“No, no, I’m just... resting here a minute. That cloud up there looks a lot like a bunny, don’t you think?”
Everett reappears then and crouches beside her. “I see Don Knotts,” he says, glancing up.
Charlie doesn’t look at the cloud, much less provide his opinion on what animal or beloved television star it looks like. “This is ridiculous. You’re really going to risk doing lasting damage to yourself because you’re too stubborn to admit I’m right?”
“Look who’s talking. Must I remind you that you’re the one willing todieand get stuck here forever because you don’t want to believe I’m telling you the truth about Everett and the curse?”
“Oh, please. Save it. I don’t have time for this,” he says. “Gilded Creek is a working farm. That means we have to actuallywork.”
“Give me a minute and I’ll get right back to it.”
“No, you will not.” His voice and the way he stands there with his hands at his hips makes it clear he’s made up his mind. But Gretchen can’t give up, cannot let him send her home after less than twenty-four hours. Risk to Charlie aside, that would absolutely murder her pride. Or what’s left of it, considering she’s fairly certain she’s lying within inches of a goat pee puddle.
“I... Okay, I admit I might’ve tweaked my ankle ateensybit during the walk from the house, but it’s fine. It barely hurts. Let me rest here for like, two seconds, and I’ll—”
He gets closer, stopping right where the toes of his boots meet the soles of hers. “Stand up,” he orders.
Thanks to an upbringing that didn’t particularly hold the concept of authority in high regard, usually Gretchen has the immediate urge to defy anyone telling her what to do. But with Charlie,she gets this tingly sensation that spreads from her stomach to her legs.Thenshe has the urge to defy him. So she sits up but stays seated. If she’s going to get kicked off the property, she’s at least going to make him put in some effort to make it happen.
“Can you walk?” he asks.
Everett bounces around them. “Ooh, ooh, say no! Maybe he’ll carry you! Ask for a piggyback ride!”
Getting to loop her arms around this man’s neck, his citrus-and-hay scent stuck in her nose while her entire front bumps against his back with every step, tempts Gretchen in a way that makes her certain it’s a bad idea. Her job is to exploithisweaknesses, not her own. Not that it matters, since he’s about to put her in a cab back to the city anyway. “Yeah, I can walk,” she says to Charlie. Everett grumbles, but she ignores him. “I’m telling you, it’s basically nothing. I swear I can keep working if you would just let me—”
“Stand up,” he repeats, and extends a hand out toward her. She stares at it stupidly for a second, as if she can’t comprehend this thing attached to his arm. The calluses, the faded scar bisecting his life and fate lines, show a hand used to getting its way through strength. This is a hand that makes things happen. Unlike Gretchen’s soft, manicured one, which only lends its support to her mind while it does the bulk of the work. The same mind that stops functioning at peak efficiency around this man, apparently. That’s the only explanation she has for why she lays her palm on his and allows him to pull her to her feet.
She stumbles forward with the motion, unused to standing flamingo-style, and Charlie’s other hand automatically comes to her waist to steady her. His grasp is warm and strong, almost uncomfortable as he digs his fingertips into her side, somehowexpressing punishment more than support. Gretchen’s nerves stand up and take notice of the touch, unsure whether to feel it as pain or pleasure. Before they can decide for sure, Charlie adjusts her until she’s solidly upright and moves to her side.
He grabs her arm and throws it over his shoulder. The physical contact between them is extensive—he has one hand on her wrist and one again at her waist—but it lacks the intensity of a moment ago, when they were face-to-face. Probably because relatively few sexy things could be accomplished in this side-by-side position. Not that Gretchen’s brain is drawing acompleteblank. As soon as they move deeper into the barn, though, she recalls that this is not a positive development and resumes her protest.
“I’m sure it’ll be better in no time. I’ll go rest in the house for like, an hour, maybe? Ice it or whatever. And—”
“No.”
Fuck.How did Gretchen Acorn, someone who hasn’t bungled a job in years, screw this one up? And so quickly! She can’t get sent home, can’t leave without having accomplished what she’s here to do. How will she face her father if her most ambitious attempt to prove her decentness fizzles out so anticlimactically? Turning in his grip, almost falling again, she resists being led toward the early-morning light shining in through the barn’s doorway. “Charlie, wait, it’s... I think it’s actually, yep, all better now! Look, let me show you—” It’s some of the least convincing lying she’s done in her entire life, and she resents this sloppy, panicky desperation that’s spilling out of her.
“I’m not sending you back to DC, if that’s what’s got you in a tizzy,” he says, turning her back around. His voice is softer, gentler than it usually is with her. It’s more like how he talked to thedog, Clyde, yesterday—exasperated but warm. “You’re gonna take it easy for the rest of the day andobserve. Don’t think I’m letting you get out of this deal of ours that easily, Little Miss Fraud.”
To Gretchen’s surprise, when she glances over at Charlie, a closemouthed smile plays on his lips. And, oh my, she almost collapses again, because it’s slightly crooked.
11
Gretchen supposes it was inevitable. Surely, she could not help out around a goat farm for a month and never once encounter a goat. But does it really have to happen right now? She basicallyjustgot here, and she’s limping, and really, she should probably go back to the house and rest—
“All right, Acorn, what’s going on now?” Charlie asks, leaning over the top wooden beam of the fence.
She blinks at him.
“Let me rephrase. I’m on this side of the fence, and you’re still on that side. Even though I told you to follow me. Why?”
“My ankle?” Gretchen tries, already surveying the area for another excuse since she’s sure that one isn’t going to cut it. All she finds around her is a beautiful, peaceful morning. The sun’s still making its way over the low mountains in the distance. The air is crisp. And thin, new blades of grass hint at the verdant season ahead. A truly idyllic place to be murdered by livestock.
Charlie shakes his head. “You’ve been hobbling around, butyou managed fine up until now. Are you...” An astonished chuckle tumbles out of him as he studies her face. “Are you scared or something?”
“Of course I’m notscared.”
One of the goats milling about nearby rears up on its hind legs and shoves its snout through a small opening in the fence. Gretchen squeals as she takes another step backward.
