Chapter 16 #2
Eventually he seemed to regain some control over his body and sat up straighter, his arms banding around me like he’d never let me go.
“If that was an audition to be my Wednesday roll-in-the-hay lady, you got the gig.”
I laughed. “But only Wednesdays when the kids are trapped at Berty’s by a snowstorm?”
“For now.”
As my body came down from Ben Holloway, the temperature of the barn air registered, and I shivered.
“How is it I’m half-naked, and you’re still wearing your coat and jeans?” I asked.
“Hey, you did that yourself.”
I smiled, a little embarrassed at how aggressive I’d been. That wasn’t typical for me.
“I fucking loved it,” he added, as if sensing my thoughts.
“I’m glad, but now I’m freezing.” I kissed him, then disconnected our bodies and scrambled to get my sweatpants back on.
Ben stood and put himself back together too. When we were both dressed, if not desperately in need of a hot shower, he advanced on me, put his arms around me, then pressed my back into the support pillar that went to the roof as he kissed me soundly.
“You turn me inside out, Emerson.”
“You make me rip my clothes off and mount you,” I said back, laughing.
“Feel free to do that every day.”
We kissed some more, slower now, more affection than urgency.
A human-like humming sounded, startling me.
Ben broke contact and laughed. “Esmerelda’s hungry.”
“That’s her?”
He nodded. “She communicates a lot. She wants her breakfast.”
“Last night in the van she was louder, more distressed.”
“She groans in the van. Hums when she thinks it’s past time for a meal.”
“What about Betty?”
“She’s hardly ever in the van since she doesn’t run away like Esmerelda. She doesn’t vocalize much at all.”
The humming sounded from below us again.
“Demanding llama,” I said.
“She’s special.” He laughed. He heaved a bale of hay and tossed it over the railing to the large center aisle below, then sent a second one behind it.
We headed down the steps, and Ben showed me how to fill the llamas’ troughs with hay. Esmerelda was first. I felt bad for Betty, the better-behaved llama, because Esmerelda made sure she was served first.
As Ben spread Esmerelda’s hay out in her trough, I watched and gathered my courage. I knew llamas didn’t normally bite people, and I had made it through getting Esmerelda in her stall last night. Ben had reassured me they only spit when they felt threatened.
Betty stretched her neck out over the half wall of the stall, watching as her sister-in-llamahood dug in to the hay.
“You’re hungry too, aren’t you?” I said to her. She looked at me with those big, pretty eyes as if to confirm that she was starving and just as worthy as the loud, demanding creature in the next stall.
“I got you,” I told her, then grabbed a mound of hay and spread it in her trough.
Following Ben’s lead, I gave her several armfuls until we’d split the bale between the two.
“There you go, pretty girl,” I said as Betty chomped her hay and eyed me, not in an unfriendly way, more just curious. “Yes, I called you pretty. I love your spots.”
Ben sweet-talked Esmerelda, the high-drama llama, while I muttered praise to mellow Betty as she ate. Betty stuffed her mouth with hay for a few seconds at a time, then lifted her head, stalks of hay sticking out every which way as she chewed and studied me.
Now that I was this close and receiving no threatening vibes from this gentle creature, I was intrigued.
Maybe even fascinated. Llamas were so funny-looking, but the longer I watched Betty, the cuter I thought she was, with her understated enthusiasm for hay, her unabashed interest in me, and maybe even some gratitude around the edges.
“The horses need hay too,” Ben said, heading toward the second bale he’d thrown over.
“Okay,” I said without moving. “I’ll hang out with you,” I told Betty in a softer voice.
Before taking another mouthful, she paused, stepped closer to me, tilted her head slightly, then ducked her head for more hay directly in front of me, telling me she was comfortable. I wasn’t sure why, but she seemed friendly and approving of me in spite of my nervousness.
On the other end of the barn, I could hear Ben talking to the horses as he delivered their second course. His affection for all these animals was obvious and oddly endearing. So was what he could do to me in a hayloft, to be honest.
I kept up a one-sided conversation with Betty as she ate, admiring her brown spots and her thick coat.
A few minutes later, when she finished her mouthful, she paused and looked at me, poking her snout over the trough and half wall so she was inches from my face.
I froze and waited to see what she would do; not gonna lie, I felt a little intimidated.
“Hey, sweet girl,” I said, working hard not to flinch or jolt away. I was starting to trust her.
Before I could register what was happening, she pressed her snout against my cheek then straightened. It tickled and drew a giggle from me.
“What is happening here?” Ben asked from behind me as he approached. “Betty, you big sweetheart. First Smoky goes for you, and Betty just kissed you, Ems.”
“Yeah?” I looked at Betty, then turned to gauge Ben’s face to see if he was serious.
“Without a doubt. That was her way of saying she likes you.”
I’d never given thought to a llama’s approval or friendship, but as I looked into the gentle beast’s eyes again, I felt a gratification and affection that stunned me.
“Can I pet her?”
“Try rubbing her neck,” he said.
I stepped up to the half wall and tentatively reached for her. Betty leaned into my hand as I rubbed her soft, furry neck and laughed quietly. She moved forward and nuzzled me in return.
“You are a lovey,” I said, hugging her with a hand on the back of her neck. The hug ended quickly, and I wondered if I’d interpreted it right. I looked to Ben as he came up to my side.
“I’ve never seen her do anything like that,” Ben said, his tone awed. “I believe Ms. Betty has a new favorite human.”
I laughed and petted her neck again, thoroughly charmed by the big, furry girl with the gorgeous eyes.
Ben
“I’m going to feed the chickens. You’re welcome to stay here with your new bestie if you want,” I told Emerson. “I’ll come back in fifteen or twenty minutes so we can trek back to the house together.”
“You don’t mind if I don’t help with the chickens?”
“Not at all.”
As a matter of fact, I needed a minute.
I pressed a kiss to the side of her head only to have Betty stick her nose between us possessively, making Emerson laugh.
“Back in a few,” I said.
I hurried off, absently telling the horses goodbye. When I stepped out into the cold morning, where a cloudy day had dawned, I inhaled deeply, trying to get my mind right.
I’d realized in the barn, as Emerson looked awestruck at her newfound friendship with my llama, something not good at all had happened without me realizing it.
I was in love with her.
Emerson, not the llama.
The woman who’d made no bones about swearing off forevers and happily-ever-afters for good.
I took my time getting to the chicken house, hoping again that the biting wind would straighten out my head.
It didn’t.
There was something to be said for a quickie in the hayloft in the middle of a snowstorm. Emerson, who I never would’ve expected to get naked in a barn, had stunned me with her brazenness and sent me to the stars with her gorgeous body.
Then, to watch her, so uneasy around the llamas just a week ago, laugh with pure joy at Betty’s friendly advances?
Be still my traitorous heart. I was a goner.
And that, of course, was a big fucking problem.