8. Max
CHAPTER 8
Max
The next morning we have our first solid dusting of snow. Actually, it’s a good couple of inches of snow. When I finish a full morning of work, I hurry back to the bunkhouse, intent on warming up in front of the wood stove.
When I poke my head inside, Charlie isn’t in the house. Perfect . I step inside, smiling at the wood stove. I bend down to unlace my boots but then remember my promise to Nash. I haven’t actually seen Charlie at all today, so I can’t text him proof of life yet.
I stare longingly at the still-warm wood stove… I’ll be back little buddy.
With a grunt, I retie my boots and make my way toward the lodge. I’ll check on her for the second day in a row and report back to Nash. I feel like a stalker at this point.
Although, her sneaking up on me in the barn was rather stalkerish too. I am so glad I caught myself before I’d landed the punch. She’d startled me so much I just reacted, not thinking about who would be in the barn with me.
When I round the corner, I find Charlie is standing next to her car in the driveway with her hand resting on the roof. Her fingers are tapping, and she looks deep in thought. “What is that?”
She glances over her shoulder at me then turns back to the car. “You mean this trusty Honda?” She pats the roof of the vehicle.
“You’re not planning on driving that into town, are you?” I point at the extra five inches of snow we got last night.
She plants her hands on her hips and glares at me. “I thought I would take my unicycle. Of course I was going to take this into town.”
Pine Ridge isn’t far, but there are a few steep hills between here and there that are notorious for dumping tourists in the ditch whenever it snows or is icy. It’s a hill that requires four-wheel drive with this much snow, and she doesn’t have that.
I have an order of medicine to pick up in town anyway. It’s not like I’m going out of my way if she rides with me. It’s not as if I’m being extra nice. I’m just going to make sure she’s alive at the end of her stay. Nothing more.
“Get in the truck.”
“Pardon you?” she says as she turns to face me, planting her fists on her hips. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.” I’m not going to beg. Good grief. Who does she think I am?
“I’m not getting in your truck—again, that is.” She blushes, and I recall how quietly she told me she was scared of the dark. I had my suspicions when I realized how long she must have stayed in the barn. And I might not be a nice guy, but I’m not going to give someone a hard time for that.
“If I get in your truck, you’d drive me all the way down to the Panama Canal and leave me there for Christmas.” She glances down at the snow. “Although, that does sound warmer…so let me think about it just for a minute.”
This woman.
She pretends to think about it, tapping a finger on her chin.
“Nope, sorry. I can’t accept your one-way ticket out of town.”
I kick the snow back and forth, digging a little trench down to the gravel. “I’ll bring you back. Your car wouldn’t make it into town.”
“You think that because it’s older, it can’t carry me from place to place?”
“I’m saying you need four-wheel drive for these hills and the snow. I’m going into town anyway.”
Her mouth forms an O as she stares at me.
“Are—wait, are you being nice?” She presses a hand against her chest in a shocked pose.
“No!” I bark out. “Absolutely not.”
Charlie looks relieved. “Okay, well, as long as it’s not something weird like that, then I guess I’ll take you up on it. I’m assuming we’re taking the pickup you were driving last night?”
I nod and turn to go around the backside of the lodge again.
“Are your pants tucked into your cowboy boots?” Charlie asks as she trails behind.
“Yup. Got a problem with that?”
“I have so very many problems, and that isn’t one of them. It’s simply an observation on your strange style choices,” she calls after me.
“It keeps my pants dry, okay? I don’t like the snow making my jeans cold.”
Charlie lets out a loud laugh. “I didn’t know you were a winter princess.”
“Very funny. I only need a few things in town—lunch being one of them. What are you picking up?” I ask as I keep marching toward the truck.
“Some two-by-fours.”
I stop abruptly. “Did you say you’re picking up lumber?”
Charlie hurries to catch up with me, her work boots crunching on the snow. I stare at them. They’re clean, though that could be from tromping through the snow, but they’re scuffed. Like they’re actual work boots and not a fashion piece. In fact, I think I have that exact brand. I wear them in the summer months.
Maybe they’re scuffed because she likes to hike. Or maybe they’re scuffed because she actually works in them. Whatever the reason, I need to stop thinking about Charlie’s footwear. It’s starting to be a problem.
“You mean to tell me you were going to haul lumber back with that car of yours?”
“Of course,” she answers with a shrug as she walks past me. “I’ve done it before.”
I’m left standing in the snow, watching her march in the direction of the pickup, leaving me behind to gawk. And I can’t help but chuckle. Of course she hauled lumber on her car. I shake my head and march after her.
Usually, I’d offer to help someone into the truck, but not Charlie. That seems like a sure way to get injured.
“Did you sleep okay last night?” she asks as she buckles her seatbelt, checking it to make sure it latches completely.
“Yup. Like a baby.”
“Hmm, just curious. You have some dark circles here.” She points to under her eyes.
I start the still-warm truck and shoot her a glance. “I’ve had some recent stress enter my life.”
Charlie runs a hand through her hair. “How interesting. I’ve been experiencing the same thing.” She gives me a sharp look, but I see the twinkle in her eyes.
I back the truck up and drive up the small hill that goes between the two houses.
“Since you’re not being nice to me and only driving to town to get lumber, what exactly are you doing?”
“Believe it or not, I actually leave the ranch occasionally. I like to talk to at least three people a month. It keeps me normal.”
“So many? I think you might be overdoing it. You went to dinner last night and into town today. You’ve probably met your quota.” She grins. “Besides, I think the normal boat has passed you by.”
I clench the wheel and keep my eyes on the driveway. The snow is falling slowly but steadily. We might be in for some white holidays.
By the time we get to the big hill on the highway, I’m not sure if I’ll burst out screaming or laughing from Charlie’s ongoing snarky commentary on her very capable Honda.
“My car could have totally made this hill. There’s hardly any snow!” She points to the barely white road that my truck is climbing.
“Well, look at it this way, you survived to drive it another day.”
We reach the top of the hill, and just on the other side is a small car, very similar to Charlie’s, nose-first in the ditch. No one is in it, so they must have gotten a ride the rest of the way into town until they could tow it.
“See?”
Charlie crosses her arms over her chest. “I refuse to think badly of my car. And there’s nothing you say or do that could convince me otherwise.”
“What all do you need in town? I need to stop by Darlene’s.”
Charlie’s head whips around. “Do you have a girlfriend in town?”
“No.”
She leans back in her seat. “Does that mean you have a girlfriend out of town?”
“No.”
“Do you keep her in the basement?”
“You have a strange fascination with my nonexistent girlfriend.”
She shrugs. “Nah, I’m just trying to figure you out…why you’re such a recluse. I thought maybe, if you had somebody out here, it would make sense.”
“I’m not talking about girlfriends with you. We’re not friends. Just because I’m giving you a ride into town doesn’t mean we’re going back home to watch rom-coms and braid each other’s hair.”
Charlie turns to lean her back against the door as she studies me. “You know, I think your hair might actually be long enough to get a little bit of a braid in. We’ll try later.”
I glare at her.
“Road,” she says quietly.
I jerk my eyes back to the road and narrowly miss swiping the Flying J’s mailbox. They would have loved that. I’ve done it before. Hubert Jefferson—the owner of the Flying J cattle ranch—is a good guy. But I know his wife would be annoyed about their mailbox getting hit again.
I pull off the highway and drive past the store to park next to the diner.
We’re a little early for the lunch rush—and by lunch rush , I mean the six regulars who stop by to eat.
Charlie climbs out of the truck, catching the handle when she almost loses her footing on the slick snow. “Gosh darn these boots. They have horrible tread.”
“See? You’re a fall risk.” I grin down at her before I climb out of my side.
She stomps around the front of the truck and waits for me to step up on the sidewalk. “Fall risk? Would you be considered a fall risk if I push you?”
I glower at her, trying my best to keep a straight face. “How would you like to get some parking lot snow rubbed in your face?”
Charlie glances at the gray and black streaked snow and grimaces. “No thanks. I’d rather have lunch.”
I grab the wooden door to the diner, dodging the giant wreath covered in Christmas ornaments and give it a pull. It always sticks on the cold days.
“Ladies first,” I mutter.
“I’d curtsy, but my chauffeur just told me I’m a fall risk,” she whispers loudly to me when she walks in.
I notice that she takes a second to stomp her boots on the front rug, kicking off remnants of snow so she doesn’t track it into the small restaurant. There’s a handful of people sitting around sipping coffee or eating lunch.
I grab two menus off the shelf and pass one to Charlie before leading the way to my favorite table.
We sit down and peruse the menus without saying a word. I have the menu memorized, but maybe if I hide behind it, no one I know will come say hi.
A chair scrapes across the room, and a body lumbers toward us.
“Hey, Max!” Rod from the Gun & Rod club greets me with a slap on the back. “That your new pickup out there?”
“Sure is,” I reply as I hold out a hand to shake his.
“Is it running good?”
“So far so good. Can’t complain.”
Rod slaps my back once more. “Good, good. You gotta get on down to the place and shoot some clays with me.”
“I’ll be there,” I say as I watch Charlie take in the experience that is the Pine Star Cafe.
Rod moves back to his booth, where his wife is waiting for him.
“Who was that?” she asks in a whisper.
“Rod.”
Before she can ask another question, Sharon comes out from the kitchen with a notepad to take our order. “Max!” She pats my shoulder in a motherly fashion and glances out the window. “Oh, is that your truck out there?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I hand her the menu as she reaches for it.
“That’s a nice one.”
“It sure is.”
“How’s it running?” she asks as she picks up Charlie’s menu.
“Runs great.”
I glance at Charlie, who’s hiding her smile behind her hand.
We put in our order, and Charlie grins at me. “Does everyone in town know you? And your new truck?”
I snort. “No. You’re stereotyping a small town.”
The bell above the door jingles, and Jefferson walks in. Hubert Jefferson owns the Flying J just outside of town. A good guy. I glance back at Charlie and see her wide eyes. I look back at Jefferson to try to see what she sees. He’s a simple man wearing a cowboy hat as big as he is. His handlebar mustache is waxed on the ends. He wipes his boots on the front rug before he walks into the dining area—nothing too out of the ordinary.
He makes his way to our table and shakes my hand. “That your new truck out there?”
“Sure is.”
“Running good?”
“So far.”
“Well, it’s a nice one.”
I nod once, and then his attention lands on Charlie.
She smiles brightly at him.
I take a long drink of the Pepsi in front of me.
I get a nudge to the shoulder from Jefferson. “You gonna introduce me to your girlfriend?”
The Pepsi goes straight up into my nose, burning like lava.
Charlie extends a hand. “I’m Charlie.”
“I’m Hubert.” Hubert? He’s never just Hubert.
“Nice to meet you. You in town long?”
“For a few more weeks.”
“Can we do anything to change your mind and get you to stay longer?”
“Maybe. It’s growing on me.”
“Like a weed, huh?” Jefferson jokes.
“But a nice weed,” Charlie counters good-naturedly.
Jefferson chuckles. “Don’t say that to a farmer. No such thing as a good weed. But us cattle guys don’t mind as much.”
“Charlie’s not my girlfriend,” I finally manage to say.
Charlie grimaces, and Jefferson looks confused. “It’s true. He keeps asking, and I keep having to turn him down.”
Jefferson bursts into laughter. “Sounds about right.”
“Actually, her boyfriend just broke up with her,” I can’t resist saying. She practically dared me to tell it to people in town.
She turns a murderous glare in my direction.
Jefferson pats Charlie on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry about it. God didn’t bless everyone with brains. You two have a nice afternoon. Nice to meet you, Charlie.”
Jefferson walks away, and Charlie looks at me. “I think every person that walks in here is going to comment on your truck.”
“Not true.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Want to bet?”
“Sure.”
And that is how I lost a bet to Charlie Baxter and ended up paying for her lunch.