3. Charlie
CHAPTER 3
Charlie
No water. No heat.
The lodge is in worse shape than Nash told me. At least I found a closet full of blankets and one room that didn’t look too dusty. I figured I’d get some sleep and tackle all the issues in the morning. But then I spent the most restless night, tossing and turning and freezing my butt off.
I wake again at 4 a.m. and text Magnolia.
Charlie: I’m regretting all my life choices that led me to this moment. You said I’d have somewhere to stay! I’m frozen solid, and I think I’ve lost three toes.
Miracles truly do happen, because Magnolia wakes up and texts me back. And the reason I know she has just woken up is her usual precise self has about a hundred typos in the short text.
Magnolia: Aer you in the bgi house??? Go stayy in the bunkhouse behin the big house. I gav you the numberr.
Well, that would explain why there wasn’t a keypad on the door. The keypad must be for the bunkhouse, and the spare key must be for the main house.
Say no more. I jump out of bed, grab my bag, and slip on my work boots.
Here I come, bunkhouse. You’d better have a working toilet.
I turn on my phone light—at least I was able to charge that—and walk outside to the back of the lodge. There’s a cobblestone path that leads to the backyard and then a lined gravel path that stretches out into the dark.
There, a short distance away, is a cozy two-story house with a porch light on. Some bunkhouse. It looks so welcoming and quaint.
I sprint across the dark yard and leap onto the porch. Opening my text messages, I find the text with the key code number in it and enter it into the keypad. It unlocks with a happy little beep. I slip inside and lock the door again.
It’s warm in here.
It feels like heaven after nearly freezing to death. Before I even bother turning the lights on, I sprint to the door next to the staircase. The porch light lets in enough light through the big bay window to let me see where I’m going. I get lucky on my first try and find the bathroom through that door. Hallelujah.
After taking care of business and washing my hands for far too long in the warm water, I walk back out into the living room. It’s dark and warm, and I’m tired. There’s a fire glowing in the wood stove, and I wonder if that cranky ranch manager built it for me before he went home.
I stretch out on the couch. It’s a soft fabric with a crocheted blanket thrown over the back. The perfect spot. It’s almost time to get up for the day anyway. I’ll just close my eyes for a quick minute and get warmed up.
I’m not exactly sure how long I’m asleep because it feels like I barely closed my eyes, but I’m woken up rudely by a deep voice.
“Are you trying to smother my dog?”
My eyelids feel like lead, and it’s as though there’s something heavy covering my whole body. Maybe I’m sick. Or still under that mountain of blankets. I pry my eyes open and come face to face with a nose—a wet nose—and a long tongue that sneaks out for a quick taste of my face.
There is a tri-colored dog lying on top of me, and I have my arms wrapped around it.
He even looks like he’s smiling at me.
“Jim, get off of her,” that grouchy voice says again.
I blink a few more times and stare at the dimly lit hallway. Oh, that’s right. I’m in the bunkhouse behind the main house. And there’s a dog on top of me.
And a shirtless man standing at the edge of the living room with his hands on his hips, glaring down at me.
Max St. James. We have to stop meeting this way. How does he keep surprising me? And why is he in this house?
“Don’t you have something better to do with your life than terrorize me? You could have given me a heart attack,” I grumble as I scratch behind the dog’s ears.
The dog licks my face again.
“Jim,” Max growls at the dog.
I peer around the long-haired creature on top of me to get a better view of Max. “Are you mad that your dog likes me?”
“If you knew what Jim likes to eat, you wouldn’t want him licking your face either,” he explains in a dry voice.
I jerk my head back and study the dog on top of me. It could be the trick of dim light, but it looks like the dog just smiled bigger.
I dodge the next attempted lick and sit up. Jim climbs off me and sits on the floor next to my feet, his tail thumping loudly against the hardwood.
“What—” I clear my throat. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here. Now get your butt out.” A second dog comes trotting from upstairs. It looks almost identical to Jim but a bit younger. It sits down next to Max and stares at me curiously.
There’s something that doesn’t seem right. Magnolia told me there was a bunkhouse behind the main lodge. Hopefully, I didn’t walk into the wrong one, because it sure seems like Max and his dogs spent the night here too. “How many bunkhouses are behind the main house?”
He looks confused by this question. “This is the only other house.”
That doesn’t make sense. That means I’m where I’m supposed to be but why is he here? “Well, then, what are you doing here? And why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”
“I’m wearing pants,” he replies.
I stare at his sweatpants that are hanging low on his hips. ‘Wearing’ them might be a loose term. They appear to be barely hanging on. And I can’t tell if it’s the shadows playing tricks on my eyes, but it sure looks like I can count his ab muscles.
I sit up slowly and press a hand against my face—anything to stop ogling the man in front of me. “This is where I’m supposed to stay.”
“Ha!” He stomps past the couch and flips a light on that’s brighter than the sun. “I don’t think so. You stay in the main house. This is my house.”
“It can’t be. Magnolia said there was a bunkhouse back here for me to stay in.”
“Nope.” He’s standing in the kitchen, staring at a coffee pot that’s spitting out delicious-smelling coffee.
I stand up and shuffle after him into the kitchen. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but it’s okay to give more than one-word answers. This can’t be your house. Magnolia didn’t say anything about it.”
Max grabs a mug out of the cupboard and pours a full cup of coffee.
I gasp when he takes a sip of steaming black coffee. “No wonder you’re so cranky. You need some sugar in that cup.”
His eyes darken. “Get out of my house.”
“I’ll text Magnolia. Do you live here? Why would she say this is the bunkhouse I should stay in?”
“She probably didn’t realize I’m living here,” he replies and takes another sip of coffee while maintaining eye contact with me.
Jim walks over to sit on my feet and leans against my legs. He smiles up at me. “Wait, you said you’re staying here, not that you live here.”
Max shakes his head. “It’s winter. I’m feeding cattle every day on this side of the ranch, and I have a few late calvers in the front pasture. Of course I’m staying here.”
“But that doesn’t mean it’s your house,” I push, despite the grumpy look on his face.
He leans forward and plants a hand on the counter. When he leans forward like that, it makes his chest muscles flex, and I truly wish he were wearing a shirt, because it’s distracting—especially when we’re arguing about housing arrangements.
“You’re going to be out of this house when I get back from work today. You got it? You’ve got the whole lodge to sleep in. You don’t need my bunkhouse too.”
“There’s no heat or water in the big house.”
The firm look on his face slowly dissolves into a smirk. “Hmm, it’s almost like I said there was a lot to do…”
That’s it. All bets are off. If it seemed like too big of a job at 2 a.m. this morning, well, now it’s not. I’m staying here until I restore that lodge to its perfect state.
“I guess you’ll just have to get used to sharing the bunkhouse with me,” I say with a sweet smile.
The smirk falls from his face. “If I come back and find you here, I’m throwing you out. Because this is my house.”
I have a feeling that he means it in a very literal sense. Game on . I don’t have to hold myself back with him . Nope. He’s going to get the full force of Charlie.
I grin up at him. “Well, I’m here to stay. And don’t worry, I’ll call Magnolia and clear up this whole thing.”
He frowns at me. “This isn’t even up for debate. I’m staying here. You can’t stay here too.”
“How interesting. I guess we’ll see about that. Who knows, maybe you’ll find somewhere else to stay while I’m here. I’ll only be here for a few weeks.” I reach out and pat the back of his hand in the most condescending manner I can muster. “Even you should be able to handle that.”
Max clenches his jaw, and his left eye twitches.
He brings his hand up to point at me. “You better be out of here by the time I get back here.”
I make a face at him, and that eye twitch gets a little more obvious. This know-it-all. Thinking I couldn’t handle something little like broken pipes and no heat. He hasn’t ever dealt with me before.
He’ll learn. And then he’ll eat his words.
I keep my eyes on him as he stalks past me and down the hall. Both dogs sit next to me until he turns around to glare at them. They hurry after him in a guilty shuffle.
“See you tonight!” I call after him as he walks away.
His back jerks ramrod straight, but he continues on his way, not gracing me with an answer. That’s okay. Time will show him that I mean what I say.