Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

I T WAS CHAOS . But Charlotte smiled anyway. A wide, genuine smile since this particular chaos was the start of having her dream come true.

Only eight days ago today, Mr. Becker had taken that nasty fall and had agreed to sell her the place. That had created a flurry of medical attention for him and a flurry of paperwork for her. Even though the expedited closing was still another five days away, Becker had given her the written okay to start renovations along with agreeing to sell her any and all furniture in the house that she wanted to keep.

Now there was a full work crew in the barn and more workers on the second and third floors to update the three bathrooms that were already there. Painters were in the rooms where the personal items had already been packed up.

Vehicles for the various workers were parked willy-nilly, crushing the weeds and making the surrounding areas of the house and barn look like a parking lot. The electricians, plumbers and carpenters were all going full speed ahead with lots of sawing, drilling and buzzing. The spring air was filled with sawdust, latex paint, sweat and chewing tobacco.

But not text dings.

She knew that for certain because Charlotte had been checking her phone. Nothing from Cal, which was far more disappointing than it should have been. After all, she and Cal had sort of unfinished business. Becker had agreed to sell her the place, so there was no need for a fake engagement. Added to that, Cal was probably busy with his family and the ranch. She'd caught whiffs of gossip about him working on a deal that would bring in yet more rescue horses to the ranch. So a good cause.

Still, she kept checking her phone—like now, for instance—to see if she'd missed a message from him. Nope. Nor was there one from her mother. That wouldn't last. Izzie had been either texting daily reminders or calling to press Charlotte to contact Noah and try to get back together with him, and she was certain Izzie wouldn't go a full twenty-four hours without another round of pressure.

She glanced back through the texts and smiled when she reread the latest one from Alden. Charlotte had not only sent him the plans for the place but photos of the bedroom that would be his. Unlike her mother, Alden gave his approval with some thumbs-up emojis and "Can't wait" comments.

Charlotte looked up from the box of Becker's things she'd just packed and was hauling out onto the porch, and she spotted Mandy making her way from the barn toward the house. She no longer had the huge bags of sandwiches that Charlotte had had delivered so hopefully the workers approved of getting a free lunch and would work even faster.

Because they'd closed the law office for the day, Mandy was wearing ratty jeans and an equally ratty shirt, just as Charlotte was doing. Fitting, since they'd taken on the chore of packing item after item into boxes so they could then be put in storage. For now, though, they were moving them onto the porch where the plan was for them to be picked up by a moving company later that day.

Becker had declined Charlotte's offer to let him watch the packing process on a computer—or rather a "gall-danged boob tube"—which Charlotte had been relieved to learn wasn't a reference to breasts but rather what some people had once called the TV. She considered it a blessing for both of them that Becker had opted out of the boob-tube viewing. He probably wouldn't have liked watching her paw through his things, and she certainly wouldn't have liked him watching her do the sorting. That'd been especially true since she'd been the one who'd packed his underwear.

Both pairs of it.

Apparently, the man didn't see the sense in owning a lot of duplications, which considerably lightened the packing load. One pot, one frying pan, one plate, a single set of silverware. She'd found boxes of other similar items already packed away in one of the bedrooms, and she could only guess that Becker had done that sometime in the past thirty years since he'd been the sole occupant of the place.

"How are things going in the barn?" Charlotte asked Mandy.

Mandy shook her head, causing her long ponytail to swish. Like Charlotte, her face was past the glistening stage, and they had moved on to full-fledged perspiring. The house had AC, thank goodness, but with all the box hauling, it was still sweaty work.

"There's a whole lot of cursing going on in there," Mandy said. That put some alarm on Charlotte's face, but her friend instantly waved it off. "The gist is they're not used to working together like this, and while the sandwiches were a hit, the cursing and grumbling are still the main form of communication."

No, working together like that wasn't the norm, and the contractor had emphasized that to Charlotte. But Charlotte had stressed that she wanted the place up and running as soon as possible. The barn was a key part of the facility since it would house the exercise, training, therapy and rec areas, complete with an indoor hot tub to help those who were going through physical therapy.

"How's it going in there?" Mandy asked, tipping her head to the house. "Find any porn, illegal weapons or anything interesting?"

"Depends on your definition of interesting . I found two sets of dentures in one of the bedrooms. Mr. Becker appears to have his own teeth so I'm not sure who they belong to."

Apparently, that didn't qualify as interesting for Mandy, and she came up the porch steps, no doubt to get started on yet more packing. However, she stopped right in front of Charlotte and looked at her.

"Why don't you just call or text him?" Mandy asked. "I saw you checking your phone again," she tacked on.

Charlotte didn't bother pretending that she didn't know who Mandy was talking about. Cal, of course. "Because he's busy."

Mandy muttered an exaggerated uh-huh . "Word is he's checking his phone a lot, too."

Charlotte frowned. "Who would notice something like that?"

"Hello? In Emerald Creek, who wouldn't notice?" Mandy insisted. "Cal is under a gossip microscope, what with the fake engagement and buzz about Harper."

Of course, Charlotte had heard some of that. No way for her to avoid it. But to notice that Cal was checking his phone? He could have been doing that because of something work-related. It might not have anything to do with her.

But Charlotte wanted it to be because of her.

She wanted Cal to be thinking of her as much as she was thinking of him. And that was a lot. Heck, she was even dreaming about it, and she had this giddy buzz that she hadn't gotten since way back in high school. It was because of that buzz and the talk about Cal that she at first thought she might be hallucinating when she saw an approaching truck with Cal behind the wheel. But it was the real deal. Cal himself. And he wasn't alone.

Becker was in the passenger seat.

"What the heck is Becker doing here?" she muttered.

Last she'd heard the man was still recovering in the hospital after having yet a second round of surgery. Charlotte felt fear shiver through her, and her first thought was a horrible one. That Becker had insisted Cal bring him here so he could call off the sale.

"Everything's okay," Cal said as he stepped from the truck. "He hasn't changed his mind."

The relief caused her legs to turn to jelly for a moment, and maybe because she looked ready to drop into a puddle, Cal hurried to her. "Everything's okay," he repeated in a murmur. Well, actually it was a sexy drawl where his mouth seemed to kiss each word.

Mercy, it was good to see him. Especially good when he wasn't in the bad-messenger mode. Well, hopefully he wasn't.

She welcomed the hug Cal gave her. Except it wasn't actually a hug. More of a bracing because she probably still looked ready to topple over.

"Becker just wanted to see the place one last time," Cal explained. "He has strict instructions from his doctor not to walk yet so I put his wheelchair in the back of the truck."

"They let him out of the hospital?" she asked.

"He more or less insisted on it. More than less," Cal muttered.

He looked at her. Full eye contact, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. Then he cursed himself and moved back away from her.

Since that had basically been her reaction to thinking about Cal over the past week, she totally understood. He was glad to see her. Wasn't so glad that the seeing qualified as the ultimate It's complicated .

"How's it going, Mandy?" Cal called out while he went back to the truck to hoist out the wheelchair.

"Lots of cursing in the barn, but other than that, it's okay," Mandy said, using her forearm to swipe the sweat off her face.

As Charlotte had done, Cal frowned at the cursing remark. "Want me to go check on things?"

"Yes," Mandy said with conviction, just as Charlotte said, "Thanks, but don't trouble yourself."

Apparently, she was less convincing than Mandy, because Cal muttered something about doing that check in the barn as he lifted Becker off the truck seat. Becker wasn't a heavyweight by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a grown man. Still, Cal obviously had some upper body strength because he maneuvered Becker into the waiting wheelchair.

Jack, the dog, barreled out right behind his owner, and apparently she was glad to be home because she yapped, danced around and then took off running to check out the other vehicles.

"Stay close, Jack," Becker warned her. "And don't get in anybody's way. This isn't our place anymore."

There was more of a tinge of sadness in his comment, and again, Charlotte hoped he wasn't regretting the decision to sell the ranch to her.

Becker must have already had some training on how to use the automatic function on the chair because he immediately started toward her. The chair bobbled a bit on the uneven ground. Uneven because the clumps of weeds were now basically stomped down.

"If you find any dolls, they're not mine," Becker insisted.

Charlotte glanced at Mandy, who shook her head. "We haven't found any dolls."

"Well, if you do, they aren't mine," he repeated. "My cousin Gertie lived here when my folks were still alive, and she was always making these creepy dolls and hiding them in places where they'd end up scaring people."

That would have certainly added some excitement to the packing. "No dolls, creepy or otherwise," Charlotte assured him. "But I did find two sets of dentures."

"Gertie's," Becker promptly provided. "She used to work in an old folks' home over in Bulverde, and she'd take discarded teeth, eyeglasses, wigs and such and use them on the dolls." He shook his head in disgust. "Damn weird, if you ask me."

Charlotte had to agree, and part of her wished she'd find one of the dolls just to see if they lived up to Becker's description.

Becker eyed the boxes stacked up on the porch. Eyed the steps, too, that were in no way user-friendly to someone in a wheelchair.

"I'm having a ramp built," Charlotte explained, pointing to the right end of the porch. "It's on the schedule for the end of the week. Well, it is if the carpenters finish in the barn," she added in a mutter.

Cal immediately glanced in that direction. "I'll check and see how things are going. If they're falling behind, we have a couple of hands with carpentry experience, and I'll have them come over."

Charlotte smiled, thanked him and felt the warmth wash over her. It was temporary, though, since Cal got that "It's complicated" look in his eyes again, and he headed for the barn.

"I'll do some more packing," Mandy announced, and she went inside the house, leaving Charlotte alone with Becker.

"Thank you again for making all of this possible," Charlotte started, intending to follow it up with the offer to drag some of the boxes down the steps so he could examine the contents. "And thanks for allowing me to buy some of the furniture. I'm keeping most of the beds."

She would replace the mattresses and bedding. But the bed frames themselves were sturdy antiques that she hoped would give the rooms a homey feel, especially once all the walls had fresh coats of paint and the rooms had thorough cleanings.

"If you're still on board, I'll donate the furniture in the living areas," she went on. She'd already ordered sofas, chairs and such that were scheduled to be delivered as soon as the painting was finished.

"Your engagement's a big-assed fake, isn't it?" Becker said, mentally stopping her in her tracks.

She automatically glanced down at the bare spot on her ring finger. "Yes," she admitted, hoping that wasn't the wrong response. "And I'm sorry about the lie. How did you find out?"

"People yapping outside my door. Hard not to hear some of what they're saying." He shook his head in disgust. "Depending on who's doing the yapping, you're going after Donnelly for real because of your former beau crushing your heart or something. Other yappers claim that every bit of your lovey-dovey stuff is bullshit."

Charlotte refrained from saying Not every bit . Yes, the engagement itself hadn't been real, but the heat between Cal and her certainly was. Whether or not that would lead to anything lovey-dovey, she still didn't know. Cal was being awfully sensible in keeping his distance, and in her case, his absence certainly wasn't creating an out of sight, out of mind scenario.

"What about your real fella?" Becker went on. "Taggert's boy Noah," he spelled out. "I'm guessing you didn't tell me you were engaged to him since he's got a smart mouth on him, and you knew I wouldn't approve."

Charlotte wasn't aware of any specific incident between Becker and Noah, but then again, almost everyone in town had had some kind of run-in with Becker. Everyone except her and Cal. However, she quickly added one more name to the list when she saw Maybell drive up. Becker clearly saw her as well, and the man sat up straighter in his wheelchair. He even ran his hand through his hair as if to make sure it wasn't standing on end.

So that's the way it was. Becker had a thing for Maybell. Charlotte didn't point out that over the years, plenty of other men had as well, and that one by one, Maybell had shut down all of those men. She apparently enjoyed her single status and had no plans to change it.

"Charlotte," Maybell greeted as she stepped out of the truck. "Mr. Becker," she added, and he muttered a greeting back to her. One that was missing his usual crotchetiness.

Just as Cal had done earlier with the wheelchair, Maybell hauled something out of the back of her truck. A wooden sign, Charlotte realized, and when she also realized it was heavy, she hurried to the woman to help. Maybell, however, waved her off, probably because she was more than capable of carrying pretty much anything. Her sturdy Viking build was a serious contrast to Becker's bony one.

"Effie and I had this made for you," Maybell said, holding up the sign. Port in a Storm had been painted in matte gold on the pale ash wood.

"It's perfect," Charlotte assured her. "Thank you."

"You're a whole lot of welcome. We figured you'd want something more personalized for later, but we thought this would do for now." Putting her hands on her hips, she glanced around. "You got plenty going on. I'm guessing Cal's helping?" she asked as Cal came out of the barn.

Maybell glanced at the now bare spot on her finger where there should have been an engagement ring, and even though she didn't come out and ask, Charlotte knew what she wanted to know.

"Mr. Becker knows the engagement is fake," Charlotte spelled out.

"Fake sometimes doesn't feel so fake, I'll bet," Maybell muttered, causing Charlotte to look at the woman. And what she saw was Maybell volleying glances at Cal and her.

Crud.

The heat was there again. A smoldering look from Cal. Then again, maybe he wasn't capable of being anything but smoldering. Charlotte was certain her own expression was filled with lots of lust and longing.

And Maybell clearly saw all of it.

Since Charlotte was positive neither Cal nor she wanted any matchmaking nudges, she tried to readjust her expression and redirected the moment by asking a nonheated question.

"Is everything okay enough in the barn?" she wanted to know.

Cal made a so-so motion with his hand. "There is a lot of swearing going on."

"Like we said," Charlotte remarked. "Anything I can do to help with that?"

"Not you specifically," he said as he continued walking toward Charlotte. He nodded a greeting to Maybell. "But I'm supposed to go up to the third floor where Darrin McKenzie is working on a toilet and have him go to the barn and help his dad with something. His dad's tried to text him, but Darrin's phone might be dead or something."

Darrin was indeed on the third floor. Or rather that's where Charlotte had last seen him. "I'll be right back," she said to Maybell and Becker, and she wasn't sure if she should be surprised or not when Cal followed her in. However, she was glad he did.

"The place is a mess right now," she muttered, stepping around some boxes. She heard Mandy in one of the downstairs bedrooms where she was no doubt doing more packing. "But soon, it'll come together."

Cal nodded. "It's a big place."

"It is, and it's one of the main reasons I wanted it." She took him through the living room and kitchen, giving him an unofficial tour. "There are two living areas, a library and two bedrooms on this level. Four bedrooms on the second and four more on the third. I'll save these two lower ones for Alden and Harper, but the plan is to put in an elevator so that all three floors will be accessible to anyone."

Cal continued to glance around as they made their way up the first flight of stairs. He tested the newel posts, which stayed firmly in place, and ran his hand over the whitewashed shiplap walls.

"Becker's kept it in surprisingly good shape," she remarked, and paused again on the second-floor landing. She could hear work going on here as well as in the bathrooms. "All four bedrooms here have nice views of the ranch, and I'll use one of them as a combination sitting-and-rec room."

They moved on and stopped again on the third-floor landing. "Darrin?" she called out.

A moment later, the young man with curly red hair stuck his head out from one of the bathroom doors. "Yeah?"

"Your dad needs your help in the barn," Cal relayed.

Darrin crammed what appeared to be a handful of gummy worms into his mouth so Charlotte wasn't sure what he said when he walked past them and barreled down the stairs with all the energy of an oversugared preschooler.

With the message delivered and Darrin gone, Charlotte should have probably considered ending the impromptu tour of the place, but she wanted to show Cal one more thing, so she motioned for him to follow her to the third floor hall.

"The bedrooms here are much like the ones on the lower levels, but there's an addition up here." She glanced back over her shoulder at Cal. "Any idea why the Beckers would build such a big place?"

"Probably for the same reason my ancestors built Saddlebrook. That whole notion that bigger is better." He stopped in the hall, his attention shifting to yet another staircase. A spiral one that coiled straight up into the attic.

"I'm not sure whose room this was," she explained. "But the moment I saw it, I knew I wanted it to be mine."

"You're going to live here?" he asked.

"That wasn't the plan until I saw the room, and it changed my mind. I'll sell my house in town and move here." Which wouldn't please her mother, but that was a battle for a different day.

"Wow," Cal muttered when he reached the top of the stairs and stepped out into the huge open room that had once been the attic.

Emphasis on huge .

It covered a good portion of the entire width and length of the house. But that wasn't why Charlotte wanted it. She twirled around, pointing at the windows that were seemingly everywhere. Added to that, there were skylights.

"I came up here last night," she said, "and the view was amazing. Stars galore. And I think the lights I saw in the distance over there were Saddlebrook."

She took hold of his hand and led him to the window that looked out over a vast stretch of pasture. It didn't look so weedy and unkept from up here.

"Yeah, that's the direction of Saddlebrook," he confirmed. "You can't actually see the house, but you'd be able to see the lights. Same for me. My bedroom faces this place."

Charlotte had no idea why that felt romantic, she and Cal looking at each other's lights, but it seemed like something people in an old-fashioned courtship would do. Ironic since there was nothing old-fashioned going on with Cal and her. There was no courtship, either. But there was something that she figured neither one of them wanted to voice.

She did anyway.

"I've been trying not to call or text you," she said. "To give you time to deal with, well, everything. How are you dealing, by the way?"

"Minute by minute," he admitted. "Which is really sort of a weird expression, since it's how everyone has to live their lives." He paused, stared at the window. "Things are so unsettled now, and all that unsettling hasn't stopped me from wanting to call and text you as well."

She smiled. Not the brightest reaction she should have had, but she was quickly losing the battle in this "resist Cal" campaign. Added to that, she was having a hard time recalling exactly why resisting was necessary. That fuzzy recollection had her moving closer to him. She wasn't the only one doing it, either. Cal was leaning in as well, and while she could tell he was still fighting it, he apparently lost that battle.

He brushed his mouth over hers.

And there it was. That slam of heat. That jolt of pure pleasure. All that from something that barely qualified as a kiss.

It occurred to her, though, that it was their first real kiss. The others had been for show, an embellishment for the fake engagement. But there was nothing fake about this. Ditto for the real-deal stuff when Cal slipped his arm around her waist and eased her to him. No hurrying. He was clearly giving her, and maybe himself, the chance to rethink this.

Rethinking failed, however.

A big-time failure.

Because any and all resistance dissolved. So did the slow rethinking of this pace. It was as if something snapped, and they launched themselves at each other. This time, it was a whole lot more than a touching of lips. It was a full-on, mouth-to-mouth kiss that caused the heat to skyrocket.

He tasted amazing, like something she'd always longed for but never knew she wanted. Like a thousand desserts all rolled into one. And he was good at this kissing, too. Just the right amount of hunger. Just the right amount of pressure from his body as he pulled her even closer to him. Until they were right against each other. Until the need was firing on all cylinders, causing an urgency to make the kiss hotter. Deeper. Longer.

So that's what they did.

They were kissing each other's lights out when Charlotte heard a slight gasping sound. She was surprised she could hear anything what with her pulse thrumming in her ears, but the gasp had managed to cut through that thrumming.

Cal must have heard it, too, because both of them whirled toward the doorway where Mandy was standing. The open doorway. And she wasn't alone. Nor was she the one who'd made the gasp. Nope, Charlotte was pretty sure the sound had come from the man next to Mandy.

Noah.