28. Charlie
CHAPTER 28
Charlie
“Charlie. Time to get up.”
That’s weird. The voice in my dream sounds just like my grandma.
“Charlie!”
My eyes fly open. I’m staring into my grandma’s face, which is hovering over me.
“Your boss is coming, and we need to take a pan of cinnamon rolls over there.”
“What time did you get up? Where on earth did you get the things to make cinnamon rolls?”
“I brought them with me, of course. You know I never leave home without a few staples.”
Staples? The woman brought the whole baking aisle.
Grandma continues, “And when Max said the boss was coming, I figured it’d be nice for them to have something to snack on when they arrive. But I remembered you locked the big house. I need you to open the door for me.”
I roll out of bed and stumble over to the bag that has my sweatshirts in it. Today is not a bra day. I lay awake until the early morning hours, my mind racing with everything Max had said to me in the past seventy-two hours.
I pull my hair back in a ponytail on top of my head and head downstairs.
Sitting on the counter is not one, not two, but three full pans of cinnamon rolls covered in frosting. “Grandma. How long have you been baking?”
“It takes the same amount of time to make three pans as one,” she says with a shrug. “We’ll leave a pan here for Max. That boy is a little too lean, anyway. He needs some meat on his bones.”
I turn to give her a look. “This coming from you?” Grandma is a lean, mean machine.
She waves a hand through the air. “Oh, pshhh. Come on.”
We each pick up a pan and go outside to walk the now-familiar path to the lodge. I unlock the door, and we walk inside the front door and hurry to the huge kitchen. “Three ovens? Can you imagine how many cookies you could bake with three ovens?” Grandma stares at the kitchen with almost reverence.
Apparently, she’d been a little distracted when we were cleaning yesterday and didn’t notice the monstrous kitchen.
“Maybe they need a personal chef,” Grandma says with a wink. “I could learn to make fancy-people food.”
I throw back my head and laugh. “I can just see you dishing up caviar.”
She grimaces and sets the pans on the counter. “Do you think they’ll think it’s strange I brought these cinnamon rolls?”
Leave it to Grandma. She’s not fazed by the six thousand square foot log cabin. Or the countless acres that go with the ranch. But throw three ovens in the mix, and suddenly, these people are out of her league.
“Grandma, these are nice, normal people.”
She raises one suspicious brow at that.
“And I’m sure they’ll love your cinnamon rolls.”
“Of course we will!” a booming voice greets us.
I turn around to see Alexander Whitlock walking down the hall, followed by Max.
Max looks so good this morning. The scruff accentuates his flushed cheeks, showing he’s been out in the cold for a while.
I glance at Alexander, who has pink cheeks and bright eyes. Apparently, Max had some help this morning. We greet each other, and I introduce Charlene to Alexander.
A door slams, and some voices yell out. “Why’d you leave so early, Grandpa?” Nash calls.
Alexander yells back, “I was growing old waiting for you two kids to get up!”
Nash Whitlock walks around the corner, holding Magnolia’s hand. Nash has light-brown hair, about the same color as mine, and is clean-shaven. He’s wearing jeans and a collared shirt.
Magnolia is wearing a cute bright-red sweater with her blonde hair curled and falling down around her shoulders. She has matching high-heeled red boot shoes. That girl’s shoe collection is something to envy. And she’s also so much tougher than me. I borrowed a pair of high heels from her for a date once. I lost all feeling in my feet for a week afterward. I asked her how she handled it, and she said the shoes are so cute you don’t even think about how uncomfortable they are. I told her that I did, indeed, think about the pain and promised never to borrow shoes from her again.
Magnolia lets go of Nash’s hand and hurries over to hug me. “I missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too!”
We pull apart, and she greets Max with a hug then spots my grandma standing by the ovens. “Charlene! I didn’t know you would be here so soon!” Magnolia hurries over to my grandma, bending down to give her a big hug. Grandma loves Magnolia and couldn’t stop talking about what a ‘sweet girl’ she was after the last time I took her to visit.
And Nash—I turn to look at him as he shakes Max’s hand—Nash is everything that’s good for Magnolia. A protective, supportive force to be reckoned with. Magnolia is tough enough to handle her own issues, but Nash has made it clear that she shouldn’t have to when he’ll gladly stick up for her.
“How’d you let this place get trashed so bad?” Nash asks with a laugh as he slaps Max on the back.
“You should probably think about getting new relatives,” Max answers dryly.
Nash shakes his head. “Oh, believe me. That’s at the top of my list. Trust me. In fact, I was thinking about taking Magnolia’s last name when we get married.”
“Hey, now!” Alexander Whitlock looks horrified. He’s from an old enough generation that something like that is unheard of to him.
“How did all of the renovations go?” Nash asks, changing the subject.
I give him a quick run down of everything I’ve done so far. “The only strange thing was burn marks on the wall in the living room. It almost looks like someone started a bonfire inside.”
Alexander starts coughing loudly, and Max leans over to pat his back.
Nash just shakes his head. “As long as it wasn’t an electrical problem, I don’t care what caused it.”
Max is looking awfully suspicious, grinning at Alexander, but I let it slide. We all make our way into the living room so I can show them that the wall is as good as new.
Then I just stand there and grin, watching all the little exchanges going on in the room around me.
Oddly enough, these are my people. I can already tell this is a good Christmas.
Whatever this thing is with Max, I can’t believe I feel so at peace about it. Usually, I get the new relationship high—the kind of high where I’m convincing myself that the guy could be the one.
I don’t have that frantic feeling with Max. Instead, I have excitement. Anticipation. I have butterflies, probably way too much attraction, and a confidence that he is a good man. I know I don’t have to pretend with him, which takes a load of pressure off. He likes me as me—not as someone trying to pretend to be different.
Max looks over at me and smiles, and I know I could happily look at that face for the rest of my life.
“So when are we having our owner’s meeting?” Nash asks as he looks at Max.
I jerk my head back and forth between them. “Owner’s meeting?”
Nash looks at me. “Yeah. Just to make sure we’re on the same page as Max. He owns half the ranch.”