Page 10 of Charlie Takes a Chance

I scoop her off her feet and tip her over my shoulder. Her elbows are weapons of mass destruction, and she even manages to get a few solid hits with those knees before she’s upside down.

“You’re not getting me out of this house, you absolute wretch!”

“Now you’re hurting my feelings,” I tease. “Ouch! Stop pinching.”

“Stop carrying me everywhere,” she growls.

As she tries to knee my abs, Jim bumps against my leg, barking happily. I’m feeling pretty good right now too. Charlie is not going to worm her way into our peaceful world. She’s already upsetting the balance and hasn’t even been here for twenty-four hours yet.

My phone starts ringing.

“You should probably answer that! You can set me down and take the phone call.” Charlie tries to roll off my shoulder, and she’s lucky we’re so close to the couch, because it ends with me trying to get her there before she crashes on the floor. We end up in a heap on the couch, my phone still ringing loudly and both dogs barking.

I wrap my arms around her, wondering how I’m going to keep her here—where she can’t barricade herself in a room—while I answer the phone. A hand appears in front of my face, holding my phone. It’s Nash calling.

Charlie gives me a smug little smile as she wiggles the phone back and forth in her hand. “Why don’t you answer it?”

I glare at her and snatch the phone from her hand. I didn’t even notice her pull it from my pocket. We’re on the couch in atangle of limbs, though, so it wouldn’t have been that hard to do. “Be quiet.” I’m not sure if I’m talking to her or the dogs.

“Hello?”

“Hey, you’re not going to like this call,” Nash says by way of greeting.

I glance down at a laughing Charlie, who has decided to make herself comfortable in my arms. She wiggles until she’s half-leaning against my chest. If someone were to walk in right now, it would look like we’re enjoying a nice evening snuggling on the couch.

“I already don’t.” Whatever Nash has to say isn’t going to go in my favor.

“Tell him—” I press a hand against Charlie’s mouth as she tries to yell something at Nash.

“What was that?” Nash asks.

“Oh, just the dogs barking.” I flinch when she bites my hand. I pull it away and check for blood.

She smiles sweetly up at me, like she didn’t just try to maim me.

“I’m sorry. I know you like your own space, but Grandpa really wants to come spend Christmas and New Year’s there, and Charlie said she could make that happen.”

I stare down at the menace in my arms. Share a house with her for over a month? Her smile only grows at the look of horror on my face. This is not how I saw my holidays going. I was going to have a peaceful end of November. I was going to enjoy my time feeding cows in December and the solitude that afforded me.

Now I’m going to be stuck babysitting. Besides, it’s not like she’s done anything besides sit in the house all day.

“Nash, I think you should make backup Christmas plans. I doubt she’ll get it done in time.”

Charlie sticks her tongue out at me.

When I have an almost irresistible urge to push it back in, I realize we’re doing an awful lot of touching for two strangers who just met last night. And I have the uncomfortable realization that I like it.

I release her and jump up from the couch, putting as much distance between us as I can in the living room.

“I hope she’ll be able to do it,” Nash replies. “I know I haven’t seen the damage myself, but Grandpa is really looking forward to Christmas and New Year’s there.”

Unfortunately, I know I can’t tell him no. Not when it comes to Nash’s grandpa. The guy who started this ranch. The one who almost died from some health complications earlier this year. Yup. It’s not exactly like I can say no to the man who escaped death and just wants a nice Christmas and New Year.

I sigh—or maybe moan. At this point, it’s the same thing. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll make sure she’s housed and can get to work on the lodge.”

I meet Charlie’s eyes when I turn around. She’s sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her, and Larry and Jim are sitting on either side of her.

“No dogs on the couch.”

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