Chapter Three
“Wake up, my beautiful girl…”
Charlotte recognized the sweet voice, but her eyes were still shut, sleep clogging her brain. It took a minute, but she managed to push past the exhaustion and open her eyes.
“Good morning, honey,” Grammy said.
Grammy’s face was a bit fuzzy, but it got clearer and clearer as the exhaustion still clinging to Charlotte slipped away. She blinked a few times, bringing the world and her sweet grandmother into focus.
“You didn’t have to sleep here all night,” Grammy said.
Charlotte sat up from the slouched position in the chair in the corner of her grandmother’s room and winced at the knot in her neck. She technically hadn’t been there all night, but she had come back to the recovery room after her “date” with Tripp.
It had been a long twelve hours.
Eventful, but long.
She was spent in more ways than one. Her chin burned where Tripp’s clean-shaven jaw had scraped her skin. Her thighs were a perfect kind of sore from his hips slamming into hers.
She replayed the final moments of last night. After the sex-crazed fog had cleared, they’d both adjusted their clothes in silence. Then he’d walked her to her rental car and kissed her. She’d said good-bye, and now, in the light of day, it felt like it was over. Just like they wanted.
Casual.
Time to get to the reason why she was really here: to help her Grammy, starting with getting her set up at home.
“You could have gone to the house,” her grandmother offered. “You didn’t need to stay here last night. It’s just ankle surgery.” Grammy tried to get herself out of the wheelchair on her massive cast and wrapped left ankle.
Charlotte jumped up and hugged an arm around her grandmother’s waist to help her balance on her good foot. “I didn’t want to go to the farmhouse without you. And should you be getting up like this?”
Her grandmother smelled like warm sugar and sunshine and every Sunday morning Charlotte had ever spent with her making strawberry pie.
“I’m fine. This silly thing will just slow me down.” She glared at the wheelchair like it had sprouted a mouth and insulted her. Looks like we’re going with the walker instead of the chair. “And I can’t get my boots around this cast, either. I get a walking cast in a couple weeks, but even then, getting around the farm will be too much on my own.”
“I know, Gram, which is why you have me,” Charlotte said, helping Grammy to the nearby walker. It had a small, low seat for her to rest her bent knee on while she scooted around with the other. “I don’t want you to push too hard. The doctor said your biggest risk is infection, so resting and keeping this clean is super important. No going near farm stuff outside.”
Her grandmother huffed in annoyance. She was a strong, stubborn woman, but the doctor had given Charlotte the rundown last night. The pins in Grammy’s ankle were holding the bone together. Eventually her aching joints would have much-needed relief thanks to this surgery, but she had to allow herself to heal first. Which meant Grammy had to be still and rest. Not her strong suit.
“I’m sorry it’s taken this to get me here,” Charlotte said. “I’ve been meaning to come visit, I just…”
“You hush with that,” he grandmother said, her blue eyes soft and kind, her short white hair sticking up from a night against the pillow. “You’ve been building a life, a career. I’m proud of the strong woman you are.”
Charlotte smiled. She’d missed Grammy and her unwavering support and kindness.
“Yeah, well, I’m here now and I don’t want you to worry about a thing. I’ll take care of everything you need done.” And she was happy to do so. Even though it was only for a few weeks, it would be nice to spend time with Grammy.
“I’m just happy to see you. We have so much to catch up on,” Grammy said, then turned her attention to the contraption she was trying to maneuver.
Charlotte turned the walker around and released the hand brake. “There you go.”
“Thank you, dear. So tell me, do you have a man?” she asked.
Charlotte blinked. Apparently “catch up” time was starting now.
Her mind immediately went to Tripp, but no. That was just a one-nighter. It was highly unlikely she’d see the man again since, according to Google Earth, her grandma’s house was in the middle of nowhere. The nearest grocery store looked to be several miles away, so it wasn’t like she’d be running into people regularly.
“Nope, no man.” She helped guide her grandma out of the room and toward the exit. “Let’s get you home.”
After a quick checkout process and the doctor reiterating that Grammy was to rest, they made a follow-up appointment a few weeks from then and got in the rental car.
It was a fifteen-minute drive out of Cheyenne on a single-lane highway with plains on either side. Only a few houses lay scattered across endless acres of farmland. She took a right turn onto a gravel road with a worn sign reading Studebaker Rd, and after another mile, they arrived at a two-story farmhouse that looked both old and loved. The light yellow exterior shone like melted butter in the afternoon sun.
Nothing but golden prairie and rolling hills surrounded it.
“You’re not exactly living on top of one another out here,” Charlotte said, pulling up in front of the house.
“Closest neighbor is about seven miles that way,” Grammy said, and pointed toward the horizon. Charlotte saw no signs of neighbors. Just a small red barn about a hundred yards away from Grammy’s house, and a bunch of random fencing sectioning off different parts of the property. No way could she see all fifty-plus acres that Grammy owned standing where she was. She’d have to go exploring.
“Around back is the garden,” Grammy said happily. “I’ve been working my tail off all winter to keep those roots alive, and they’re finally in picking season.”
Charlotte made a mental note: Don’t let garden die.
“And the flowers are all planted a week apart so we should have fresh blooms all summer!”
Pick fresh flowers for Grammy every week.
Charlotte gathered her overnight bag, tossed her computer bag on her free shoulder, and helped Grammy into the house. Even though the heat wasn’t on, it had a warmth in the way a lived-in, loved home did. There was a small sunroom where a single rocking chair sat next to a basket of yarn and knitting needles. She could picture Grammy out there, watching the wind swirl through the prairie grass while knitting.
Through the front door was a big couch, the same one she’d always had, gray and worn and overstuffed like a leathery cloud. Charlotte dumped her bags beside it. An entertainment center sat right in the middle of the room, complete with two shelves of VHS tapes.
Charlotte chuckled. Looked like Grammy still rented movies off cable and taped them.
There was a single white door next to the entertainment center, and Grammy started to scoot that direction. Charlotte followed, helping her navigate the walker past the furniture.
The door creaked open, like it was smiling. Charlotte pushed it along…and gasped.
Holy rooster room.
“I, um, love the wallpaper in here, Grammy,” Charlotte said, taking some of Grammy’s weight as she waddled from her walker to sit on the bed. The entire bedroom was decorated in various versions of brightly colored roosters. Charlotte pulled back the big patchwork quilt—covered with angular red and yellow roosters, of course—then lifted Grammy’s legs and helped her get comfortable.
“Thank you, honey. I decorated it myself.”
“Of course you did,” Charlotte said, fluffing the rooster-shaped throw pillows behind Grammy. Her grandmother was always doing something, was always busy and happy. Charlotte had no idea how Grammy would survive bed rest. Maybe she could ask her to knit her a wool hat, preferably not covered in roosters.
“I’m really okay,” Grammy said, patting her hand. “It’s just my ankle. I’m slow, not invalid.”
“I know. I just want you comfortable. So you rest, I’ll go make you some tea, and then we can chat about all the details and chores.”
“Thank you, honey. My lady friend Eliza has been coming over to feed Sampson and the rest of the animals, so you won’t need to worry about them.”
“Sampson?”
“The pig. You’ll see the pen on the backside of the barn over there.” She jutted her thumb behind her. “There’s all kinds of lovely animals out there. And chickens! Sweetest things.”
Mental note: Chickens…animals.
There had to be a lot of work that went with that, but Charlotte had no idea what. Probably a lot of feeding and cleaning up crap. She sighed. Her grandmother lived this way, though, did these chores every day. So Charlotte could do it, too.
First thing was tea.
She headed for the kitchen, noting the interesting layout of the house. The bedroom had two doors, like a line for a roller coaster: one entry, one exit. The back hallway featured a bathroom and a breakfast nook, opening into the kitchen through the opposite door. Huh. The kitchen had an entrance and exit, too, which meant if all the doors were left open, she could run circles through the entire house.
She figured another bathroom and bedrooms would be upstairs, but everything she needed was on this level.
As she put the teakettle on, she noticed two bowls laid out on the kitchen floor.
“Grammy?”
“Yes?”
“The bowls on the floor…whose are they?”
“Oh, those are out for Princess Peanut Butter.”
Who the hell is Princess Peanut Butter? “Is that your dog? Where is she?”
Grammy called for her “sweet little princess” while Charlotte finished up their tea. When she returned to her grandmother’s bedroom, the other woman looked upset.
“She must have gotten out,” Grammy said.
“Gotten out?”
“She’s allowed to go out, but only with me because there’s so much land. I don’t want her to get lost or run into a coyote.” Granny frowned. “I bet Eliza let her out and forgot.”
Ice water rushed through Charlotte’s veins, and her scalp prickled. Princess Peanut Butter didn’t sound like a killer of a dog. If the dog had gotten out and run into a coyote…
“It’s okay, Grammy. I’ll find her. She ate all the food so at least we know she’s not hungry.”
Her grandmother looked doubtful. “There’s a lot of land. You’ll need to take the four-wheeler. Take some of the cookies on the counter just in case you spot her. She loves them.”
Charlotte frowned. She knew what a four-wheeler was, but had no clue how to operate one. She had a driver’s license, though, so how hard could it be?
“The keys are hanging by the door. Please find her,” Grammy said.
Job one: find Grammy’s companion and hope to hell she—and the dog—didn’t wind up lost in the middle of nowhere Wyoming.
After changing into jeans and a tank top—and watching a few YouTube videos on how to operate a four-wheeler—Charlotte stood in front of the machine, her hands on her hips. Really…how hard could this be?
Hard, it turned out, but after a rough start, she was cruising around the property. She made a straight line from the back of the farmhouse out toward the horizon, leaving tracks in the dirt so she could find her way back.
She may not be a country girl, but she wasn’t an idiot, either.
She called out for Princess Peanut Butter and stopped a few times to hop off the machine and looked around. No sign of the dog. She’d just have to keep her eyes peeled.
The thrill of driving the machine was fun, though, her hair streaming behind her as she cruised the countryside at twenty-five miles an hour. She could see the appeal of this. Not long term, of course, but as a fun outing, riding through beautiful land.
She reached a small grove of pear trees, neatly lined in rows. She rolled to a stop and studied the small wire fence just a few yards off. Property line, likely. Grammy did say she had pear trees out at the end of her land.
Charlotte hopped down. Her jeans and tank were a little dusty, but she doubted the pear trees minded. She walked through the trees, fingers trailing along the bark. The pears looked ripe. The wind picked up, and the fruity smell of warm prairie grass danced over her nose.
“Hi!” a small voice rang out.
Charlotte jumped and screamed, stumbling back against a tree trunk.
The little voice giggled, and Charlotte turned to see a small girl, maybe five or six, peeking out from behind one of the pear trees.
Charlotte caught her breath and managed a tight smile. “Hi there.” Where had this kid come from? The only things in sight were a massive hill, a single cow, and a dirty pickup truck. All were more than football field away. “You’re not out here alone, right?”
The girl moved closer and looked at Charlotte’s shoes. She had packed her bright red Chanel rain boots for the trip, and even though it wasn’t muddy, they were the first thing she grabbed when realizing she’d have to ride that four-wheeler. High heels wouldn’t do.
“I’m a big girl. I can go as far as the pear trees as long as my daddy and uncles can see me,” the girl replied proudly. Her focus was still on Charlotte’s boots. The girl was wearing her own pair of mini cowgirl boots…which were getting closer and closer to Charlotte with each tiny step.
Charlotte had zero interest in, or knowledge about, kids. At all. But this girl was cute. Maybe she could help. “Hey, have you seen a dog around here?” she asked.
“You have pretty boots,” the girl said back, still inching toward her. One more step and her boot would touch Charlotte’s.
“Thanks, so, ah…dog? Have you seen one?”
The girl frowned. “Whose dog? There’s only one around here, and she belongs to Mrs. Gram. You’re a stranger.”
Great. Now she was in trouble with a kindergarten cop.
“I’m looking for Mrs. Gram’s dog. I’m her granddaughter.”
The girl’s eyes went wide, and a big smile overtook her face. “You live here now? We can climb the pear tree!” The girl darted back to the tree and grabbed on the lowest branch and dangled. No way could she get higher than that, but she liked the girl’s ambition.
“I’m staying here for a little while,” Charlotte said, trying for a different approach. “And Grammy really misses her dog, so I kind of need to find her.”
The girl dropped from the branch and frowned. “Mrs. Gram is sad?”
“Yes.” Clearly her grandmother had a bond with this child, and she liked that. This girl reminded her of herself as a kid—a little wild and all over the place.
The girl appeared to mull this over. “I will help you find Princess,” she said with a nod. “But I can’t go farther than this—tree.” The girl hit the trunk of the pear tree. “Daddy will be scared if I do.”
“Understood,” Charlotte said, glancing out at the truck that was still a hundred yards away. “What’s your dad doing?”
The girl shrugged. “Cow stuff. Uncle Bo and Uncle Cash help him. We live that way.” She pointed out past the truck. They were too far away to see these uncles, but Charlotte figured they looked like John Wayne, with leathery skin and white hair.
“Cool,” Charlotte said.
“Cool,” the girl mimicked with a smile. “You’re pretty.”
“Thanks. You are, too.”
The girl smiled, her bright blond curls bouncing. “These are my new boots. They have little hearts on them, can you see?” The girl bent down and pointed to the hearts.
“Yep, that’s awesome.”
“Yours don’t have hearts. If you want some, I can take you to the Wrangler store. They have everything. Daddy takes me there for school shopping. But it’s summer right now, so no school shopping until August, he said.”
Charlotte smiled. One, from the girl’s cuteness and willingness to take her into town on her tiny whim despite not being able to pass a tree, and two, because she actually knew where the Wrangler store was. Tripp would probably say she was halfway to being a local.
“I think I’ll take you up on that,” Charlotte said. That’s what you said to kids, right? Whatever it took to make them feel validated? Honestly, Charlotte didn’t know. Her mother was a poor excuse for a parent, and Charlotte always assumed she lacked that necessary thing women had to desire children as a result. But this girl, with her big blue eyes and pink cheeks that had a smattering of smudges from dust, made her want to be kind.
The truck started, kicking up dust as it headed their way.
“Ah, looks like your dad or uncle is coming,” Charlotte said to the girl.
“Yeah.” The girl didn’t spare a glance over her shoulder, already back to looking at Charlotte’s boots.
The truck pulled up and out stepped a dirty cowboy-looking guy with super-dark hair and a sexy swagger in his step. She’d never seen him before in her life, but she’d recognize that attitude anywhere. The man knew he looked good and was prepared to use it to his advantage.
She’d instantly decided how to handle a man like that. Cool politeness. She’d been around enough men with ego trips in L.A.; she didn’t need to inflate anyone’s head further, California, Wyoming, or otherwise.
But then a voice came from the driver’s side of the truck. A voice not attached to the black-haired cowboy.
“Gracie Ray, we’re heading out.”
That voice.
She knew that voice.
Another dusty cowboy came around the front of the truck, only the swagger in his step was more deliberate and sexy and…
“Tripp?” Charlotte choked out.
He stopped a few yards out and frowned. “Charlotte?”
“Daddy!” the girl said, and ran to him.
Daddy?
Mr. Cowboy had a kid? This kid?
Holy shit…
Please tell me he’s not married.
Tripp scooped his daughter up, but never took his eyes off of Charlotte. “What are you doing here?”
“I, ah…” Words deserted her. Probably because Tripp didn’t look happy to see her. And he didn’t look happy that she’d been talking to his daughter, either.
In fact, he looked downright irritated.
Which pissed her off.
Charlotte folded her arms across her chest. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Obviously she had no idea they’d run into each other again, or she’d have reconsidered her “one night of enjoying the cowboy” plan. He could just turn that frown he was giving her right around.
She lifted her chin. “I’m on my property looking for my dog.”
“Is that right?” he challenged. “Because this here property line separates my property from Mrs. Gram’s. And if memory serves, I don’t recall your name to be Mrs. Gram.”
“No, it’s Miss Gram,” she shot back. “And I don’t recall you mentioning several things about yourself, including your status within the cow industry or the fact that you lived next door to my grandmother.” Not that he had cause to, but still.
Tripp opened his mouth to argue, but the other cowboy laughed and closed the distance between them. “My word, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gram,” he said, and took off his hat, revealing all that thick black hair. “I’m Bo Drake. I run the Montgomery ranch with Tripp and my cousin Cash.”
Ah, the uncles Grace mentioned. Definitely not the John Wayne types she’d imagined.
“I’m sorry for my friend here’s rude welcome,” he finished.
She shook his hand. “No problem. I’m just here helping my grandma recover from ankle surgery.”
Tripp’s frown deepened. “She said Charlie was coming in to help her.”
Charlotte smiled. Her Grammy hadn’t called her Charlie in a while. “That’s me.”
Tripp’s eyes went wide just as Bo said, “Well, hot damn. Looks like we’re neighbors!”
Charlotte’s blood ratcheted up a few degrees. From desire? Or her rising irritation? She thought she’d never see Tripp again, and now they were literally landlocked. Her body chose that moment to ache in delicious memory of all the things he’d done to her. Traitor.
“You’re taking over the Gram farm?” Tripp asked.
His disbelief doused the heat building in her core faster than if he’d thrown a bucket of ice water at her. She nodded and lifted her chin higher, hoping he couldn’t read on her face that she was 1,000 percent out of her element.
Apparently she failed, because Tripp let out an amused laugh. “Well, good luck to you, darlin’. Running a farm, even a small one like Gram’s, is a job.”
“Good thing I know how to work.”
Tripp muttered something under his breath about her foot attire that didn’t sound flattering. “We’ve gotta get on our way. Good luck to you.”
Grace wiggled out of her father’s grip and threw her arms around Charlotte’s waist, giving her the biggest mini hug she’d ever had.
Uh… Charlotte’s hands fell to her sides. What was she supposed to do? Hug the girl back? She looked to Tripp for help.
He just scowled.
Like the fact that his daughter’s hugging her upset him.
Which made her feel kind of crappy.
Charlotte went with an awkward pat on the girl’s head. “Nice meeting you,” she said to Grace.
Grace smiled up at her. “Don’t forget shopping tomorrow.”
“Wait, what?” Tripp choked out.
“Me and Charlie are going shopping for boots,” Grace said proudly.
Great, now the girl was calling her Charlie. “We were just chatting about boots,” she offered lamely. “We don’t have to go.”
“Yes we do. You promised!”
If he’d looked unhappy before, Tripp looked at a total loss now. Seriously, what was this guy’s problem? “We’ll talk about this later,” he said.
“Well, that sounds like fun to me,” Bo said, and tipped his hat at Charlotte. “Ma’am, it’s been a pleasure. If you need anything, you just holler at us.”
Yeah, right. With the way Tripp was looking at her, she’d never holler in his presence ever again. She appreciated Bo’s kindness all the same.
“Thank you,” she said as they headed to the truck. Tripp loaded Gracie in, then looked back at Charlotte one last time. She needed to say something. To let him know that she wasn’t out here trying to mess up his world. They’d agreed to one night, and while it was the hottest night of her life, she intended to keep that promise.
“I was just looking for my grandma’s dog,” she called after him.
Tripp lifted an eyebrow, then whistled. Loudly. She had no idea why, but it was sexy as sin.
What wasn’t sexy was the thumping coming toward them from down the tree line.
Charlotte turned to see a massive dog bounding her way.
“Oh my God…is that…?”
“Princess Peanut Butter,” Tripp confirmed, and got in his truck.
The dog was coming in hot. And by dog, she meant wolf. Because that’s what the massive fluff ball looked like. A fricking wolf.
“That…that thing looks wild…” Charlotte said, backing toward a pear tree.
Tripp chuckled. “Princess is a husky. Very friendly. You’ll be fine.”
Yeah. She was in way over her head.
…
“Man, I’m so sorry I didn’t see that snake earlier,” Bo said, following Tripp onto the porch.
Tripp slapped his dusty Stetson against his thigh and put it on the hat rack by the door. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Bo snorted. “Oh, I figured a snake must have bitten your ass out there because I’ve never seen you so pissy.”
“Funny,” Tripp said. They both kicked their boots against the doorframe, letting the dust fly outside.
Gracie had already bolted through the house, and from the clinking coming from her room down the hall, she’d started setting up her tea set.
He’d take a tea party with his daughter over another confrontation with the too-sexy-for-his-sanity Miss Gram any day.
Or so he kept telling himself.
He wasn’t trying to be an asshole. He’d just seen how Gracie was looking at Charlotte and lost his shit a bit. His daughter gravitated toward every woman she met until, inevitably, she realized they weren’t going to move in and be her mom. Seeing that attachment and disappointment play out over and over had damn near been his undoing.
No. He couldn’t get more involved with Charlotte than he already had. For Gracie’s sake. Not because he was thinking of the sexy glow in Charlotte’s eyes when she came and what he’d do to see that again.
“Seriously, what the hell is your problem?” Bo asked. “Miss Gram is hot and—”
“And talking to Gracie.”
“So, what, you hate any woman who talks to Gracie?”
“No, I just don’t want her getting attached. Charlotte already made a promise to her that I’m going to have to break.”
It was exactly what Tripp was afraid of. Gracie getting her hopes up and Tripp having to explain that his “special friend” didn’t work out and…no. No, no, no. He didn’t date precisely so he’d never have to have that conversation with Gracie. He refused to see the sad look in her eyes ever again.
I’ve been so careful…
The night with Charlotte had been fucking amazing, and sure, he’d woken up hard that morning, thinking of her warm skin with only a cold sheet to greet him. She was sexy and smart and there was something in her eyes that called to him. A deep longing. Sadness. He’d had a soul-deep need to make that flicker of sadness disappear.
But a roll in his truck wasn’t where it ended. They were neighbors now. And Gracie already liked her.
“Well, whatever your problem is, just know you’ll have a tough time keeping Gracie away,” Bo said.
“No shit.”
“And you owe me a condom. I saw you broke into my stash in the glove box.”
Fucking perfect. Tripp raked his fingers through his hair and headed to the kitchen for a cup of cold coffee. It had automatically brewed at five this morning, but had he made time to drink it? Nope. He never did, and neither did Bo or Cash. Every day went about the same way: an early morning, followed by cold coffee and sandwiches at lunch. Then they’d be back out on the ranch. They all knew the routine and met back here at lunchtime. He could plan his watch around it.
“Got the salt licks out on the east forty,” Cash said, coming in the back door. He poured himself some coffee and sat across from Bo. “How’d you boys do this afternoon?”
“Oh, we did great,” Bo said with a chuckle. “Made a new friend.”
“Yeah? Who?”
Tripp just shook his head, wanting this conversation to be over with.
“Mrs. Gram’s hot granddaughter,” Bo said, and waggled his eyebrows. “Seems she already knows Tripp. Can’t imagine how.”
“Shut up,” Tripp said. And where did Bo get off calling her hot? He loved the guy like a brother, but refused to think of Charlotte as ever being a notch in Bo’s bedpost. She was better than that.
Not that Tripp was jealous or anything.
Cash looked between the two of them. “Is that the woman he hooked up with last night?”
Bo nodded.
“Well, if that isn’t pleasant irony,” Cash said, and slapped the table.
“No, not pleasant,” Tripp grumbled. “We’ll just stick to our land and I bet we won’t even see her.”
“Gracie was there,” Bo told Cash, ignoring Tripp.
Cash’s eyes went wide. “She met Gracie?”
“Yep. And Gracie loves her. Tripp is having damn aneurysm over it, but I think it’s good for her. Plus, the woman is smokin’ sexy—”
“I’m standing right here,” Tripp snapped. “Jesus, you’re like a gossiping girl.”
“I thought you didn’t care?” Bo challenged.
“I don’t.”
“Well, I do. My mama raised me to be kind to my neighbors. Maybe I’ll be neighborly and pop on over to see how the Gram women are doing,” Bo said, leaning back in his seat.
Red heat snapped behind’s Tripp’s eyes, and the vein in his neck thumped harder.
“Like hell you will,” he bit out.
Cash laughed. “Yep, he’s losing his shit.”
Tripp shoved away from the table and stood. “This isn’t anything we should get involved in. If Mrs. Gram thinks Charlotte can run the farm, that’s her business.”
Bo picked up the newspaper and flipped through the first few pages. “You know better than anyone what it’s going to take to run that little farm. Not much for an experienced farmer, but that little miss tackling all those tasks? Alone? All day and night…”
Bo grinned over the paper and Tripp knew what he was doing—trying to get a rise out of him. It was working.
“She’ll be fine. She’s strong-willed.”
Bo chuckled. “Oh, I can tell. She all but told off our boy here,” he told Cash. “Had that sexy little chin up in the air, all huffy and confident. Mmm. It’s a good look on the woman.”
Cash laughed.
“Shut. Up,” Tripp growled.
Cash grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked him back down into his chair. “Calm down. We’re just giving you shit. Is she really running Mrs. Gram’s place alone?”
“She’ll be fine.”
“Mrs. Gram is a seasoned farmer and knows her land. A newbie coming in with no experience is going to struggle. Plus taking care of her grandmother? Bo’s right. That’s a lot.”
Tripp took a deep breath. He knew it was. And he loved Mrs. Gram. She was the kindest woman he’d ever known. She had moved to the farm right after his life imploded, and immediately started bringing him food and watching Gracie. When Tripp was no more than a struggling, scared man with a newborn and no experience, the older woman had been a lifesaver. She loved Gracie like a great-grandchild, she’d said, which was why he’d been happy to help while she was laid up, but she insisted “Charlie” was coming to help. Tripp had thought that’d be her male kin. Not Charlotte. With that sexy mouth or endless legs.
Shit.
He needed to help. It was the right thing to do. And Mrs. Gram would do it—had done it—for him.
Charlotte was in over her head, even if she didn’t know it yet. Trying to find a dog looked to be more than she could handle.
“I’ll make sure things run smoothly over there,” Tripp conceded.
Bo and Cash cheered like they’d won some battle. He knew what his friends really wanted, but going after the woman was not on his agenda.
“I’m not budging on the Gracie thing. I don’t want her getting attached.”
Both guys nodded.
Now it was up to Tripp to not let himself get too deep, either.
…
Charlotte staggered through the front door and let out a heavy sigh. Princess Peanut Butter bounded past her and straight into Grammy’s room.
“Oh, there’s my precious baby,” she heard Grammy coo, accompanied by the jingle of Princess Peanut Butter’s collar. Sounded like she was getting all the pets. The dog was so animatedly loud, Charlotte could hear every pant and slurp and shake from the front room.
Precious baby, my ass.
That thing was a beast. Sweet, but a beast.
The thing thankfully followed her back home, keeping pace with the four-wheeler.
But Charlotte’s nerves were fried more because of the encounter with Tripp and the entire Montgomery crew.
She slipped off her boots, dusted her hands, and went into her Grammy’s room. Princess was taking up half the queen bed and Grammy lay beside her, lazily petting the dog.
“You feeling okay? You ready for a pain pill?” Charlotte asked.
“Not just yet,” she said. “Thank you for getting Princess. I was worried.”
“She was easy to find. Right by the pears,” Charlotte said. She shifted from foot to foot. “So…I ran into the people on the next ranch over.” She tried to sound casual, but her mind was closer to tense than calm.
“Oh, the Montgomerys. Such kind young men. Their little Gracie is adorable. Reminds me of you when you were young. Smart, feisty little thing.”
Charlotte smiled, but held her tongue. She wanted to ask more, but didn’t want to rouse her grandmother’s suspicions. It was clear Tripp was not happy with her. But why? It’s not like she thought she’d ever see him again. Wasn’t like she was a crazy stalker chick after his ranch fortune.
The more she thought about it, the madder she got. He’d been a dick for no reason.
Screw it.
“Yeah, the kid was nice. Can’t say the same about her dad, though.”
Grammy gaped at Charlotte like she’d just spoken blasphemy. “Tripp Montgomery is the nicest man on earth.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Charlotte muttered. “He was pretty harsh to me.”
Grammy’s frown deepened. “Oh honey, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. You said you saw his daughter? I know he’s very protective. Maybe he just came off harsh because he wasn’t prepared for you.”
Got that right.
But she wasn’t prepared for him, either, walking into her life like a frickin’ cowboy car repair hero. “Well, it’s not like we’ll be seeing much of them anyway,” Charlotte said. Hoped.
Grammy scoffed. “Sure you will. Gracie is here all the time. And Tripp offered to look after things while I was in the hospital. He’s not one to let things lie. I’m sure we’ll be seeing plenty of them.”
“Then why am I here?” Charlotte asked, sounding a little harsh herself. She didn’t mean it. Her grand plan of not running into Tripp for the summer had just gone down the drain in spectacular fashion. The more he was around, the more she feared she’d think of the way his mouth felt against her skin.
“Tripp and the boys over there have a whole ranch to run. They can’t take on my little farm, too, no matter how good their intentions. But if you’d rather not be here, I understand.”
Charlotte scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just a little frazzled. I’m happy to be here, and I don’t want you to worry. We don’t need anyone else’s help. I’ve got this all covered.”
Grammy gave an “oh really?” smile and handed her the legal pad that had been sitting on her headboard. Charlotte glanced at what appeared to be three pages of script containing lists and instructions.
“Those are the notes I took and a list of my daily tasks to keep the house and farm running,” Grammy said.
Charlotte skimmed the beginning of the list quickly, and her heart stuttered.
Feed the chickens
Relieve Wynonna
Harvest pears, herbs, root veggies
Can and preserve herbs, pears, and veggies
Clean stalls and coop
Charlotte blinked several times. No way was she ready to read the rest of the list if that was just the first page.
“No problem. Got it covered.” Did her voice sound as shaky as it felt? She hoped not. How did her grandmother do all of this daily? Grammy only ever said a few animals were all it took to “live off the land.”
There were a lot more than a few animals on this list.
“I appreciate you so much, honey.”
Charlotte nodded, deciding to take a shower and get a jump on making dinner and tackling the house chores. She could pick a bedroom and settle in later. Tomorrow, she was going to start a fresh day of a new life. For the next several weeks, at least.
She only had one website to build while she was on the farm, which had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. She’d tried for a more permanent job at a few agencies around L.A., but hadn’t heard anything in weeks, which worked out now that her grandmother needed her. Working for herself was as flexible as it got.
Didn’t pay as well, though. She only had a couple weeks to find a full-time job at a Web development company or she wasn’t going to be able to pay her bills next month. It was either that or land a huge client, which wasn’t working out so far. Charlotte was still relatively new to the industry. She needed the clout of an agency to build a clientele and reputation.
She also needed the regular income.
Later. She’d deal with all that later. Right now, Grammy needed her.
She shook her head, trying to tackle one stressful thing at a time. If only there was a way to blow off some of this tension…
Her mind shot to Tripp. And last night.
“And honey, Tripp is a good friend to have,” her grandmother said as if reading her mind. “I urge you to mend your differences.”
Charlotte glanced at the notepad again, wanting to talk about anything but the sinful Tripp Montgomery and “mending” their differences.
“Hey, Grammy?” she asked, examining the paper again. “Who’s Wynonna?”
“She’s my dairy cow. Gotta relieve her every day and get that milk.”
Mental note: YouTube how to milk a cow.