Page 18 of Charlie Takes a Chance

“Call me back to let me know it’s not a murderer!” she calls out as I hit end.

I watch through the narrow slats in the stall wall as the man door cracks open, and Max steps inside. He walks over to the hose and water trough, Larry trotting after him. “You knocked the float loose again,” he says to the cows.

I hold my breath as he shrugs out of his coat and rolls up his sleeve to reach into the bottom of the tank to retrieve the float valve.

“And you broke the hose. You only do this when I go into town. It’s not like I’m deserting you for good.”

A hundred guilty cow faces look back at him as they continue munching on their hay.

Max disappears into the far corner of the barn and comes back carrying another hose.

I should probably announce my presence—let him know that I’m here or something like that.

His back is to me as he unwinds the hose and sets about replacing the old one.

I climb over the stall wall and jump to the ground. The straw softens my landing, and it’s fairly quiet.

I make my way toward him, stomping loudly and waiting for him to turn around. Except he doesn’t hear me until I’m standing right behind him.

“Need help?”

He moves so fast. One minute, I’m staring at his butt, and the next, his fist is flying toward me. I watch with wide eyes as he panics and averts the punch. He doesn’t even touch me.

“Charlie!” he yells. He slaps his leg and shakes his head. “I almost hit you.”

He grabs my arm and tugs me into a hug. That is not the response I was expecting. He pats my back awkwardly. “I’m so sorry. I would never hit you. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Well, I’ve been tempted to throw a punch at you for a while now,” I say into his shirt that he’s pressing my face against.

His laugh rumbles in his chest, and he releases me. It’s the first non-sarcastic laugh I’ve heard from him, and it’s nice. “What are you doing out here?”

I point to the calf stall sheepishly.

He nods. “It’s a ripper, isn’t it?”

“What happened to the mom?”

“She had twins but didn’t have enough milk for both.”

My eyes widen at that. “That’s big for twins!”

He nods. “She had twins last year too. They were smaller, though, and did fine with her.”

He turns around to finish hooking up the water. One of the cows leans over the feed bunk and nudges Max’s shoulder. He glances up and scratches her forehead. I look up and down the barn aisles, seeing that there are at least a hundred cows eating the alfalfa from the bunks, and yet this one still knows him well enough to come get a forehead scratch.

My phone rings, and I realize I forgot to tell Magnolia that I haven’t been murdered.

I quickly answer it, not bothering to look at the screen. It’s a little too late before I realize she’s video-calling me back.

“I’m fine,” I try to whisper.

“Who was it?” she practically yells.

“Max,” I try to answer quietly as if he can’t hear everything we’re saying. I hurry toward the horse stall at the far end of the barn.

“Show him!” She’s definitely yelling at this point.

“Max probably doesn’t want to FaceTime with you,” I try to tell her. I yelp in surprise when Max steps in close behind me, and his face hovers above my shoulder.

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