Page 41 of Charlie Takes a Chance

“Wait, why would I drive to Pine Ridge? That’s almost two hours from here.”

“Yes, it is, but you just told me you weren’t incapable. I’m in Pine Ridge for Christmas, and you can come stay with me, and we’ll do Christmas together. It’ll be you and me and Max. Plus the dogs.”

“Now, who is Max?” It’s only the lead-off inquiry before Grandma fires off fifty questions in a row. “How old is he? Areyou dating? Is he capable? Most importantly, what does he look like?”

It takes another five minutes to finally wring a promise out of her that she’ll come to spend Christmas with me.

“I’m expecting answers when I get there,” she threatens.

“And I’ll definitely give them to you. Love you, grandma.” It won’t be what she’s hoping, but I’ll definitely explain that Max is the ranch manager.

“I love you too. And I know what you’re doing trying to get me out there for Christmas.”

“Is it working?”

Grandma chuckles. “Yes. You’ve sufficiently made me curious enough to come to celebrate Christmas with you and the mystery man.”

“Perfect.” I laugh as we say our goodbyes, and I hang up the phone. She might be coming with that false hope that we’re dating, but if it means she’ll come, I don’t mind being a little sneaky.

I glance at the clock. It’s eight o’clock. Safe enough to call Hubert and plan on getting a Christmas tree.

I type the phone number in and hit send.

“Hello?”

I did not just call Hubert.

Max had lefthisphone number on that paper.

“Oh, hello,” I finally manage.

“Don’t tell me you miss me already?” He chuckles, that deep voice coming through the phone and rumbling through my body.

I can hear the hum of an engine in the background, so I know he must still be driving.

“Thanks for the note,” I say slowly. “But I thought you’d left Hubert’s number for me.”

Max clears his throat. “I’ll text his number to you. I’d left my number in case of an emergency.”

There’s a beat of silence while I stare at the fridge.

“Max St. James,” I drawl. “Are you worried about me?”

“No,” he sputters, and I simply hum as I pull out the yogurt container. “Okay, fine. Yes. Maybe. Don’t make this a big deal,” he mumbles.

“You’re so sweet! I can’t believe this. You’re worried about me.”

“I thought you’d be offended at something like that,” he admits.

“Nah, I like getting fussed over. I’m just shocked you care.”

“I am not fussing over you.”

“No, of course not. You were only worried because the plumbers are coming today…” I abandon the yogurt when I remember I haven’t had coffee yet.

“What? You didn’t say anything about that last night?” he exclaims.

“You didn’t ask.” I grab a mug from the cupboard and pour myself some still-warm coffee.

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