Page 28 of Charlie Takes a Chance

“Is he always like that?”

“Never.” I leave some cash on the counter and scoop up the precious groceries. I shouldn’t have to come back into town until next week. I’ve still got milk and eggs in the fridge. I’ll be good for the next ten days now that I’ve got the medicine from Darlene.

Charlie shakes her head. “He seems nice but maybe a little over eager?”

“Henry is perpetually single. You should probably watch yourself. His mom is determined to get him married.”

Charlie glares at me. “He’s twenty years older than me.”

I grin. “Age is just a number.”

Charlie reaches out and flicks my arm right as Henry reappears.

“I put them in the back of the truck for you.” His cheeks are red, and he’s breathing heavily as he wipes his boots on the rug, grabbing the shelf holding the display of glass pop bottles.

“Henry!” I snap and point at the shelf. That shelf is notoriously wobbly. Henry yells at anyone who touches it. Don’t ask me why he doesn’t just move the glass bottles somewhere else.

Henry glances back at the shelf. “Oh! It’s fine! Charlie fixed it when she came in the other day. Look at this! Sturdier than ever.” He gives the shelf a push, and it doesn’t budge. “She didn’t even let me pay her for it.”

I turn to look at Charlie, who’s busy buttoning her coat up to her chin and ignoring me. No wonder Henry is bending overbackward. She won him over with free labor. “I left some money on the counter for you. We’ll catch you later, Henry.”

I head out the door, hoping Charlie is coming too and not pausing to re-floor the whole store.

I don’t know how it makes me feel that she’s doing nice things for people. It’s…uncomfortable. I need to find her annoying. It’s the only way I’ll make it through this month.

CHAPTER 11

Charlie

The rideback from town is fairly peaceful. Max doesn’t say anything snarky. He simply stops at the café, buys more soup, comes back to the truck, and we drive back to the ranch with the radio playing Christmas music in the background.

It’s better than bickering the whole way.

When we get back to the ranch, Max parks the truck in front of the lodge.

He climbs out and walks toward the barn, whistling for the dogs.

I guess there’s no need for conversation. “Thank you!” I yell after him. He keeps walking.

I button my jacket up then focus on moving my lumber into the house. I hate to admit it, but I was delusional thinking I could haul it on top of my Honda—at least in one trip. I could have easily gotten it in three.

As I’m grabbing the last two boards out of the back of the truck, I pause when I hear an engine rumble. I turn to watch as a truck appears at the top of the last hill. The tires crunch the gravel and snow as they roll to a stop a little ways away. It’s aflatbed pickup with a round hay bale sitting on the back and a brush guard big enough for moose on the front.

Two men climb out and give me simultaneous nods.

The younger one was driving, and an almost identical gentleman that is twenty years his senior closes the passenger door. A dog jumps out of the cab and runs over to greet me.

It’s a short-hair border collie that looks like it couldn’t be still if it wanted to. Its whole body is wagging as I reach down to pet him.

“Watch out—” one of the men says just as the dog pees right next to my boot.

“Get in the truck, Bear,” the older gentleman tells the dog. The dog does the guilty shuffle back to the truck and takes a flying leap, making it all the way through the open window without even touching the side of the truck.Impressive.

“I’m sorry about that,” the younger man says. “He’s a little excitable.”

“That’s fine. At least he’s friendly.”

“A little too friendly,” the older man says with a chuckle. “I’m Billy Madden. This is my son, Zane.”

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