Page 55 of You Shouldn't Have Come Here

“And Calvin took good care of you?”

“Only second to you.”

He smiled back and glanced over at the boys. “Calvin, you didn’t tell me my favorite patient would be here.” Dr. Reed put an arm around me.

“Damn, Doc. I thought we were close.” Joe dramatically grabbed at his chest.

“Oh, we are... a littletooclose.” Dr. Reed’s eyes widened and then he let out a hefty chuckle.

“Ha ha.” Joe uncapped a beer and handed it to the doc.

Dr. Reed took a swig and his eyes found Betty. “Oh no, what happened to you?”

She shook her head and looked at her blotchy hands. “Bees got me. Not like them at all.”

Dr. Reed gave her a concerned look. “You put something on them?” He was clearly worried about herwell-being, and it went beyond the bee stings.

“Of course,” she said.

He pulled her off to the side and they continued a whispered conversation. The boys bantered back and forth while Charlotte looked on.

I moseyed over to Patsy who was still holding that bottle of wine.

“You look much better than the last time I seen you,” she said.

“Thanks.” I smiled. “Would you like me to open that?”

“Oh yes, please. Dr. Reed picked this up for me.” Her grin widened. “He’s so good to me.”

“He seems to be good to everyone.”

“He takes care of this whole town. Without him, we’d all be dead,” she chuckled.

I gave a small awkward smile and told her I’d be right back.

I spotted a wineglass on the top shelf of one of the cupboards in the kitchen. Standing on my tippy toes, I reached up, barely grasping it with my fingertips. The glass slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a crash, shattering into pieces.

I let out a heavy sigh. “Shit.”

“Don’t you hate when things like that happen in places you don’t belong?” Charlotte’s voice was like a knife being dragged along concrete.

I turned to find her standing with one hand on her hip and a smirk on her face. She was clearly pleased with her comment.

I ignored what she said and asked where the cleaning supplies were.

“I know where everything in this house is,” she said, walking to the fridge and pulling out a broom and dustpan from beside it.

When I extended my hand for them, she shook her head. “I got it. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

I rolled my eyes and tiptoed out of the way, sliding open a drawer in search of a corkscrew. Charlotte acted like the ranch was her territory. But the question was, how far would she go to protect it, and what would she do if she couldn’t?

She pulled one from a drawer I hadn’t yet rummaged through. “Here,” she said, handing it to me.

Charlotte opened the cupboard and grabbed another wineglass, placed it on the counter, and then went back to sweeping.

I brought the glass and corkscrew to the kitchen table to uncork the bottle. My eyes bounced back and forth between Charlotte and the task at hand. I didn’t trust her.

“I’m curious,” she said, pausing her sweeping. “Why would a girl from New York City vacation alone in this blip of a town?”

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