by Ellie Hall
I couldn’t keep going like this, wanting him but knowing I would never have him. I would never be able to have a normal life living close to Jude.
After today, I was going to avoid him at all costs. I was going to take Operation Avoid Jude to the next level: Expert.
Maybe I’d try to find myself a boyfriend. Something to distract me. Anything. Maybe I’d finally let sweet Nelda from church set me up. She told me her great-grandson was perfect for me and sang his praises whenever I spoke with her.
A date with Nelda’s great-grandson would be the perfect thing to distract me from Jude. So what if the grandson was allergic to animals? I’d have to give him a Benadryl every time we hung out since I seemed to be covered in dog hair all the time.
From training stock dogs, to having my own dogs, and the cats at the store, I wasn’t exactly compatible with someone who was allergic to animals—or someone who wasn’t used to animals.
Jude didn’t bat an eye when my dog climbed up to rest her head on his shoulder and began licking his ear at some point. He told her to knock it off like it was no big deal. Even worse, the little traitor listened to him.
He was so good with animals—except llamas, apparently.
I was curious what he was going to do with it, actually. I wasn’t offering to help him figure that part out. My help ended when we unloaded the trailer.
I’d have to find out the end of the llama story from someone else. That was the great thing about rumor mills—you learned things quickly in a town with less than two thousand people.
After a painfully quiet drive, for which I had no one else to blame but myself, I pulled into Jude’s driveway.
The small pasture in the front was full of lush grass. His K-line irrigation was keeping it green even as other crops were already beginning to turn for the summer.
The fence was gorgeous. It would be impossible to make it any straighter than it was. Woven wire with wood posts around the outside edges. It was the perfect livestock fence.
But this was no ordinary llama we were dealing with. That was obvious from the five-minute interaction I’d had with it. A straight fence didn’t mean that it would stay in. And while it was a fence I would keep nearly any other animal in—bulls, ornery cows, deranged emus—it was probably not enough for a chariot-racing llama. Although I still wasn’t sure I believed Jude about that claim.
“Jude, I don’t know how to tell you this, but your fence isn’t high enough for that llama.”
“I don’t think any fence is high enough for that llama,” he replied. I bit my lip to keep from laughing, glad that he wasn’t offended by my remark. He built fences for a living. It wasn’t very nice of me to pick on his job.
“I think if you ran electric wire around the top, that might help deter it.”
“Know of anywhere I can buy a fence charger?” he teased, knowing full well that my feed store carried just about anything you could need for livestock.
“I happen to know of a great local store that carries them at a high markup,” I replied, hating the fact that I was enjoying slipping back into our old habits of teasing each other.
He let out a loud laugh. “This llama might break my bank.”
“Well, what do you want to do with it in the meantime?”
“I don’t exactly have a barn set up to hold a llama. But I do have a taller dog fence around my yard. We could stick it in there in the meantime. I can run up an electric wire this weekend. I can feed it hay or whatever llamas eat. As long as you think the fence around my house is high enough, we’ll do that.”
I pulled up closer to the house and backed the trailer toward the side gate. The dog fence would be plenty high for the llama. It could barely reach its head over the top.
“What kind of dog were you planning on getting? An elephant?”
“I wasn’t sure yet. I haven’t been home long enough to decide.”
He’d been home six months. How long did it take to decide what kind of dog you wanted?
“But I do remember that dog you had in high school, the escape artist,” he said.
I smiled as I thought about that dog. It had been an escape artist. Brilliantly evil. It had loved Jude too.
Shaking my head, I tried to ignore the memories and instead focus on unloading a crazy llama.
“I’ll flag you back,” Jude offered.
He jumped out of the passenger side while I was still backing up and hurried to open the gate into the backyard. I waited until he was out of the way to resume backing up.
Things were awkward enough between us. Running him over wouldn’t make that any better.
He waved me off when I was back far enough. I shut off the pickup and cracked the windows enough for Millie and Popcorn to have fresh air but not enough that Millie could push the window down and climb out. That had happened a time or a hundred before. She was also the ultimate escape artist because she didn’t like to miss out on any animal action. It was a border collie thing.
Unfortunately, there were certain times when you didn’t need a dog in the mix. And when you were releasing a chariot-racing llama into a backyard, that was one time when you didn’t want the livestock dog right there with you, agitating it more.
By the time I got to the back of the trailer, Jude had the gate set and the door unlocked.
“Are you ready for this?” Jude asked.
“I don’t know, are you? That’s the real question. You’re the one who has to deal with this thing. My job is done once this llama is out of the trailer.”
Jude grinned at me. “I don’t know about that. I might make you help me check on this thing regularly.”
I pointed at him and narrowed my eyes. “I charge a hefty consultation fee, for the record.”
His grin was annoyingly cute. His dimples popped out, and his white teeth flashed in the sunlight. “You’re worth it,” he said.
“You haven’t seen your bill for hauling this thing yet.”
He laughed and pulled open the trailer door then immediately yelped when the llama jumped out straight after him. He was quick enough to jump out of the way as he swung the gate wide.
Too bad I wasn’t as quick, and Jude ended up stepping back onto my foot, bumping into me. I latched onto the back of his shirt to keep from being knocked flat.
“Oops, sorry,” he apologized. He kept his hold on the gate and reached behind his back to hang onto my arm, as though he were still worried that I was going to topple over.
We watched as the llama darted into the yard and ran to stand in the middle. It turned to stare at us, its bottom teeth sticking out over its upper lip. He really was a homely thing. Someone must have told him that, with that attitude.
Jude had the presence of mind to slam the trailer gate closed then quickly latch the yard gate. Instead of running around like a crazy thing, the llama blinked at us then promptly began eating grass—as though it were a completely different animal than the one we caught sprinting down the road.
“Well, that was anti-climactic,” I laughed and looked at the llama that was busy eating long, lush grass. “You must not believe in owning a lawnmower.”
“Too bad I can’t even claim that it’s to reduce my carbon footprint. It’s more that I just haven’t bought a lawnmower since moving back,” Jude answered.
“It looks like you own one now.” The llama ate frantically. It acted like it had never seen grass so green. Maybe it hadn’t.
“I guess we better get it a bucket of water or something,” Jude said.
“Probably a good plan,” I replied. “Do you have a hose around here somewhere?”
“Check the front side of the house and see if I still have that hose hooked up. I’ll run to the shop and find some kind of bucket.” Jude took off for the shop, and I walked around the front of the house to look for said hose. A big black hose hung around a hook on the side of the house.
Unhooking it, I dragged it around to the yard gate before I went back and turned the water on. Jude met m
e at the gate the second time, holding a bucket. I picked up the hose and kinked it on the end to keep it from spraying everywhere.
“Look at that. It’s so calm now,” Jude commented. “It must feel at home here.”
I stared at the llama, still not liking the look in the llama’s eyes, even though it was busy eating that soft grass.
“We must be llama whisperers,” Jude said. “Being a llama owner isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Maybe it just needs some love and attention.” His gushing voice made me laugh.
“You know how I’m good at love and affection,” he teased.
“Oh, I know,” I answered dryly. “You’re an overwhelming fountain of PDA.” I rolled my eyes. Jude was the furthest thing from a public-display-of-affection kind of guy. The only physical contact I had seen him have with other people was a half-second handshake or a high five. Whenever someone cornered him for a hug, he turned into a stiff statue.
“I could be,” he said in a growly voice that shot straight through me.
Let’s just say that when we’d been dating, he’d saved all of that physical affection for me…
“Don’t get any ideas,” I told him. “Open that gate so we can water this llama. I need to get back to the store. This is the longest lunch break in the history of Boones-Dock.”
With a heavy sigh that said he was sad I didn’t take him up on his offer of PDA, he unlatched the gate and stepped inside, holding it open for me.
I followed him inside, dragging the black hose behind me.
The llama’s ears twitched, but other than that, it didn’t change its eating position. Maybe Jude was right. Maybe it was settling into its new home already. I really didn’t spend that much time around llamas. I trained stock dogs for cattle and sheep—not llamas.
Every once in a while, I would deal with the occasional llama out in the field as it was common for them to be used as guard animals with a herd of sheep. And usually then you had to watch your dogs, because those llamas were used to chasing coyotes out of a field and tended to treat dogs the exact same way.
But my personal experience of taking care of a llama was very brief. I’d only owned one for one short month before I sold it. It always seemed a little high-strung to me in my brief encounters. But maybe in the right environment they calmed right down. How was I to know?
Jude latched the gate and followed me to the shady corner. He set the tub down while I straightened the kink in the hose. A spritz of water shot back at me.
“Do you think it’ll knock it over right here?” Jude asked as the water sprayed loudly into the bottom.
“We’ll shove it in the corner, and you can keep an eye on it. When you have time, you can wire it to the fence to hold it there. But if you plan on running an electric wire around your pasture, you might as well put a stock tank out there with an automatic waterer. Then, you’ll never have to worry about it running out on hot days when you’re at work.”
“Yeah, good point,” Jude said. “Besides, I know someone who probably sells those at a high markup just like those fence chargers.”
“You know it,” I replied, deciding I’d double the price just for him.
“Should I follow you back to the store after this? Or should I just give you the routing number to my bank account so you can clean me out?” he teased.
The water swirled quickly toward the top of the bucket, mesmerizing me, which was why I wasn’t prepared when Jude yelled loudly, grabbed me around the waist, and threw me over his shoulder.
5
Ruby
Jude’s broad shoulder dug into my stomach as he sprinted toward the yard gate. His arm held tight to my legs, and I clung to his waist to keep from getting dropped on my head.
Unfortunately, this was not the first time I’d been tossed over his shoulder. Usually, it involved less clothes and the dock at the lake, though—and a lot more laughter.
Right now, I was wondering if he had officially lost his mind.
Some people did, if they lived in Boones-Dock too long.
We reached the yard gate, and he frantically unlatched it with his free hand that wasn’t gripping me around my thighs. My upper body was wrapped around his with my head hanging down at his butt. Finally lifting my head as he fumbled with the gate, I realized why we—he—was running. The crazed llama was coming straight for us at a dead run.
“Faster!” I urged.
Jude flipped open the gate and dashed through, barely pulling it closed before the llama slammed into it. I gasped.
“So much for a well-adjusted llama,” Jude grumbled.
“Was that llama trying to kill us?” I asked from where I still clung to his waist. I didn’t even care that I was still slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain. I was just glad that we had made it out of that pen without getting kicked. Llamas could be dangerous if they wanted to be.
Jude let out a nervous laugh. “I’m glad I looked up when I did. I almost missed seeing it run at us.”
“I’m glad you looked, too. I had my back to that thing. It probably would’ve stomped me like a coyote.”
“I didn’t give you much of a warning.” Jude’s large hand squeezed my thigh, and it crossed my mind that we were in an awkward position to be having this conversation.
He was still staring at the llama, I was still hanging over his shoulder, and my dog’s nose was pressed through the small crack of the truck window as it yelped at the excitement. Funny how dogs could sense a change in the air if something exciting was happening.
“Sorry I grabbed you and ran,” Jude apologized. His hand wandered up my thigh a little ways. His weight shifted, and I was pretty sure he was leaning an elbow against the fence post now. “I was worried with your knee that the llama might catch you.”
It was actually a very sweet thing for him to think of. Something only he would remember.
The ol’ football injury. I couldn’t run normally ever since. The Boones-Dock high school didn’t have many sports, but football was one of them, and everyone participated. Gender was no discriminator.
As long as they could put together a full team, they would take whomever they could get. And even if you weren’t willing, they would draft you. Luckily, I’d been willing, and I’d been a great kicker. But during an unfortunate scrimmage where they put me in as quarterback, the 260-pound linebacker had taken me out.
My knee never quite recovered. Even after surgery, I had limited movement. Walking was fine, even a light jog was okay, but a dead sprint? That was out of the question. Of course Jude would remember.
He’d been there on the field that day, and the coach had to pull him away from laying into the linebacker who really hadn’t meant anything by it. Let’s just say, they were careful to not put someone in as quarterback who was only 130 pounds. I’d caught air when it happened.
Jude had remembered, and it was sweet.
Do you know what else was sweet? The view I had draped over his shoulder. The man filled out a pair of jeans nicely. I hadn’t had a chance to admire it in a couple years, but the longer I hung over his shoulder, the more awkward I realized our situation was. “Er, Jude? Can you, um…can you put me down?”
He hummed and tapped a finger against the back of my leg. “That’s a good question. I guess it depends on the answer.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. I placed my hands on his back—sort of—and levered myself up enough to peer backwards and see the llama standing there staring at us. If a llama could smile, then this llama was doing it. It had a shockingly pleased look on its face.
It looked like it had planned this. As if it had planned for Jude to scoop me up and run off with me. It was a devil llama, just like he said.
Because hanging on to Jude wasn’t near as awful as it should’ve been—especially with Jude’s reluctance to let me go. He was giving me something I shouldn’t have had. False hope.
“Will you come inside and let me give you something to drink or eat?” he asked, still not hurrying to
set me down.
“Is this a hostage negotiation?” I asked, trying to wiggle out of his hold and slide down. He tightened his hold on my legs.
“You can call it what you like, but I’d really like the chance to talk to you, Ruby. We haven’t talked in…well, a very long time. And I think we’re overdue for a conversation.”
“I don’t know if that’s a conversation I want to have, Jude.” I cringed at the thought. In fact, it was a conversation I hoped we never would have.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” His large hand squeezed my leg gently.
“Yes. I’ve gotten really good at avoiding you,” I admitted. “So why would I want to have this conversation now?”
“Well, you can either have this conversation with my butt, or you can come inside and sit on the couch with me and have a chat.”
“I don’t think a chat has ever sounded so ominous. And I don’t mind the view right now.”
Jude laughed, his shoulder shaking and, in turn, bouncing me up and down. “In that case, we better go have this talk, and then I’ll let you admire the view anytime you want.”
He turned like he was going to carry me into the house.
“Jude. If you don’t want me to punch you in the kidney right now, you’re going to put me down.”
He bent down right away, knowing my threat wasn’t idle, but he moved at the speed of a sloth.
It shouldn’t take fifteen minutes to set someone on the ground.
Ok, so maybe it wasn’t that long, but it was long enough that I was able to experience every bump and muscle on the way down—and they were some nice muscles. His arm slid up to my waist when my feet hit the ground, and my chest was plastered against his. Thigh to thigh. My feet were on top of his work boots, giving me a height boost to where I could’ve easily leaned forward and kissed his jaw.
Not that I was even thinking of that. Nope.
My mind was too occupied with the fact that he wanted to talk.