Page 48 of The Worst Possible Plan

“I know. It’s a big responsibility.” Names lasted. Or at least until somebody from the farm corrected me.

It leaned even harder against me, nearly knocking me sideways. For something covered in fluff, it had the structural integrity of a refrigerator.

I straightened. “Watch it. You’re going to make me fall.” I wrinkled my nose at its strong animal smell. Weirdly enough, it didn’t hit me as hard as yesterday. Maybe I was getting used to it.

“Name, name, name…” I tapped a finger against my chin. “Oh, you’re definitely a Theodore.”

The alpaca blinked.

“Oh yeah. Theodore,” I repeated thoughtfully. “Theo for short. You have very strong Theo energy. Sweet. Slightly needy. Completely convinced everybody wants to hug you.” Also the sort of guy who’d text “You home?” three minutes after leaving.

Theo hummed again, sounding absurdly pleased with himself. Looked like I’d nailed it.

Bandit, seemingly jealous, attempted to nibble Theo’s ear. Friendship, in goat language, involved low-level harassment.

Theo ignored him. Either he was remarkably patient, or he’d simply accepted this was his life now.

“You know,” I said, looking from one to the other, “I’ve known you guys less than two days, and you’re already becoming emotionally exhausting.” Which, now that I thought about it, might actually have said more about me than them.

Theo responded by pressing his head even more firmly against my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I muttered, smiling despite myself. “You are impossible.” Which, unfortunately, seemed to be exactly my type lately.

A nearby hay bale looked surprisingly comfortable.

I wobbled over, my legs feeling like they were filled with cement, and lowered myself onto it with considerably less grace than I’d intended. I felt like I was in the body of an eighty-year-old. Every limb protested the movement. If anyone had filmed that descent, it would’ve qualified as interpretive dance inspired by muscle failure.

“Ow.” Every muscle complained. I hadn’t noticed how tired I was until my butt hit the hay. And now, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get back up.

Bandit wandered over, gave me one thoughtful look, and then settled down a few feet away with a long, satisfied sigh. He was more like a dog than a goat, that one.

Theo bounded over too and immediately pressed himself against my shoulder, nudging me with his head and demanding more scratches.

“If you try to sit on me, we’re going to have words,” I said, trying—and failing—to push him off.

I tried again, putting more effort into it. I took a breath and coughed, something tickling the back of my throat.

“Great. I think I inhaled some of your fur.”

Eww.

I spat on the ground.

Nope. The fur was still lodged in my throat.

Was I about to get up and freak out?

No.

I was just too tired to care.

I looked around the pen. “You know…” Bandit blinked up at me. Theo continued existing directly in my personal space while Daisy—my new name for the smaller alpaca—watched us from a few feet away. “I think you guys might actually be the least judgmental audience I’ve had in years.”

Daisy sneezed.

“I’ll take that as encouragement.” I scratched behind Theo’s ears. “You know what today was?” I paused thoughtfully. “Besides emotionally exhausting, physically humiliating, and strangely educational.”

Theo’s jaw moved in slow, lazy circles.