Page 4 of Charlie Takes a Chance

“Hmm, how interesting.”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “Call Nash and tell him he underestimated the job. The place is a mess in there.”

He spins on his heel and walks away into the darkness.

What does he do, sleep with the cows? I sigh and stomp toward my car. What he doesn’t know is I’m never one to back away from a challenge. I just need my sweatpants first.

Mr. Grumpy Ranch Manager can go take a hike and feed his cows, because I’m here to stay.

I grab my duffel bag out of the car, along with my phone, and walk inside the house.

How bad could it be?

Turns out, pretty bad. By the next morning, I realize the heat pump is out, and there’s no running water. The house has been completely trashed, and I’m a one-woman crew.

I’ll never admit it, but the ranch manager might have been right. This is a big job.

But at this point, anything is better than going home to my lonely existence. A boyfriend who breaks up with you before the holidays because you’re ‘not the girl someone brings home to the parents’ makes a trashed mansion seem not so bad.

CHAPTER 2

Max

There isan attractive woman on the property.

And apparently, my boss, or business partner now—and good friend—asked her to be here. What were they thinking? The main house needs more than just a quick dusting and Christmas decorating. There are entire pipes that need to be replaced, a roof that needs to be patched, and a bathroom that needs to be refloored.

Squatters—actually, errant family members—moved into the lodge, and it took the sheriff a solid three weeks to get them out. I don’t come down to this part of the ranch in the summertime, so I don’t look at the lodge until I’m living here in the winter months and feeding cattle out of the barns.

When I called Nash and told him about the disrepair of the house, he told me I didn’t need to worry about it; he had someone he’d send.

I didn’t expect him to send someone wearing shorts in 25-degree weather. Nash probably assumed the house needed to be cleaned—possibly redecorated. But he’s way wrong.

When I get back to the bunkhouse, I have the urge to turn around and check on her. It feels like the right thing to do. Butshe seemed more likely to want to punch me than let me show her around the house.

I grin at that as I step through the front door. She’ll turn on those lights and see how bad it is. She’ll be peeling out of the driveway at first morning light.

With that happy thought, I kick my shoes off and shut the door.

The house is warm, the wood stove blazing. Larry and Jim are lying by the fire. Jim doesn’t stir, but Larry lifts his head and greets me with a tail wag. Both of them are my Australian Shepherd cattle dogs. From the way Jim isn’t looking at me, I can tell his feelings are still hurt. That dog can hold a grudge. But when I told him to get ahead of the cattle today, he ran back and sat by the water trough. The cattle were getting away, and I was left trying to run ahead of them. It was supposed to be an easy job that didn’t require a horse or a four-wheeler, but it turned into an extra two hours of getting the cattle back in the corrals.

So, for tonight, Jim and I aren’t speaking. It probably contributed to my mood when I found Charlie in the house.

The bunkhouse on this section of the ranch is a two-bed, one-bath, stick-built home with a cozy living room, a nice kitchen, and a loft. I spend half the year here in this house when I’m feeding cattle for the winter and then the other half in the bunkhouse by the spring and summer pastures during calving season. Technically, both sections of the ranch have a Pine Ridge address but they’re on opposite sides of town.

My job is taking care of cattle. Often, people hear the wordsranch managerand assume I’m a groundskeeper. No. That’s only if you’re taking care of a dude ranch. That’s something that the Whitlock family has going for them. Their ranch is an actual cattle ranch that just happens to have a nice big house on it that they like to come stay in occasionally.

What started as a ranch manager position eventually worked its way into me becoming a half-owner. Now I have an even bigger vested interest in this place. But I still don’t want anything to do with the lodge.

I walk to the kitchen and find my phone where I left it charging when I heard Charlie’s car pull up. I unplug it and make a phone call.

Nash Whitlock answers, “Hello?”

“There’s a woman here.” I’m not in the mood to chat—not after thinking I was going to have another run around with a squatter.

“Oh good! Did you meet Charlie yet?” He sounds way too chipper for having sent me a surprise visitor.

“She said she was here to fix up the house.”

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