Page 32 of The Art of Falling in Love with Your Enemy
Zac nods. “He’s perfect. He’s followed the path my mom wanted him to; he’s a lawyer, and man, he’s good at it.”
“My sibling is my twin, so you don’t have to tell me about trauma. I spent my childhood trying to form my own identity and then my teens trying to get out from under his shadow.”
Zac attempts to bite back a grin. “And now as an adult, you move to the town over from where he lives…”
“I know, it’s crazy-making, but I guess I’ll spend my adulthood trying to be the best sister I can be to him and his wife. I daydream about taking care of their kids.” Laughing, I take all of the half-pieces of paper and straighten them into a pile, handing them off to Zac. “Here. You’re ready for your random acts.”
“Thanks.” Zac reaches out for them and his hand touches mine, faltering for a moment. Frozen, I’m not moving as he strokes his finger over my wrist. Taking a deep breath, I raise my eyes to his. He opens his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted.
“Etta, do you have any trash bags? We need something for our lunch sacks and leftovers.”
My back is to the door, but I don’t have to turn around to know the voice. “We do, Lucy, in fact I put one in the trash can down by the lake earlier.” Tightening the smile on my face, I indicate beyond the window to the giant metal trash can by the picnic table on the lake shore.
“Oh, my,” she manages with her sweet, Southern drawl sounding like she’s added sugar to it. “I swear, I looked around and didn’t see it!”
“Well, that’s not a good trait for a police officer to admit.” Meaning to mumble it under my breath, I think we’re all shocked when I say these words out loud. Lucy’s eyes widen and swirl with storm clouds, and Zac literally bites his bottom lip, his eyes wide as saucers.
I need to fix this. “I mean, you know, if you were trying to collect evidence and you miss something, you don’t want to admit that you looked around and just ‘didn’t see it,’ right?”
My mother used to call my attempts at overcorrecting myself the greatest blunder ever. Nine times out of ten, me trying to make a situation better, I can make it worse. A point I’m proving right now.
“You know, Lucy, we’re about to do a new task.” Zac to the rescue. He hands her the paper. “Can you carry this down to the picnic table for me?”
“Of course.” She cuts her eyes my way as she takes the papers from Zac. She turns to go, but spins around and puts her hand on his arm. “Do we need to be in teams or paired up for this?” she asks, voice hopeful.
“Nope, no pairing up.” Zac’s a bit too cheerful as he delivers the disappointing news. Walking beside her, he throws a smile over his shoulder my way as they wander down to the lake.
A commotion out of the corner of my eye pulls my gaze from the two of them over to Dylan’s house. When I look, there’s nothing there, so I pull my eyes away and go back to staring at the back of Lucy’s head. That’s when a flash of something draws my attention back to Dylan’s.
Squinting my eyes, I look closer. When I do, my eyebrows lift in surprise all the way to my hairline. I’m no animal expert, but that looks like an alpaca walking around the outside of Dylan’s house toward me. On further inspection, I see that yes—we have one alpaca safely in the fenced-in area, but another one is wandering freely, eating Dylan’s front lawn.
Thankfully, I have Brett’s number on my phone. Pulling it up, I shoot him a quick text that one of his babies has gotten out before shoving the phone back into my pocket and heading out the door. I’ve never had to wrangle an alpaca before. How hard can it be?
As I make my way to Dylan’s, the alpaca freezes when he sees me coming. Stopping for a moment, I give it a second to make sure this animal isn’t going to charge me before I take a few more steps. The alpaca looks at me and walks straight toward me, which surprises me. We make eye contact for a moment before it suddenly pivots and changes direction, walking at a fast clip which turns into a light jog as it heads toward the lakefront.
When I follow the path in its trajectory, I can see only one obstacle in its way. Well, two really, and this won’t be pretty if they collide. The alpaca is picking up speed, now headed straight for Zac and Lucy.
Horrified, I do the only thing I can think of: I start screaming and running in the opposite direction of Lucy and Zac, waving my hands wildly in the air, hoping I steal the animal’s attention.
I hear the thudding of hooves on the ground behind me, telling me I’ve done my job well, and I swear to the heavens I’ve never in my life run this fast before. This is the kind of fast I think a perp would go when trying to get away from the cops, or maybe an Olympic athlete trying to win a gold medal. All I know is my chest is seizing and I’m running out of breath.
A quick glance over my shoulder tells me the alpaca is still hot on my heels and not focused on charging our guests.
But what do I do now?
A boat on the lake pulls my attention, reminding me there’s a dock here. A dock! Sprinting, I point myself to the long wooden plankway. It feels like it takes hours, yet I’m sure it’s only a few seconds until I’m within range. Once there, I fly through the air as I jump from the grassy lawn onto the dock.
My feet slap the planks with a thwack as I barrel down toward the end. I feel something touch my shoulder—a quick look back tells me Chewpaca or Tupaca, or whoever or whatever this animal is called, has caught up to me and I’m out of time.
The end of the dock is closer, the freedom of the lake waiting for me beyond. I get to the end and do the only thing one does when being chased by an out-of-control alpaca toward a lake.
I jump in.
FOURTEEN
Zac
As soon as I realize Etta’s jumped in the lake, I charge down the grassy lawn toward the dock. In my rush, I don’t notice Brett coming through the trees from the other side, both of us running in a V shape, our connection point being the beginning of the dock.
