Love Among the Llamas by Annie Reed Read Free Book Online Page A

was just a woman in her
late twenties – okay, okay, twenty-nine, are you happy? – who was
tired of her everyday life.
    But had my everyday life been so bad? Maybe
if I turned around and went home, called my boss and told him I'd
overslept because I had a migraine, he wouldn't fire me.
    Right. And there really is a Santa Claus,
Virginia.
    "I am so screwed," I said to no one in
particular.
    I about jumped out of my skin when someone
answered me.
    "Could be worse," a male voice said.
"Doesn't look like you've got a flat, and your engine's still
running. You ain't having a baby in there, are you?"
    "No!" Good lord, no. You have to have a
boyfriend – or at least a man with a working organ and a
willingness to use it – to have a baby.
    I craned my head around and saw the owner of
the voice standing near the back of my car. My heart quit pumping
double time out of fear and started thumping for a whole new
reason.
    If I'd been a Hollywood casting director
looking for the next Sam Elliott lookalike for the next big budget
Western (do they still make Western anymore?), I could have stopped
my search right then. The guy was tall but not too tall, lanky but
a strong-looking kind of lanky, with a craggy face that looked
ruggedly handsome rather than old and worn out. He had on a cowboy
hat (of course), but the hair beneath it was wavy brown shot
through with the beginnings of what I imagined would be a full head
of steel grey hair when he hit sixty. He had a thick moustache and
his chin looked like he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. He had
on a well-worn blue plaid shirt and faded jeans, and (of course,
again) dusty cowboy boots.
    "Well, that's good," he said, his smile
digging deeper crags into his face. "I ain't never delivered a baby
before. Not if it don't have four legs and a powerful long neck, at
any rate."
    He was talking about llamas. "Is this your
place?" I asked. I wasn't sure if a the place where a person raised
llamas was called a ranch or a farm, and I didn't want to insult
him.
    He nodded at me. "That it is." I heard the Little Lady even though he didn't say it. Good lord, the guy
really was right out of Central Casting.
    I frowned at him. "You're putting me on,
right? Do you really talk that way, or is it just something the
tourists expect?"
    His eyes widened for a minute, then he
looked at the ground at his feet. I heard him chuckle. "Okay," he
said. "You got me."
    I knew it! Sure, I didn't know how I knew
it, but I did.
    When he looked back up, he was still
grinning, but he had color that didn't come from the sun in those
rugged cheeks. "Hope you don't hold it against me," he said. "But
not a lot of people stop out here." He shrugged. "I'm hoping to
make something out of this place someday. I'm still trying out the
patter."
    "No problem," I said. After all, I was
trying out a new life, too. Sort of. If I didn't chicken out and go
running back to my old one.
    The second of my reasons for stopping made a
sudden appearance. I'd polished off my decaf latte before I hit the
Fernley exit, and now I needed a bathroom. In a hurry.
    "Hey, is there a place around here where I
can use a restroom?" I asked. I hadn't seen a gas station or fast
food place since Fernley. I really should have stopped there and
taken care of things, but I wasn't exactly thinking straight.
    "Nearest gas station is ten miles back
toward town."
    Ten miles. I didn't think I could make ten
miles.
    He must have seen the hesitation on my
face.
    "Or you could come up to the house," he
said. "I promise I'm not a llama-raising serial killer."
    "Sure you're not," I said. "Isn't that what
all serial killers would say?"
    "Except for Dexter. He'd admit it."
    That he would. Dexter was one of my
favorite–
    "Hey, wait!" I said. "You watch Dexter ?"
    "Satellite dish," he said. "When you live
out in the middle of nowhere, it helps to have cable. Or the
equivalent."
    Huh.
    My bladder twinged.
    Good grief. It was either the
llama-rancher's bathroom or go pee