“Can we get back to the point?” When he only looked bewildered, she pointed at the book he was carrying. “Your llama ranch.”
“Right. So I was researching the mystery-llama problem—which would make an excellent band name by the way—and I found some websites for llama ranches. One in Oregon. One in Idaho. There’s a bunch more, but these places raise llamas to sell, or to use as pack animals. Some people even shear them for yarn. I mean, the possibilities are endless.”
She closed her eyes tight, counted to ten. Honestly, she had to be dreaming. One of the biggest hockey players in the NHL was not standing here telling her he wanted to start a llama ranch. It just wasn’t possible.
But when she opened her eyes, he was still there, glasses in one hand, Llamas for Dummies in the other. As serious as could be.
Llama ranching.
She blew out a breath and tried to figure out how to handle this bizarre turn of events. Even when she thought she had Dan pegged or beaten or something, he found a way to be…completely unpredictable.
Like she needed another complex, unpredictable relationship in her life. Even if it was only a working relationship, it still meant some give and take. Per usual, she was in the all-give position. Though she had to admit that Dan took much less than the rest of the people in her life.
Oh, she was so sick of feeling sorry for herself.
“You know, normal ranch herds include cattle, horses. The end.”
“Well, exactly. It’s been done a million times. Why not do something different?”
“So, are you looking for the consultant who tells you you’re an idiot or the consultant who helps you despite being an idiot?”
He seemed to consider, looking over at the barn/llama stable on the hill. “Let’s go with the latter.”
“I don’t know anything about llamas.”
He grinned, all dazzle and spark. “Then we can learn together.”
She supposed it was that dazzle, that smile and the way it radiated fun and ease and just a touch of “why the hell not” kind of attitude that got under her skin so much. That made her lips curve upward in a return smile. That could all but see his ridiculous plan working out.
It was a dangerous dazzle, because it made her want. She could see this different life, this different path, where things weren’t so hard, where she wasn’t tied to this land she loved with balls and chains.
And as always, that want, that brief flash of different, was like being punched in the gut. A light she’d never be able to enjoy. So her smile died, and she frowned at his book. “You’ll need more than that to get started.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve got more inside. This isn’t a whim.”
“Isn’t it?”
He shook his head and started marching for his dilapidated old house, marching with a kind of purpose she’d never seen from him. She would not be swayed by that purpose, or drowned in it. She had her own purpose.
Twenty grand.
So she walked after him, determined to be as helpful as she could for the duration she had to put up with his crazy scheme to start a llama ranch. Llamas.
She had to admit, she was still surprised that he hadn’t brought in a bunch of people to make this place more habitable yet. It was still old, dusty, and creaky, but it didn’t seem to bother him.
He had papers and books all over the old, filmy kitchen table. A laptop sat in the middle of it, all shiny and expensive and way nicer than her and Caleb’s shared desktop that whirred and offered the blue screen of death more often than actually booting up.
“Where did you get all this?”
“Library.”
“The library closes at four. We work until after five every day. How did you—”
“I emailed, um, what’s her name, Jenny? She had someone drop off a bunch of stuff for me last night. I got my Internet set up too, though it’s so damn slow I want to throw my laptop out of the window half the time.”
“And you…”
He picked up a stack of stapled-together papers, and waved them at her. “Examples. Of other llama ranches.”
She took the outstretched papers and began to flip through them. Printouts of llama ranch websites. She knew next to nothing about it, but other than the type of care the animals got, the setup couldn’t be all that different from her cattle.
What was left of their herd anyway.
“This guy has a mullet,” she said, knowing it was unkind and beside the point.
“So?”
She flipped to another stapled-together packet. “This site says llamas are addictive.”
“Okay, it’s a little strange, but still. It’s not dependent on cattle prices, or a “horse having the right kind of baby” thing. Llama yarn is llama yarn. Pack animals are pack animals. It’s a low-risk investment.”