Single All the Way (Single Dads of Dragonfly Lake #2)

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Emerson

T uesday evening all hell broke loose.

I was nearly finished with Everly Henry’s cut and highlight, my last client of the day. We were running a little late because she’d required extra toning time, so the other stylists had gone home, and I’d told Edith she could go as well.

As I turned Everly to the mirror for the final reveal, she preened and oohed and aahed, and my phone rang. I allowed a few seconds to gauge her reaction and felt the pang of satisfaction when her eyes lit up and her smile widened genuinely.

“Emerson, I love it,” Everly said.

“Excellent! Going one shade lighter really makes your eyes pop. You’re gorgeous!” Finally I pulled my phone out and saw Ben’s name. “I better take this. Give me two minutes, and I’ll get you checked out.” I gave her the hand mirror so she could see the back.

“Take your time,” Everly said, admiring her new do from every angle.

“Hey, Ben,” I said into the phone, pacing away from her.

“Hi, Emerson.” His voice was all business. “I got an emergency house call for a horse. I just got off the phone with Berty, so she knows the change in plans. I’m not going to make it to the play tonight.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s fine. Berty and I can handle the kids. I’m sorry you can’t make it, but go take care of that horse. We’ll be okay.”

“Thanks. I don’t know how long this’ll take, but I’m still twenty minutes out from the horse.”

“I’m running late myself, but I’m betting Berty’s already got the kids eating.”

“She does.”

“Is it snowing?” I asked him, glancing out the salon’s back window.

“Tiny flakes. Just started.”

“Word is they changed the forecast tonight from flurries to six inches.” Everyone had been buzzing with their take on the weather all afternoon. “Keep an eye on that.”

“Will do. Enjoy the play, okay? Sorry to miss.”

“It can’t be helped. The kids’ll fill you in when they see you, I’m sure.”

We disconnected, and I checked out Everly, hugged her, and said goodbye. I quickly cleaned my station, locked up, and rushed out to head home so I could grab a few bites before the kids, Grandma Berty, and I headed to the high school holiday production.

I’d no sooner turned onto Honeysuckle Road toward Ben’s than my phone rang again. Darius’s name appeared on the dash screen.

“Hi, Darius.”

“Hey, Emerson. I wanted to let you know an offer came through this evening on that property we looked at yesterday. You still good with your decision?”

“I am,” I said without hesitation.

As we’d gone through that house, I’d tried to keep an open mind, as he’d suggested. It needed a lot of work. A lot . There was enough room in my budget that I could’ve handled some of the more pressing projects right away, but that wasn’t the reason I’d easily decided it wasn’t the right property for my kids and me.

The twenty acres were partially wooded, but the section the house was on included a vast, heavily landscaped yard that was painstakingly cared for by the previous owners until they’d become no longer able to handle the work. Apparently they were a retired couple who loved gardening more than home maintenance and spent most of their days tending the gardens, weeding the flower beds and stone paths, and keeping more than twenty bird feeders full. Though everything but the evergreens was dead and brown right now, the photos from other seasons had shown a stunning landscape suited for a garden show and full-color magazines. I couldn’t imagine keeping it up.

“You passed the litmus test,” Darius said with a chuckle. “That’s good news. I like to make sure there’s no second-guessing. Personally I think you made the right decision.”

“My only concern is how soon I’ll have more options,” I said. “But I know you’ll keep me posted.”

“You know I will,” he repeated. “I’m watching every day, checking in with my colleagues. We’ll find the right place for you and those kiddos.”

“Thanks, Darius. I appreciate you letting me know.”

“Hopefully I’ll talk to you soon with more options,” he said. “You have a good evening.”

After ending the call, I turned into Ben’s driveway, noting the clinic lights were out for the evening, and all the cars were gone, including Ben’s truck with his supplies. As I pulled up to the house, I noticed the animals were still in the pasture. Ben had likely forgotten them when the emergency call had come in.

“Crap,” I said as I turned off the engine and grabbed my purse. I knew enough to understand we needed to get them in before too much snow fell or the temperature dropped for the night. “Looks like we’re going to figure out how to get horses and llamas inside.”

I jogged inside and found Grandma Berty and the kids at the table, eating.

“I’m sorry we didn’t wait,” Berty said. “I wanted to have them ready in time for the play.”

“I’m glad you got them started.” I noted their plates were nearly empty. “We have a problem. The horses and llamas are still out, and Ben’s?—”

“Out on an emergency,” she finished for me. The dear, seventy-something woman stood. “Did he close the barn doors today?”

“Daddy said he closed them because he wanted the animals to get some exercise,” Ruby said. “Since it’s supposed to be snowy for the next few days and they’ll have to stay inside.”

“We just need to open the doors and feed them,” Evelyn said.

Perfect. Just feed the animals who were six times my size and could trample me in a heartbeat. “Okay,” I said.

“The kids can go out with you and take care of it,” Grandma Berty said, thankfully unaware of my feelings toward the llamas. “They’re just about done eating.”

Her lack of concern helped me relax slightly. “Okay.” I picked up a dinner roll and ripped off a bite, my coat and boots still on.

“You want to eat first?” Berty asked.

I shook my head. “I want the animals in. The snow’s picking up.”

The older woman went to the window. “Goodness gracious. Evelyn, are you about finished, honey?”

“I’m done, Grandma.”

Thank God.

“You should put on your snow boots,” Evelyn said as she carried her plate past me to the sink.

“Good idea.” I was so out of my element with barn stuff it wasn’t funny. My outdoor boots were in the mudroom. I slid my brown cowboy boots off and replaced them with the weatherproof ones.

Five minutes later, the three older kids were bundled up and ready to help. While Skyler helped Berty take care of the kitchen, I led the older three outside, acting confident. I was mostly just confident Ben’s girls knew what they were doing, and probably my son did too.

As we approached the pasture, I noted the three horses were gathered at the fence, watching us, as if to say, Hurry up, humans. We’re hungry!

I spotted one of the llamas along the fence on the opposite side of the property and scanned for the other one. I frowned, not immediately seeing the white one, a knot forming in my gut.

Not losing hope, I kept searching the pasture, easily visible with the whiteness of the snow cover reflecting light. I angled out to better see up against the barn, thinking maybe she’d huddled for protection from the weather.

Panic welled up in me, but I fought it down and said, “Where’s the other llama?”

“Oh, no,” Ruby drew out. “Esmerelda, not tonight.”

Her dramatic tone would’ve been amusing, except I was so far into freaking out that I couldn’t appreciate it. I looked to Evelyn, who’d moved ahead of me, her head going left, then right, then left again.

“I don’t see her,” Evelyn said. “I have a bad feeling she escaped again.”

Shit, shit, shit. Worst nightmare, happening now. “What do we do?” I asked.

“She’s probably going to the bakery,” Ruby said matter-of-factly.

“Super.”

“You’ll have to take the van to get her,” Evelyn said.

“I’m going to text your dad and see if he’s almost home.” I knew he wasn’t. It hadn’t been a half hour since I’d talked to him. He’d probably barely arrived at the sick horse’s barn.

One of the horses—Bay, I thought—whickered in greeting as we reached the fence.

The four of us verified that we were down a llama. I stifled a whole stream of swear words and took out my phone as Evelyn led the other kids into the barn to feed the animals and opened the big doors. I typed a message to Ben.

SOS. Very sorry to bother you, but one of the llamas got out. What do I do?

I paced helplessly, trusting the kids could feed the animals. I settled my gaze on Betty, the brown and white llama, as she hurried toward the barn along with the horses.

When my phone sounded, I exhaled in relief and realized Ben was calling me instead of texting.

“Hey,” I answered before the first ring ended. “I’m so sorry to interrupt you, but I didn’t know what to do.”

“Do you know where Esmerelda is?”

“Not yet. We just realized she’s missing.”

“Fucking llama,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sure she’s headed to Sugar. Call Max. He and Harper know how to catch her and load her up. You’ll need to take the llamamobile to pick her up. The keys are hanging by the door.”

Just pick up the llama like she was a kid who’d gone to a party and was ready to come home. In the llamamobile. Sure thing.

“Can you send me Max’s number?” I said, fully aware time was precious on his end.

“I will. Max will be able to help with everything. I have to go. Sorry, Ems.”

Ems. The nickname soothed me ever so slightly in this otherwise panicked moment.

Almost as soon as the call ended, Ben sent Max’s contact info. Without wasting time feeling bad for interrupting his night, I dialed Max and explained the problem to him and let out my breath when he said he’d help me.

The ridiculously named llamamobile was stupidly hard to drive, thanks to an old, temperamental manual transmission nightmare. The worsening snowstorm didn’t help.

Grandma Berty had happily volunteered to take the kids to the play and had them pack a bag for a sleepover at her house afterward. She was incredible and maybe half-crazy to take on all four of them, but I trusted her completely and was grateful for one less thing to juggle.

By the time I made it the few miles to town, Harper had called to let me know Esmerelda had turned up on Main Street and actually tried to enter the bakery when Tansy Harrelson had gone in to pick up cookies for her daughter’s preschool class. Harper was waiting in the car with Danny while Max, Cade McNamara, and his mom worked on catching the rogue llama.

“How is this my life?” I asked out loud after disconnecting from Harper so I could find a place to park the llama transporter.

When I turned onto Main, traffic was stopped for the would-be cookie thief. I wish I was joking about that. On the bright side, hopefully that meant no llama roadkill today.

I shuddered. I might not love that llama, but Ben and his kids did. Probably Xavier too. I had to get Esmerelda home safely.

I pulled the llama buggy up as close as I could, a few doors down from Sugar, turned on the hazards, grabbed the harness, and got out. As I crossed the street toward the commotion, I took in the scene. Cade and Mrs. McNamara were handling crowd control, keeping the onlookers well out of the way, while Sheriff Lopez began addressing the traffic bottleneck.

Esmerelda, in all her shaggy white glory, eyed Max disdainfully from the covered entryway of the bakery as he slowly approached her.

As I got closer, I spotted the cookie in Max’s hand. So much drama for a four-inch disk of sugar.

I took the harness to Max, moving slowly to avoid spooking her. Max grabbed it with an outstretched hand and whispered, “We’ll meet you at the van.”

Inside the bakery, a handful of people had gathered to watch the operation through the glass door.

When I reached Cade on the sidewalk, about twenty feet down from the llama, I stopped, looked at him, and said words I’d never in a million years thought would come out of my mouth.

“I’m here to give the llama a ride home.”

Cade laughed. “Better you than me. Max seems close to capturing her.”

“Hallelujah?” I joked. “Life is weird.”

“Indeed. Ben’s unavailable?”

“He’s saving a horse.”

“And you’re saving his llama.” Cade laughed again.

“I’ve got her,” Max called, his voice gentled.

Sheriff Lopez had diverted traffic around the square, clearing the street in front of the bakery, so I jogged back to the llama limo and pulled it close to where Max had the fugitive. The snow was now coming down so hard I needed to turn on the windshield wipers to see.

I got out of the llama getter, determined to not look like a sixteen-year-old boy honking in the driveway to pick up a date, but the truth was, I stood by the driver’s door and let Max and Cade load her.

As I watched them lead Esmerelda to the back doors of the van, using the cookie like a carrot, I made a point of not shrinking up against the vehicle. The llama didn’t eat people. I knew this. As they passed, she gave me the side-eye, as if she knew I was the one who’d discovered her escape. I was the one raining on her sugar parade.

“You’re getting a cookie,” I pointed out to her. “Spoiled beast.”

Mrs. McNamara approached me from the side, holding out a bakery box. “Just in case,” she said. “Tansy came out the back way with an extra dozen.”

“Either that llama’s going to gain a hundred pounds or I am,” I said, smiling, sincerely grateful because I still had to somehow get the llama into the barn.

The back van doors shut, and Max came around to my side. “One llama locked up for your transporting pleasure.”

“Thank you so much, Max,” I said. “I literally could not have done that without you.”

“Ben knows my whiskey brand,” he replied, laughing. “It was no problem. She’s pretty docile, really.”

I eyed the llama, whose funny-looking head was facing forward, close to the metal mesh that would keep her from taking a bite out of me on the way home. She met my gaze as she smugly chewed her cookie.

“Anything else we can help you with?” Cade asked kindly, obviously having no trepidation around llamas.

For a split second, I considered asking this llama-wrangling team to follow me home and get Esmerelda in the barn for me. But the snow wasn’t letting up. Harper and Danny were waiting for Max, and for all I knew, the McNamaras had people waiting for them too. I could put on my big-girl panties and get this fucking llama in her pen by myself.

I shook my head and forced a warm smile. “I’ve got it from here. Thank you all. So much.” I hugged each one of them in gratitude, watched them walk away with more than a little anxiety, then climbed into the driver’s seat without a glance at my prisoner.

I started the engine and pulled the van over to the right lane, turning the wipers up a level against the relentless wet snowflakes. The most direct route to get her home would be to take a right and circle the square instead of winding through residential areas.

There were a lot of cars out tonight, in part due to the backup from Ms. Traffic Stopper herself, so it was slow going. As the car in front of me stopped, I hit the brakes, trying to figure out what the holdup was. Then I spotted a gloved hand popping out of the driver’s window and motioning me around them.

Slowly I drove forward, waved at the courteous driver, then realized the next car was pulled to the curb as well…and the one in front of that. They were all letting me pass them, as if I was driving a parade car with the president of the United States in back.

“You’re getting a pretty high opinion of yourself, aren’t you?” I said as we took a right turn onto Honeysuckle Road by Henry’s and headed home.

She huffed out a snort that startled me so badly I went airborne in the seat, my heart taking off in a sprint. In my defense, it was the first sound I’d heard her make tonight, and it was right behind my ear.

“That was rude,” I chided once I caught my breath and avoided driving into the ditch. “And not safe at all.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because the llama began groaning, sounding like a long, drawn-out moo that kept on going.

“You don’t have to be a drama queen,” I said, noting that the snow had started sticking to the road, making it slick and slushy. “If you land me in the ditch, we’re eating llama for Christmas dinner.”

Ben’s driveway was less than ten miles from town, but between the snow pelting the van and the llama groaning nonstop, the drive was the longest ten minutes of my life.

When I pulled up as close as I could get to the barn door, I realized the fun had only just begun.