Page 73 of Charlie Takes a Chance

Charlie, I want you to know I’m serious about us—so serious that I’m going to come see you and have a face-to-face talk. I can’t wait to see you.

Sure, now I have a boyfriend who decides to commit—when he’s acting crazy and weird. Good grief. I told him it was time to move on. Oh well. I won’t be going home for a while, so he’ll probably forget about me by that time.

It’s New Year Eve, and Darlene has informed me—we’re texting buddies now—that Max and I had better be at the New Year’s Eve party in town. There’s a disco ball.

Max and I haven’t been into town together since becoming an official couple, so that will make tonight interesting.

I’ve gotten a lot of backhanded questions when I run into town for groceries or supplies. Everyone wants to know what happened after the mistletoe kiss. And I guess the fact that I haven’t run for the hills screaming means that something is going on.

They’re not wrong. But I think it’s fun keeping people guessing.

I finish putting on the last of my makeup as my phone chimes, and I glance down at it.

Magnolia: For the record, I think it’s so cute that you and Max are together. I think he’s such a good guy.

Magnolia: Oh, and I totally called it.

That stinker. I set my blending sponge down on the counter so I can respond with both hands.

Charlie: Don’t get your hopes up. We’re fast approaching the time when most of my boyfriends abandon ship. He’s known me for six weeks now.

Magnolia: Stop being such a pessimist. You’ve just dated horrible people.

I pick up my sponge again—it’s wet. Dang it. Why do I always set it down in a puddle, and now I’ll have to wash it?

There’s a heavy knock on the bathroom door. “Gonna give a guy a chance to wash the cow crap out of his hair?”

I unlock the bathroom door and swing it open.

Max is standing there with a bemused look on his face—and that’s not all. He sure does have cow poo in his hair, but he also has it on his face, his chest, and all down his left side.

“I’m afraid to ask,” I say as I step out of the bathroom, careful to avoid getting too close to him.

“What? You mean I don’t get a hello kiss?” He takes a step toward me threateningly.

“Touch me, and you won’t live to regret it,” I fire back.

He laughs and heads into the bathroom as he explains, “A cow had a stuck calf, so I had to put her in the squeeze chute and help pull it. Everybody’s fine and healthy, but this was her parting gift for me.”

“It’s good to remember the people who help you,” I say in agreement as I lean against the door frame.

Max slips out of his shirt, using it to clean some of the green off his face.

His arm muscles bunch with each little movement. And those abs are nothing short of distracting.

“It could have gone a lot worse. I’ll take a little crap if it means everything turns out well.” He glances up and winks at me, catching me mid-ogle.

“Hey, why do I feel like you’re talking about me?”

He shrugs those shoulders, flexing his pecs at the same time. “Because I am?”

“You—” I take a threatening step toward him, but he holds up a green hand in warning.

I wisely step out of the bathroom and slam the door on his laughter.

An hour and a half later and we’re parked outside the Willow. We’re a little late to the start of the party because it took Max a long time of sudsing up to get rid of the smell.

“Are we really doing this?” Max asks me. “Are you sure about this? Because once we go in there together, everyone is going to know and be asking you a million questions.”

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