Page 30 of Charlie Takes a Chance

Max’s grin falls, and he snatches the business card from my hand. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I don’t know. None of my other relationships have worked out. Maybe it’s time to give an arranged marriage a try. His dog liked me.”

“My dogs like you,” Max snaps back.

“Are you suggesting I marry you, then?”

Max sputters, unable to formulate an answer. I snatch the business card back and tuck it into my jacket pocket. Turning around, I grab the last couple boards from the back of the truck. “I didn’t think so. You can calm yourself down, St. James. I’m not here to trap you in a relationship. I’m just here to rebuild a bathroom.”

Max sighs. “You’re deeply annoying; I hope you know that.”

“I do,” I call back as I carry the wood to the front of the house.

“I’m going to the bunkhouse and putting the soup on if you want some,” Max calls after me. Soup is our olive branch now.

“Sounds great! I’ll be over in a little bit.”

When I get back to the bunkhouse, there’s soup warming on the stove, and Max is in the living room building a fire. It strikes me as an oddly domestic scene as I kick off my work boots and set them on the boot tray.

“Dinner should be ready,” Max calls as he crumples up some more newspaper for the fire.

“Thanks.” I wash my hands in the kitchen sink then grab a bowl and a spoon. I sneak a quick taste after I fill my bowl.

My cheeks tighten as I swallow the first bite.

“There’s something not right with this soup. Are you sure this isn’t your leftover soup?” I take another bite to see if I imagined the first rancid taste…but nope. It’s bad. There’s something sour and strange in this soup—like maybe the vegetables decided to start their own line of kombucha.

“Yes, I’m sure. I put the new jar in the pot,” Max says as he strolls into the kitchen and holds out his hand for my spoon. I pass it to him and watch as he takes a bite from my bowl.

“I think something is very wrong with it. Can you taste that?”

He takes another bite. “Taste what?”

“It’s sour! Don’t eat any more. You might get food poisoning.”

He looks at me and slowly dips the spoon into the bowl again.

He takes another big bite. I’m almost certain I see him twitch, but I can’t be sure.

“You’re not eating that just to spite me, are you?” I ask him as I plant my hands on my hips.

The edges of his eyes crinkle as he takes another bite. “No, of course not. I like their soup.”

“You’re going to be ill.”

“If you don’t want it, I’ll eat it.” He grabs the whole pot and walks into the living room like a dragon hoarding his treasure. So much for the soup olive branch. It’s not my fault if he decides to be stubborn and give himself food poisoning.

I settle on a bowl of cereal for dinner and take it upstairs to eat. I need some distance from him. I’m having too much Max in my life. I need a minute to breathe without thinking about him.

CHAPTER 12

Max

Charlie was right.I never should have eaten the soup. I made poor choices, and here I am, paying the price. I don’t want to get out of bed.

Because if I sit up, I’m going to puke.

I glance at the clock. It’s 5:30 a.m. Hopefully, if I run to the bathroom and get sick, Charlie will sleep through it, and I won’t have to live with the embarrassment of getting food poisoning.

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