I turned to look at him, aghast. “Where is your food?”
He shrugged. “I don’t cook well. I buy enough food for a week. I usually shop on Saturday afternoons.” He smirked. “Which is now your job, Charly. Get to it.”
I placed a hand on my hip and arched one eyebrow. I held up my phone, showing him the ad he had placed. “Huh. Would ya look at that? The ad said Saturday afternoons and Sundays are free.”
He glowered. God, he was handsome when he did that. It really should be illegal. I shouldn’t enjoy it as much as I did, but there was a little flutter in my chest, regardless.
“It’s either shopping today, or we both go hungry this week. Your choice.”
“Fine.” Then I paused. “How will I pay for the food?”
He snorted. “A, if you think I’m going to hand over the keys and a pile of cash and let you leave, you’re crazier than I think you are. I’m not that stupid, Red—” he paused, flustered, color creeping up on his neck “—I mean, Charly. I’m driving you into town, and I’ll pay for the groceries. And B, I think you lied about being able to drive my truck. I doubt you can even see over the dashboard.”
“I can so,” I protested, even though I wondered if he was right. The thing was massive. “I’ve driven a truck before.”
“Not this one.”
We glared at each other, and I tried not to notice the way his eyes looked in the bright light of the kitchen. Dark and deadly, the small lines around them only emphasizing the sexiness of his stare. If only he wouldn’t ruin the image by talking. But that was impossible.
“It’s your job to make the list, plan whatever you need, and do the cooking.” He glanced at his watch, a chunky silver one that showed off his tanned forearms. I noticed a woven leather strap above the metal and a set of smooth beads. “You have twenty minutes.”
I looked around, spying a cup with some pens. I found an old envelope and began to write. Lists, I excelled at.
“Bring your debit card, buddy. You need a lot of shit.”
He strode from the room. “I have a feeling you are going to enjoy being the person to give me that shit.”
“Gosh dang right, I am,” I called after him, scribbling furiously.
Before we left, Maxx made me get behind the wheel of his truck. He lifted the seat as high as it would go, pushing it forward. I felt like a child behind the steering wheel, but I refused to show him my fear. “It’s fine. I can drive this.”
He laughed, actually sounding amused instead of angry. “You can barely reach the pedals. There is no way you can work the clutch and shift.” He moved the seat back into the position he used. I could barely climb out of the truck, and he didn’t offer to help. I almost fell trying, and with a curse, he caught me, setting me on my feet and shaking his head. “Yep. Good job, Charly. You are never driving this truck.”
I wanted to stamp my feet. “Holy moly, that isn’t fair. You haven’t even let me try. I can learn. Otherwise, I can’t do your errands, and you’ll use it as an excuse to fire me.”
He waved his hand. “We’ll call a draw on this one. I’ll figure out an alternative.” He glanced toward a barn sitting behind the house, rubbing at his scruff, thinking.
“What?” I asked.
“Get in the truck,” he replied, shaking his head.
I crossed to the other side, scrambling in.
“Not exactly graceful there, Charly,” he mocked.
“Yowsers. Running boards would help,” I muttered.
“What did you say?”
“I said running boards would help.” I threw up my hands in frustration. “Look, I can’t help it if I’m only five feet four. Or a girl. I know you hate it, but I’m here. I’m sorry, all right? Your truck was obviously built for a freaking giant. Stop finding things to find fault with. Save your breath. You can’t growl and bitch me out of here, so stop chapping my ass. You’re stuck with me for the next two weeks, so shut up, drive us to the store so I can get groceries and go home to start doing the job you hired me for.” I crossed my arms, staring out the window. The truck was silent, and I wondered if I had said too much. Pushed him too far. Maybe he was going to tell me to go get my suitcase and get out. But I couldn’t waver.
There was an odd sound, almost a begrudging chuckle, then he started the truck. “Fine, Charly. Let’s go get groceries.”
I considered that my first victory.
In the store, Maxx followed me around like a silent shadow. More like a growly grizzly bear at times, but he didn’t say much or protest as I filled the cart, but he made some odd noises. He added a few things that I assumed he liked. I made notes to keep apples, pears, and bananas on hand. He also seemed to like fresh veggies, so the cart was loaded with lots of those. It made up for the horrid “healthy choice” meals his freezer contained. I stocked up on staples, meat, and other items—including the makings of my lemon pie. Maybe that would soften him up a little.