I've dreamed of the perfect marriage ever since I was a little girl: a marriage complete with a hardworking husband while I tended to the home and our children, preferably four little rugrats to call my own. I dreamed of a life filled with laughter...
Author's Note: There's a second song I recommend listening to for this chapter as well, but I'm not sure how having two videos affects things, and I don't want to muddy the flow, so I'm just going to share it and you can listen to it on your own. It's "I Believe I Can Fly" by R. Kelley. I also like Ronan Keating's version.
You'll know when you know.
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"Thatta girl, Lottie! Don't let that thief get away," Penny shouts from behind me.
My legs pump rapidly, faster than they've ever pumped, as I chase after a giant llama, a llama by the name of Llamasley with a propensity for kleptomania. He's running at a teasing speed, a speed where I'm just close enough to think I can catch him, while I'm pretty sure my baby toes fell off a good minute ago. He's the newest member of the Hope Ranch Clan, arriving only two days ago, and he has been an absolute abominable nightmare.
"Run, Lottie-Dah, run!" Beau screams joining in with Penny. "Knees to chest. Knees. To. Chest."
I'm going to kill him. I'll show him knees to . . .
. . . Shoot. I can't breathe.
Okay, I will show him if I don't die first. Not dying should be my first goal, then I can show him.
This brings me back to my current predicament: me running after a llama that has stolen a pair of my underwear from the laundry basket. Not just any pair of underwear either. No. It'd be far too gracious of him to steal a fancy, lacy pair or a pair with cute cartoons on them. But, he stole those underwear. You know, the pair that stays hidden at the bottom of the drawer, buried beneath the cute pairs; the pair that only makes an appearance once a month; the pair that typically has a strange gray discoloration, long lost their elasticity, and holes around the band.
Yeah. Those pair.
And, he couldn't have the decency to be discrete about it, like balling them up and hiding them in his llama mouth or just swallowing them. I swear he's eaten at least three yards of fabric since his arrival. What's a tiny pair of underwear, Llamasley? But, that would require him not to live in a perpetual state of spite. So, rather than swallow the darn things, he has them firmly hooked on his crooked underbite, allowing my hideous underwear to wave like a high-flying flag as he gallops around the ranch like some kind of one-man honor guard.
And I'm mortified.
It doesn't help that Penny and Beau aren't far behind me, thinking they're helping when all they're doing is making themselves witnesses to my greatest shame. Why can't they trip already? He's a computer nerd, albeit a good-looking computer nerd, and she's a third-grade teacher; they can't possibly have that much athletic merit.
Considering they're closing in on me, they apparently can.
I will not let this happen.
With everything I have, I manage to speed up by a hair. It's not much, but it's enough that when I reach, my fingertips brush the tips of Llamasley's coat. If I go for it, I think I could grab him. After a deep breath, I force my momentum forward and launch myself into the air like the world's most pathetic linebacker in all of NFL history in an attempt to tackle a llama that's three times my weight.
