Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

TEDDY

I was aware that Charlotte was scrutinizing every move I made. I usually enjoyed these hikes, despite the fact I had to talk to people. I liked sharing my knowledge about trees.

For this group, size was the most important. We hunted until we found the roundest and tallest tree on the field.

“This is it,” Eliza declared as she threw her arms around the tree, then jumped back when the needles pricked her face. I expected her to cry, but instead, she said, “It smells so good.”

“Your house will smell like evergreen until Christmas,” Charlotte gushed.

“You want to do the honors?” I asked Noah.

“Nah. I’m okay with watching from afar.”

“Can I try?” Charlotte asked.

I shrugged when Noah said he didn’t want the honors. “Sure.” I dropped to my knees to show her where to make the cut. “I’ll pull the tree in the opposite direction to make it easier on you. Make sure you press hard.”

“Got it.” Charlotte got into position, and I handed her the saw. I waited for her to get a cut in the bark before I stood and pulled the tree for her.

I heard a lot of grumbling before the tree finally started tipping. I held onto it so it didn’t fall.

Charlotte jumped to her feet. “I did it.”

My lips twitched. “You sure did.”

“I’m like a legit lumberjack.” She danced around.

“Yeah. No. I don’t think that’s what a lumberjack does,” I said, marveling at how cute she looked when she jumped to her feet, her cheeks rosy from the cold, and her eyes wide with pride. “Lumberjacks chop trees into smaller pieces.”

Charlotte looped her hand through my elbow as I dragged the tree behind me. “I’m fairly sure that lumberjacks cut down trees too. Don’t you see those big logging trucks with huge trees on them?”

“You might be right.” I hated to admit she was right, but I’d misspoken. The problem was that she didn’t look like a lumberjack in her puffy jacket and tight jeans tucked into furry boots. Her hair stuck out from her red knit cap.

At the end of the row, I grabbed one of the wheelbarrows we used to transport trees and placed the tree inside.

The Thatchers walked ahead of us, probably eager to get back to their shiny SUV and their house in one of the newer neighborhoods outside of town.

Charlotte kept pace at my side. “Thanks for letting me cut down the tree. I love trying new things.”

“Like what else?” I glanced over at her, interested to know more.

She tapped a finger to her lips. “Hmm. I’ve always wanted to parachute out of a plane.”

I balked at that. “Seriously?”

She tallied them on her fingers. “I’ve tried hang gliding and cliff jumping.”

“I didn’t know you were a thrill seeker.” How had I missed that? I was usually good at evaluating people. It was part of the job. I’d taken Charlotte for a spoiled girl who was used to getting what she wanted. That’s why she was perpetually happy. But instead, she was painting a picture of someone who was looking for something, not taking.

“I wouldn’t call it that. Trying new things gives me a spark of confidence that I can do anything.” She practically skipped at my side, which told me that she was genuinely happy.

“I don’t need to risk my life to build confidence.” I said, my tone a little gruffer than I intended.

Charlotte laughed gesturing wildly in my direction. “That doesn’t work with the whole thing you have going on.”

“What ‘thing’ do I have going on?” I would have placed quotes around the word “thing,” but my hands were on the wheel barrow’s handles.

“You know.”

I raised a brow.

“You’re serious, rule following?—”

“I have to be.” My jaw tightened.

Her forehead creased. “Maybe at work. But at home or with your family?”

My throat tightened. I wished I’d thought to bring water with me.

We’d almost reached the bottom of the hill, and the Thatchers were close to the counter to check out.

Charlotte curled her hand around my elbow again. “I’m just wondering who you’d be if your mother hadn’t died. Would you be the same guy or someone a little more?—”

“A little more what?” I barked.

Charlotte dropped her hand and stepped away from me. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wonder if you’d be more relaxed, willing to have fun.”

My gut swirled with emotions I didn’t want to acknowledge. “I can have fun. ”

Charlotte smiled, and her dimple popped.

“I don’t think it’s fun to hang glide or jump out of planes.” I racked my brain for evidence that I was capable of having fun, but I wasn’t having much success. I worked, I helped out on the farm, I checked on my family, especially my father, and now, I monitored the renovations on my home. When was the last time I had fun?

Noah handed the tag to Kimberly at the counter, and she rung him up. I waited with Charlotte while they checked out, then pushed the tree toward the bailer, and waited for the Thatchers to pull up their SUV. It was large and black, and I was surprised he was okay with the tree on top. It would most likely get more than a few scratches from the needles.

“You think the Thatchers will be back?” I asked Charlotte, eager to know about her analysis.

“That’s a tough one. They didn’t participate in any aspect of the experience. It’s easier for them to get an artificial one, which they probably already own, or buy one from the cut lot. Gina said Noah is usually too busy at work to do these family things, which is sad.” Charlotte pursed her lips as if it was upsetting to her.

I found every emotion that flitted across her face fascinating because I thought she was only capable of a false happiness. But the more time I spent with her, the more I realized it wasn’t fake. She felt an array of emotions that she wasn’t afraid to feel or express.

That was foreign to me. I’d been numb ever since my mother died, and I felt like I had to be the man of the house. Dad had been falling apart, and my siblings needed me. Even though Fiona was the oldest, she’d been in college and didn’t return. I was the one who’d transferred to be closer to home.

“That was fun. Should we help someone else?” Charlotte looked around for another family that appeared ready to venture into the fields. She zeroed in on one that had two kids. “Let’s talk to them.”

Normally, I wouldn’t feel excited about this part of my job. It was just something I did. But Charlotte saw it as helping people and making their holidays special.

This time Charlotte approached the family, her hand held out. “I’m Charlotte, and this is Teddy. We work on the farm. Were you looking to hike to one of the fields today?”

“We are, and we have no idea what we’re doing,” the woman said with a pointed look at her husband, whose cheeks were pink.

“We can help,” Charlotte said as she led the way, asking for the kids’ names, which were Payton and Landon. “What kind of tree were you looking for?”

“A green one,” one of the smart-aleck kids said.

“We have blue ones too, so that helps me narrow it down,” Charlotte said seriously, and the boy looked a little taken aback. He hadn’t expected there to be different color trees.

When we reached the nearest field open for cutting, Charlotte went through the various types of trees and their positive attributes.

My chest filled with pride that she’d remembered what I’d taught her. The family picked a Douglas fir which was smaller and less expensive.

This time, Charlotte told the husband how to cut down the tree, and he did it himself. I felt like I was just along to haul the tree away, but that was fine. I had a feeling families probably preferred Charlotte’s company to mine.

I wasn’t one to chat with a family, asking about their holiday plans. But Charlotte was right at home, seemingly happy to get to know these strangers.

By the time we made it back to the barn and saw the family off, the sun was setting.

“You can head home if you want. ”

“If you don’t mind? I’d love to jot down my notes and analyze the data I collected.”

She hadn’t struck me as a data girl before, but then again, I hadn’t known her. I’d made assumptions about the type of person she was. But she was so much more than I thought. “You don’t want to relax?”

“Oh, sure, but my brain is overflowing with ideas, and if I don’t write them down, they might disappear forever.”

“I’d love to hear your ideas.” Why had I said that? My job was to make things difficult for her, push her to move on to some other unsuspecting business. Not encourage her to stay.

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“I’m interested in what you figured out.”

“Let me take a bath and make some dinner. If you come around seven, I’ll have something for you to eat.”

“You don’t have to feed me.”

Charlotte touched my arm. “Of course I do.”

I’d noticed that Charlotte always invited me in for a meal. Was that manners that had been instilled in her, or did she genuinely want to spend time with me?

Then she wandered toward her car that she’d parked at the barn. I should walk her, but I couldn’t seem to make my feet move. Why had I invited myself over to her house? I had no business spending more time with her than I had to.

Unfortunately, I was starting to enjoy it. But I had to remember I didn’t know her. Not really. Dad said she was hiding from something. I could tell myself I was doing this to find out what, but it was more than that.

Wes appeared at my side. “You have a good time with Charlotte?”

I swallowed down my initial answer which was yes. When had I ever had a good time with a woman? The fact was that I didn’t go on dates or spend time with them outside the bar or the bedroom. “She did a good job. Remembered everything I taught her about the trees and even cut one down.”

I stalked toward the bailer to make sure things were running smoothly. I couldn’t rest unless I oversaw the operations.

Wes followed me. “I heard she was holding up the line in the parking lot this morning.”

I stopped near the bailer, the sound making conversation difficult. I waited for the tree to be wrapped, then said, “I moved her off parking attendant and let her interview people as they were getting out of their vehicles.”

Wes raised a brow. “I would have thought you’d tell her she should be working, not talking to people.”

“She was collecting information on the customers so she could tailor her marketing efforts.”

“Wow.” Wes rocked back on his heels.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I looked away from the activity so I could scrutinize his expression. He was genuinely surprised.

“I just didn’t think you’d go along with it.”

My jaw tightened. “Dad wants me to work with her.”

“Since when does that mean you’ll do it?” Wes asked.

I felt his gaze on the side of my face. “I’m impressed with what she’s doing so far. I don’t like her ideas, but she’s gathering useful information.”

“She still want you to dress up as Santa?” Wes asked.

“Yes,” I said stiffly.

“You didn’t agree, did you?”

I moved away, done with this conversation. I wanted to shower before I showed up at Charlotte’s place for dinner.

Wes hurried to keep up with me. “You agreed to dress up for Santa photos?”

“Did I have a choice?” I could blame this on my dad, but I still could have said no. Charlotte had me agreeing to do things I wouldn’t ordinarily do. I should think about why that was, but I didn’t want to.

“You always have a choice. Isn’t that what you tell the juvenile delinquents you take in?”

My jaw hurt. “I want Dad to be happy.”

“Sure, you do.”

I stopped and swung my gaze in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You work so hard because you feel like it’s what you have to do.”

“Yeah, for Dad.”

“I’m not so sure that’s true. You have some set of rules in your head that you have to follow, but I think it’s internal. It isn’t coming from anyone else.”

I waved a dismissive hand. “What are you talking about?”

Wes crossed his arms over his chest. “You blame it on Dad or the department. But your impossibly high set of expectations is yours. You can change them at any time. You don’t have to work at the farm all the time or oversee the employees. We can chip in.”

“You know I have to be the one to do it,” I felt a little out of control, as if someone had tipped me off the edge of a cliff and I was flailing.

Wes raised one cocky brow. “Do you?”

With a disgruntled roar, I stalked toward my truck. Thankfully, Wes didn’t follow me. I didn’t feel good about our conversation.

I stretched the kinks out of my neck as I backed out and headed toward my garage apartment. I missed my house. I wanted to get off the farm and be alone in my house. But I was stuck here for a while longer.

I’d been so busy with Charlotte; I hadn’t even checked in on the house progress in a few days. At home, I jumped in the shower, then found clean jeans, and a long-sleeve Henley to wear. I wasn’t trying to look nice. This wasn’t a date. Then why did I feel like I’d drank a gallon of caffeine?

Why was I wondering what I should bring, since she was cooking me dinner? I hadn’t had anyone make me dinner outside of family. I always saw it as an expression of love, which wasn’t what this was.

This was a coworker making dinner so we wouldn’t be hungry while we discussed marketing strategy. I hadn’t told Wes about our plans because it was more than just work. It felt like a whole hell of a lot more.

I was attracted to Charlotte. She drove me crazy, yet I wanted to kiss her. It was confusing as hell. Not to mention irritating. I normally didn’t feel agitated when I went to see a woman.

It was a release. A way to break up the monotony of my life. I didn’t want to get to know them. Or why they smiled.

Before seven, I walked toward Charlotte’s cottage. It wasn’t far from my apartment, and I didn’t need to advertise that I was spending time at her house. Not that my family ever came down this road.

There was no reason for them to, but I wasn’t going to give Wes more of a reason to give me shit.

I didn’t know what was going on and I didn’t need my family questioning it. Especially when I didn’t have answers.

I knocked on the door, and Charlotte answered barefoot in a short, flowy skirt that showcased her legs, and a blue T-shirt that shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was tantalizingly low. The globes of her breasts were visible, and I was fighting a losing battle to keep my gaze trained on her face.

When my gaze dropped, I noticed that her toenails were painted a pale pink. It was romantic and sweet. I would have expected Charlotte to wear a louder color, like hot pink.

“You want to come in?” Charlotte asked, confusion filtering into her voice .

I’d been standing for too long on the porch, not saying anything. When had I ever been struck dumb by a woman? “Of course.”

I stepped inside and waited for her to close and lock the door. I couldn’t erase the police officer from my brain if I wanted to. Then I followed her into the kitchen, which gave me a lovely view of her hips swaying from side to side. I wondered if she wore panties underneath the skirt, and whether they were providing any coverage, or she was wearing a thong.

I hoped for the thong or maybe even nothing at all.

Charlotte turned abruptly, her hair flying over one shoulder. “Do you like tacos?”

“I love them,” I said without thinking, but I might have been talking about her ass or even her breasts, which were bouncing from her movement.

Charlotte’s lips twitched as she placed taco shells on a plate and filled them with meat. Then she slid them over to me to add the toppings. Blindly, I added cheese, peppers, lettuce, and tomatoes. Then I took one large bite, then two. One taco down.

Charlotte stood there watching me. “I thought we’d eat at the table.”

I chewed then swallowed, grabbing the first glass of liquid I could find and downing it. It was sweet yet full of alcohol.

“That was a margarita. I wasn’t sure if you’d want one.”

“I walked.” And I didn’t ordinarily drink margaritas, but it was good. “It’s good.”

“Um, thanks,” Charlotte said as if she wasn’t sure who I was.

I could relate to her confusion. I was acting so out of character; I felt like I was flying without a safety net. Charlotte handed me another shell, and I quickly loaded it up and followed her to the small two-person table. I made sure to grab the drink because it was tasty.

“I didn’t think you’d be a margarita guy.”

“I’m not. But it’s surprisingly good.” I took another large bite of taco, wondering if she had enough to fill my stomach. I was starving after working all day on the farm.

Charlotte beamed. “I’m glad you like it.”

I finished my second taco. “I felt weird coming without bringing anything. But I didn’t have any wine or flowers.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Oh, that wasn’t necessary.”

Because this wasn’t a date. “My mom raised me to be a gentleman.”

“That’s sweet.”

I saw the confusion swirling in her gaze because I was a grumpy asshole most of the time. “Not that I take women out.”

She raised a brow. “You don’t?”

We were in dangerous territory, and my heart rate had kicked up. “I don’t have time for that.”

She tipped her head to the side, considering me. “You never date?”

“Maybe in college before Mom died. Not after. I had my siblings to take care of, the farm, my dad. Then I was working.”

“You take those responsibilities seriously. That’s commendable.” Charlotte held one shell in her hands delicately.

“It makes a social life difficult.” I rarely had free time, and when I did, I liked to relax on my couch. Not spend time getting to know a woman who’d decide I couldn’t give her what she needed.