The Merriest Magnolia

by Michelle Major

  But she could still enjoy the moment. His lips soft on hers and the lingering taste of sugar and vanilla from dessert. He held her face as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him. God help her, she wanted that to be true.

  The sound of a soft whine had her pulling away. A glance into the stall showed Daisy sitting up straight, head cocked to one side like she was trying to figure out what she was witnessing. Maybe the dog could help Carrie understand, as well.

  “That can’t happen again.” She pressed two fingers to her lips. It felt as if Dylan had branded her, her skin marked by his touch. She hoped her heart wasn’t, as well.

  “Agreed,” he said, and she noticed that his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.

  At least she wasn’t the only one affected by the kiss.

  “I don’t even like you.” Whether she was reminding him or herself remained unclear.

  “With good reason,” he confirmed. Her heart sank. Of course he wasn’t going to fight her opinion of him. He seemed to revel in their opposing goals and allowing her to think the worst of him.

  “I’m going to go back to the house,” she said. “You and Sam will be here awhile with Meredith.”

  He opened his mouth and for a second she thought he might argue with her. He might ask her to stay. She’d never admit to either of them how much she wanted to be here.

  But he gave a sharp nod and turned his attention back to the dog. A clear message if Carrie’d ever received one.

  She walked back to the house, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing her arms as if to ward off a chill. The temperature outside had only dropped a few degrees but she felt cold all the way to her soul.

  * * *

  DYLAN TURNED THE corner onto his street Sunday morning to see a now familiar red jacket on the front porch of his rental house.

  His heart seemed to skip a beat and Daisy let out a soft whine next to him. “My thoughts exactly,” he told the dog only to have her plop her butt onto the sidewalk at the sound of his voice.

  He tugged on the leash, but the animal didn’t budge. She’d made it farther on the walk this morning than on any of her other outings on the leash. Per Meredith’s instructions, they were going the slow and steady route on Daisy’s training, using treats and positive reinforcement as their main techniques. Pulling a treat from his pocket, Dylan tried to lure the dog forward. Daisy sniffed at the small biscuit but didn’t move.

  “You win again,” he muttered and bent down to scoop the dog into his arms. Daisy didn’t think much of the leash and had trouble settling in the house, but they’d quickly found that she was forty pounds of lap dog. As bizarre as it sounded, she actually seemed to like being carried around and would climb into Sam’s lap whenever he sat on the floor or sneak her way onto a couch or bed at every opportunity. The dog relaxed against him, her snout resting on his shoulder.

  “Is that an official training method?” Carrie asked with a laugh as he approached the house.

  “Yeah. The dog is training me to be her Sherpa.”

  “I’m not sure Meredith would approve.”

  “Then let’s not mention it to her,” he answered with an exaggerated wink.

  Daisy lifted her head to take in Carrie then settled against Dylan more snugly. He cringed when Carrie pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.

  “I couldn’t resist,” she said. “That’s pretty darn adorable.”

  “Pathetic is more like it. I don’t think anyone’s ever called me adorable.”

  “Well, you are when you’re holding Daisy like a baby.” She held up a bag. “I brought a new dog gift.”

  He raised a brow, gratified when color flooded her cheeks.

  “I also want to talk to you about plans for the festival,” she added quickly. “You and Sam weren’t at any of the holiday kick-off events this weekend.”

  “Busy with the dog,” he muttered, the lightness in his chest deflating like an old balloon. He opened the front door to the house and gestured Carrie inside. It was strange to be back in a town where he didn’t worry about locking his door. In Boston his downtown condo had been in a secure building with a doorman and a state-of-the-art alarm system.

  In Magnolia his biggest concern was curious neighbors taking too much interest in his life. Even now, he saw the curtains flutter in Mrs. Grady’s bay window across the street. He could imagine the gossip train firing up that Carrie Reed had stopped by for a visit.

  He followed her into the house and walked over to deposit Daisy on the dog bed he’d placed next to the sofa in the living room. The animal licked his hand like she was saying thank you and his heart melted a little. Dogs had always seemed like a nuisance.

  So had kids and now he had one of each.

  “How is she settling in?” Carrie asked, glancing around the house.

  “The dog is fine. And it came fully furnished,” he told her when her eyes went wide.

  The interior was a mix of traditional antique wood pieces and overstuffed sofas and chairs.

  “Trust me, I’m not here to judge.” She ran a finger along the edge of a porcelain basin that held a bouquet of dusty dried flowers. “It’s taken me months to clean out my father’s house and I still can’t figure out how he managed to accumulate so much. This place is old, but at least you can walk through it without tripping over piles of old magazines.”

  “Your dad became a hoarder?” He led her down the hall and into the small galley kitchen. After washing his hands, Dylan pulled two glasses out of an upper cabinet for water.

  “I don’t like to use that word,” she admitted, “but yes.”

  “Are you selling the house?”

  She shrugged. “Not until the estate is out of probate, but none of us feel emotionally tied to the property.”

  As he handed her the water, she gave him the gift bag. He set it on the counter. “I don’t believe you aren’t attached to that house. It’s the place where you grew up.”

  “And now represents everything that was a lie about my childhood. I’d moved out a few years ago when I needed my own space.”

  “Niall couldn’t have liked that.”

  She smiled but pain shadowed her gaze. “He understood.”

  Dylan wanted to call bull on her words but what was the point? He didn’t need to point out what a jerk her dad had been. She had plenty of examples of that. In the weeks and months after he’d left Magnolia, nursing his broken heart, he’d told himself it was for the best. That Carrie had been a spoiled princess who would never give up her privileged life.

  Even in his angriest moments, he’d known he was just trying to rationalize his decision to walk away.

  “Thanks for the dog-warming gift,” he said, digging through the tissue paper to pull out a chew toy, a Frisbee and a box of gourmet treats.

  “Meredith told me what to buy.”

  “Then thanks to you both.”

  She took a small step closer. “Why didn’t you come this weekend? Don’t tell me it was about the dog. She doesn’t seem that high maintenance.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.” He busied himself with examining the plastic disk but could feel Carrie’s gaze on him. “It’s not a big deal. You know I don’t like the holidays. What would have been the point of me being at a tree lighting or sipping hot cocoa in the town square? I don’t need more people trying to convince me to change the plans for my properties.”

  “But you agreed to help with the festival. This weekend would have shown you its potential. The crowds at the tree lighting were the biggest ever. Everyone had a great time.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Why? Il Rigatone served over two hundred cheesy breadsticks. It’s a great restaurant, Dylan. You need to understand that Magnolia doesn’t need to be burned to the ground and rebuilt from scratch. Yes, the town relied on my father’s reputation and
kowtowed to his whims for too long. But we’re changing that.”

  “I’m going to change things,” he argued, forcing himself not to react to the disappointment in her eyes. “We’re going to put this place on the map.”

  “For all the wrong reasons.”

  “As an upscale destination. How is that wrong?”

  “Because it’s already a great place to live and visit.”

  “How would you know whether it is or not?” he demanded, running a hand through his hair. “You haven’t lived anywhere else. Remember when we had dreams to see the world together? You’ve been stuck here for too long to have any perspective beyond your provincial life.”

  He swallowed back a groan when her breath caught. “I’m not provincial,” she said quietly.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “You no longer have the power to hurt me,” she told him and, once again, his body reacted to her show of strength. He just wished when she took a stand it didn’t have to be against him.

  “Christmas is all about fake community spirit. I’m not interested in selling tourists a false sense of joy. That was Niall’s domain. I deliver real-life dreams.”

  He could almost feel the tension bristling from her. “Then why agree to help with the festival?”

  “The mayor volunteered me.”

  “You know even rich people like Christmas?” She threw up her hands. “It’s not as if you can abolish the season from town.”

  “But I don’t have to buy into all the phony fa-la-la-ing.”

  “It isn’t phony,” she insisted. “The holiday spirit is real, especially in Magnolia. Even Sam can see that.”

  “Don’t bring him into it.” Dylan glanced up at the ceiling. The boy’s bedroom was directly above the kitchen.

  “Sam has agreed to help me,” Carrie reminded him through clenched teeth. “We’re all supposed to work together. It could be good for the two of you. Bring you closer.”

  “I got a dog. I’ve scooped all the poop so far. Isn’t that enough?”

  A chuckle burst from her mouth, surprising them both, and he smiled in response. He loved hearing her laughter, even if it was at his expense.

  “I’ll be at the high school tomorrow afternoon,” she said after a moment. “There are a few other kids from the art department helping with backdrops for the festival. I hope Sam will join us. You should come, too.”

  “You’re really dedicated to this idea of a perfect holiday town.”

  “I’m dedicated to helping Magnolia succeed.”

  “What about your own success?” He heard water running from upstairs and knew Sam would join them shortly. But he needed to press Carrie on this.

  “I get a lot of satisfaction from working for the greater good.”

  “Maybe you haven’t changed as much as I thought,” he said casually.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her sea-green eyes narrowed.

  “Sam told you the paintings I bought now hang in the buildings I own in Boston. They’re good, Carrie. Better than good. But they’re also from a decade ago. What are you painting now?”

  “I’m kind of busy trying to save the town and all that,” she muttered. “I’m still painting. The work is just...”

  “Don’t talk to me about the frivolous art you do during the painting parties. Those are fine for regular people who just want to dabble in art or feel like they’ve created something fun with friends. You have actual talent.”

  She stared at him for a long moment then glanced away, her breath hitching. He knew he’d struck a nerve. She’d always been sensitive about her ability. Another strike against Niall Reed in Dylan’s opinion. What kind of father dismissed his daughter’s talent because he knew it would eclipse his own?

  Parents were supposed to build their kids up, not tear them down. Although he knew there were plenty of parents who did just the opposite. His mom and dad fell into that category. Although they hadn’t so much torn him down as they’d made it clear from the start, he had little to offer and it wasn’t worth trying. When the expectations on a kid were so low as to almost scrape the ground, he got used to clawing his way from the bottom of the pack.

  But Dylan wasn’t the same as Carrie. Yes, he’d gotten out of Magnolia and made a success of himself, thanks in large part to the chance his uncle had given him and the support of his cousin. Anyone could figure out a way to make money. Carrie made the world more beautiful with her paintings. Hell, just with her presence.

  He didn’t care about her holiday festival, but he couldn’t stand to see her continuously putting herself on the back burner in life to take care of others. She’d done it for years with her dad and now this town she loved so much seemed to be her new excuse for not pursuing her dreams.

  “I didn’t come here to discuss my life,” she said, twin spots of color flaming on her cheeks. Yep, he’d struck a nerve.

  “Where’s Daisy?” Sam asked as he padded into the kitchen. “Hey, Carrie.”

  A low bark sounded from the living room.

  “Hi, Sam.” Dylan watched Carrie work to settle her emotions. He had a real talent for bothering her, but part of him didn’t feel bad. Someone needed to push her out of her comfort zone.

  He shook his head, thinking of all the ways he wanted to force Carrie to go after what she truly wanted. Obviously, no chance of that happening since her teeth seemed to be perpetually grinding every time they were together.

  The dog appeared at the doorway to the kitchen. She glanced at Sam with a whine but didn’t move farther into the room.

  “Hey, girl.”

  Dylan’s breath hitched at the love in the boy’s tone. Sam moved forward then dropped to the ground next to her. One weekend with the quirky pup and Sam was smitten.

  “I don’t think she likes me infringing on her territory,” Carrie said quietly. “Sam, I’m looking forward to seeing you after school tomorrow to begin work on the festival backdrops.”

  “Okay,” the boy answered without hesitation. “I’ve been looking online for ideas, so I’ll bring my sketchbook with me.”

  Carrie’s grin seemed to light up the room. Plus, between the dog and his excitement over being involved in Carrie’s silly holiday project, Sam seemed happier than Dylan had seen him since the accident. It was almost too much for Dylan’s stony heart to handle.

  “You don’t have to leave,” Dylan told her, not wanting the moment to end. “Daisy will get used to you. I’m going to make some breakfast and—”

  “I need to go,” she interrupted, her smile fading.

  “Can I take Daisy in the backyard?” Sam asked.

  “Sure,” Dylan murmured absently, studying Carrie, whose gaze had lowered to the floor.

  “Come on, Daisy,” Sam coaxed, beckoning the dog to him. “Your ball is on the patio.”

  The dog flicked a glance toward Carrie and, deeming her not a threat, followed Sam through the kitchen to the door that led to the backyard.

  As soon as the duo had disappeared, Carrie started for the front of the house like she had an urgent need to put some distance between herself and Dylan.

  No doubt she had a lot of smart reasons, but he wasn’t having them. He caught up to her in the hall, whispering her name but forcing himself not to reach for her. The choice to stay had to be hers.

  Suddenly, she whirled and stepped toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck like he was a lifeline.

  A million questions swam through his mind, but he didn’t ask a single one. Instead, he fused his mouth to hers, savoring the taste of her and the heat radiating between them. She kissed him like she was trying to make up for years apart, and although he didn’t understand the reason for it, Dylan was smart enough to go with the moment.

  He hated the weakness it showed in him, but he knew deep in his soul th
at he’d take whatever this woman was willing to give him.

  But as abruptly as the kiss had started, she pulled away.

  “Sorry,” she said, her breath coming out in tiny gasps. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Never apologize for that,” he told her, tracing his thumb across the seam of her lips.

  Her eyes drifted closed for a moment as if she was rebuilding her defenses. “I need to go,” she repeated, then turned and walked out of his house.

  As the door clicked shut behind her, Dylan knew that nothing about returning to Magnolia was going to be as straightforward as he’d imagined.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WEDNESDAY MORNING DYLAN walked by Sunnyside Bakery on his way to the makeshift office he’d set up in one of the empty storefronts he owned in downtown.

  The scent of cinnamon and sugary dough wafted from the cheery shop. He considered taking a risk and walking in for a sticky bun and a coffee. Maybe he’d get lucky and Mary Ellen Winkler wouldn’t be around, and he could sneak in an order and be gone before she had a chance to kick him out again.

  How sad that he was willing to risk his pride for a pastry, but damn did she make the best.

  “Don’t bother,” a voice said behind him.

  He turned to find Carrie’s sister Avery standing on the sidewalk holding a brown bag he could only imagine was filled with the bakery’s delicacies. “Mary Ellen is behind the counter this morning. She’ll boot you to the curb without a second thought.”

  “I wasn’t planning on going in,” he lied. “Her quality has gone way down so it’s not worth it.”

  Avery studied him for a moment then reached in the bag and pulled out a scone. “I’m bringing breakfast to a meeting at the mayor’s office,” she reported. “I ordered extra if you want one.”

  His fingers flexed at his sides as she moved closer. “I mostly eat low-carb anyway,” he told her.

  “It’s blueberry.” Her lips twitched as if she could see his inner turmoil. “Just take the stupid pastry. Not everything has to be a battle.”

  He wished that were true, but life had taught him a different lesson. Still, he took the scone from her with a heartfelt thank-you and bit into it. “How does she make everything so damn good?”