now—a sweet potato can only go so far—I head back inside to deal with my own resentment.

Not a single cabinet got installed today. And there’s no floor. I don’t understand. All the debris has been cleared out of the kitchen, and it’s obviously been well-swept, but they pulled up all the old flooring. New floor tile is part of the project, but why would they bring in the flooring materials already? I expected to see cabinets on the walls.