11. Charlie
CHAPTER 11
Charlie
The ride back from town is fairly peaceful. Max doesn’t say anything snarky. He simply stops at the café, buys more soup, comes back to the truck, and we drive back to the ranch with the radio playing Christmas music in the background.
It’s better than bickering the whole way.
When we get back to the ranch, Max parks the truck in front of the lodge.
He climbs out and walks toward the barn, whistling for the dogs.
I guess there’s no need for conversation. “Thank you!” I yell after him. He keeps walking.
I button my jacket up then focus on moving my lumber into the house. I hate to admit it, but I was delusional thinking I could haul it on top of my Honda—at least in one trip. I could have easily gotten it in three.
As I’m grabbing the last two boards out of the back of the truck, I pause when I hear an engine rumble. I turn to watch as a truck appears at the top of the last hill. The tires crunch the gravel and snow as they roll to a stop a little ways away. It’s a flatbed pickup with a round hay bale sitting on the back and a brush guard big enough for moose on the front.
Two men climb out and give me simultaneous nods.
The younger one was driving, and an almost identical gentleman that is twenty years his senior closes the passenger door. A dog jumps out of the cab and runs over to greet me.
It’s a short-hair border collie that looks like it couldn’t be still if it wanted to. Its whole body is wagging as I reach down to pet him.
“Watch out—” one of the men says just as the dog pees right next to my boot.
“Get in the truck, Bear,” the older gentleman tells the dog. The dog does the guilty shuffle back to the truck and takes a flying leap, making it all the way through the open window without even touching the side of the truck.Impressive.
“I’m sorry about that,” the younger man says. “He’s a little excitable.”
“That’s fine. At least he’s friendly.”
“A little too friendly,” the older man says with a chuckle. “I’m Billy Madden. This is my son, Zane.”
I smile at both of them because I don’t know what else to do. They’re obviously from around here, so they should know that I wouldn’t be helpful with anything. “I’m Charlie. Are you looking for Max?”
“Nah, we came out to talk to you,” Billy says.
My smile turns a little brittle. What on earth do they want with me?
“We just came from the store. Henry said you’re a contractor.” Billy pushes his cowboy hat back, and now I can see those bushy eyebrows even better.
“Dad.” Zane looks at me as he shakes his head. “Listen, I’m sorry. Dad heard there was a contractor in town and wants to hire you.” He points to the lumber hanging out of Max’s truck. “Obviously you’re busy with other stuff.”
Zane looks to be somewhere around his mid-thirties and is wearing a ball cap instead of a cowboy hat. He’s a good-looking guy, without a doubt. Dark hair curling out from under his hat and matching scruff on his face. “I’m sorry we’re wasting your time.”
“You didn’t even let me tell her what I’d like to hire her to do!” Billy interjects.
“I’m booked until the new year. But I might have some openings after that…” I say it slowly, not wanting to commit myself to something without knowing what it is.
“The new year is only a couple of weeks away. I can wait,” Billy replies with a grin.
“Wait for what?” a voice behind me says.
I jump and spin around, bumping my arm against Max, who snuck up behind me.
Max grasps my elbow and pulls me a little closer to him. Odd.
I glance back at the two men to see if they notice the same strange behavior. Zane is smirking, and Billy seems oblivious. “I want to build that walled-in porch for Dee.”
Max relaxes next to me, dropping my arm. “In that case…”
“And I need someone to finish the renovations on the second house.”
Max clutches my arm again. Zane’s smile falls from his face. “Dad.” His tone is a warning.
“Maybe she’ll like it and want to stay,” Billy says with a grin. He shuffles forward and pulls a card from his back pocket. “You think about it and give me a call. I talked to Alexander, and he said you do good work.”
He passes me the card, touches the brim of his hat, and walks back to the pickup.
Zane nods to Max. “St. James.”
“Madden,” Max replies.
“Sorry about that.” Then he turns and walks back to the truck.
Max and I stand side by side, watching them turn the truck around and drive away. “What was that all about?”
Max snorts. “Rumor has it Billy told Zane he has to be married by summer if he wants to take over the ranch. I think you were just offered the position as his wife.”
“His what?!” I shriek.
Max grins down at me. “What? Not interested in the position?”
I open my mouth to yell at him about what a ridiculous notion it is then realize that he’s teasing me. I snap my jaw closed and pretend to think about it. “Does it come with a house?”
“That’s what they want you to finish building for them.”
“And cows?”
“They’re big into black Angus genetics,” Max confirms.
“Well, he is good looking…” I twirl the card around my fingers as I pretend to think about it. “And I do like cows.”
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.