Page 70 of Charlie Takes a Chance

Sitting on the counter is not one, not two, but three full pans of cinnamon rolls covered in frosting. “Grandma. How long have you been baking?”

“It takes the same amount of time to make three pans as one,” she says with a shrug. “We’ll leave a pan here for Max. That boy is a little too lean, anyway. He needs some meat on his bones.”

I turn to give her a look. “This coming from you?” Grandma is a lean, mean machine.

She waves a hand through the air. “Oh, pshhh. Come on.”

We each pick up a pan and go outside to walk the now-familiar path to the lodge. I unlock the door, and we walk inside the front door and hurry to the huge kitchen. “Three ovens? Can you imagine how many cookies you could bake with three ovens?” Grandma stares at the kitchen with almost reverence.

Apparently, she’d been a little distracted when we were cleaning yesterday and didn’t notice the monstrous kitchen.

“Maybe they need a personal chef,” Grandma says with a wink. “I could learn to make fancy-people food.”

I throw back my head and laugh. “I can just see you dishing up caviar.”

She grimaces and sets the pans on the counter. “Do you think they’ll think it’s strange I brought these cinnamon rolls?”

Leave it to Grandma. She’s not fazed by the six thousand square foot log cabin. Or the countless acres that go with the ranch. But throw three ovens in the mix, and suddenly, these people are out of her league.

“Grandma, these are nice, normal people.”

She raises one suspicious brow at that.

“And I’m sure they’ll love your cinnamon rolls.”

“Of course we will!” a booming voice greets us.

I turn around to see Alexander Whitlock walking down the hall, followed by Max.

Max looks so good this morning. The scruff accentuates his flushed cheeks, showing he’s been out in the cold for a while.

I glance at Alexander, who has pink cheeks and bright eyes. Apparently, Max had some help this morning. We greet each other, and I introduce Charlene to Alexander.

A door slams, and some voices yell out. “Why’d you leave so early, Grandpa?” Nash calls.

Alexander yells back, “I was growing old waiting for you two kids to get up!”

Nash Whitlock walks around the corner, holding Magnolia’s hand. Nash has light-brown hair, about the same color as mine, and is clean-shaven. He’s wearing jeans and a collared shirt.

Magnolia is wearing a cute bright-red sweater with her blonde hair curled and falling down around her shoulders. She has matching high-heeled red boot shoes. That girl’s shoe collection is something to envy. And she’s also so much tougher than me. I borrowed a pair of high heels from her for a date once. I lost all feeling in my feet for a week afterward. I asked her how she handled it, and she said the shoes are so cute you don’t even think about how uncomfortable they are. I told her that I did, indeed, think about the pain and promised never to borrow shoes from her again.

Magnolia lets go of Nash’s hand and hurries over to hug me. “I missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too!”

We pull apart, and she greets Max with a hug then spots my grandma standing by the ovens. “Charlene! I didn’t know you would be here so soon!” Magnolia hurries over to my grandma, bending down to give her a big hug. Grandma loves Magnoliaand couldn’t stop talking about what a ‘sweet girl’ she was after the last time I took her to visit.

And Nash—I turn to look at him as he shakes Max’s hand—Nash is everything that’s good for Magnolia. A protective, supportive force to be reckoned with. Magnolia is tough enough to handle her own issues, but Nash has made it clear that she shouldn’t have to when he’ll gladly stick up for her.

“How’d you let this place get trashed so bad?” Nash asks with a laugh as he slaps Max on the back.

“You should probably think about getting new relatives,” Max answers dryly.

Nash shakes his head. “Oh, believe me. That’s at the top of my list. Trust me. In fact, I was thinking about taking Magnolia’s last name when we get married.”

“Hey, now!” Alexander Whitlock looks horrified. He’s from an old enough generation that something like that is unheard of to him.

“How did all of the renovations go?” Nash asks, changing the subject.

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