Steal My Magnolia (Love at First Sight Book 3)

by Smartypants Romance

  The abrupt end of the conversation had my head spinning a bit, but I guess normal people took time before jumping into the 'tell me all your thoughts' portion of a workplace relationship.

  "Uhh, yeah. In that middle drawer. I think."

  Again, she laughed as she took a seat at the desk chair and opened the drawer. Instead of the box cutter, she pulled out a butterscotch candy. "Now ... this is not what I expected to find."

  My face went warm. "Yeah, I keep those everywhere. They're my favorite."

  "That cannot be true," she said. "These are no one’s favorite. They're the candy you grumble about when you go trick-or-treating as a kid."

  I leaned over and snatched one. "Unless you're me and have excellent taste." Unwrapping the candy, I popped it in my mouth and hummed happily. "Help yourself."

  She shook her head and pulled out the box cutter. "That's quite all right, thank you."

  "How do you want to do this, oh mistress of the spreadsheets?"

  Her face lit with a pleased smile, and if I hadn't been so enamored with the change it brought to her already beautiful face, then maybe I'd have reacted quicker when she tossed the box cutter in my direction. Instead, I was staring at her like a goon, so I didn't even attempt to catch it. The box cutter hit me square in the middle of my chest and clattered to the floor.

  I stared down at it. "Right."

  Lia covered her laughter with a conspicuous cough. "You open, I'll enter it in, and for now, just label the box with what it is so we can figure out a shelving configuration once I know what we're dealing with."

  My thumb pushed the razor out on the top of the cutter, and I sliced open the first box. "Just shelves? I wasn't sure if you'd want racks for shirts or anything."

  She flipped open a MacBook and typed efficiently, then she pulled out a Bluetooth mouse from her bag and clicked a few times. I may have left my tech job behind, but if watching her maneuver through software was not the sexiest fucking thing I'd ever seen, I didn't know what was.

  She was like a flower, blooming bright and pretty, in the middle of the concrete-colored office space, sitting at a drab desk and chair, on top of drab floors. Almost like I'd picked everything about this boring space simply to highlight how beautiful she was.

  "I don't think we'll want racks," she said, eyes still on her screen. "If customers get apparel, it'd be nice to have it still in the wrapping so they know it's clean and unused." She glanced at me. "But we don’t need to talk about that yet because I'm still trying to figure out where you'll be getting those corporate clients."

  "Yes, ma'am." I grinned and tore into the first box, then started listing off what I had. "Four medium long-sleeve windbreakers. Four large, four extra-large."

  She tsked her tongue as she typed that in. "Now what do you need all those windbreakers for, Grady Buchanan?"

  "I love that southern tongue cluck." I kept the piles neat, and then read off the next few items in the box. "I’ve got big plans, Lia. I know it probably doesn't seem like it now."

  Her eyes flicked to mine over the top of the computer. "Let's hear 'em."

  "Two pairs of men's hiking boots, size ten," I told her, flattening the first box and tossing it behind me. "When I was still in LA, we used to do these awful team-building days. They were cheesy and expensive for the company to put together, and figuring out the logistics was always a pain in the ass for the person in charge. Trust falls and 'stand in a circle and let's share your feelings.' Wouldn't you rather call a company that can pick up your employees from work, and you can spend the day out in the fresh air and sunshine, learning about the outdoors, and learn from each other how to navigate the wilderness? Maybe it's a daylong hike. Maybe it's a camping trip for a couple of nights."

  She was quiet, and her fingers had temporarily paused their fast-paced tapping.

  "It's a good idea," she said after another moment. "Takes time to build up regular clients, though."

  "It does," I agreed. "Two pairs of women's hiking boots, size seven, and two in size eight."

  After adding those, she got up from the desk to pick up the newly flattened boxes I'd been tossing to the side, sliding them between the wall and the desk where they'd be out of the way.

  My grin couldn't be helped.

  She picked her way through the boxes, back to her seat at the desk. "There's not much of a tourism industry in Green Valley. People who come here are visiting a friend or visiting family. Maybe driving through and stopping for lunch at Daisy's on their way to Gatlinburg or Knoxville or Nashville."

  "There's so much good hiking and fishing," I said. "People should visit here."

  "Not much in the way of lodging to build up that kind of business. You've got to have cabins like Gatlinburg, hotels, that sort of thing. Green Valley is an accidental stop if you catch it on the way to your destination."

  "Maybe that's why my ads haven't done much," I heard myself say. "I thought it would be easier to get bookings at first, get some cash flow while I built up corporate clients."

  "People who live here," she said quietly, leaning back in the chair as she watched me unpack some more boots, "they don't need anyone to tell them what hikes are good and what aren't, nobody to point out trees and flowers. But people renting all those cabins in Gatlinburg should hear why they can take a day trip out to a small town, do some beautiful hiking, eat some delicious, locally made food from Donner Bakery, and get a break from the tourist traps that overflow with people every year. Breathe in the mountain air away from the crowds while on your favorite hikes because the love you have for all that space you were missing, that's what'll make them talk about it when they go back home to the concrete prison you left behind."

  As she spoke, my hands slowed their movements, and I found myself relaxing with each word that came out of her mouth. I wanted to hear her voice every single day for the rest of my life.

  Something elemental happened in my body when I listened to her. A poet, I wasn't. Nor had I ever considered myself a romantic. But as I watched her lips, full and soft-looking, form each word, I felt soothed. Comforted. A hand running down the back of my neck and calming anything tense that was being held in my muscles.

  "Tell me about your favorite place," I said. "Where would you take people so they could talk about it when they left?"

  Her face gave away surprise at my question. I hadn't even thought before asking it. Probably because it wasn't a 'new boss' kind of question.

  Her eyebrows, those dark, graceful arcs over her expressive eyes, bent in for a moment. "Oh, I don't think it would interest anyone all that much."

  I kept my answer simple, because really ..., that's all I could do at that point. I was as much of a stranger to her as she was to me, and I wanted that to change. With one question, one answer at a time, we'd get to know each other.

  So, I told her the truth. "I'm interested."

  Her eyes locked onto mine when I said it, and for a millisecond, I saw the question buried there.

  "My home," she answered with a shy smile. "It's my favorite place in the world."

  "Why?"

  She didn't answer right away, and I unpacked another box while she typed in the contents.

  "It's one of the few spaces that's mine," she said. "The yard isn't big, but I have some flowers that I've managed to grow. And I don't have to try to please anyone else with what's inside those walls."

  Resting an arm on my bent knee, I leaned my head against the concrete pillar and listened to her answer. I wanted to ask all about it but curbed that impulse. Just barely. "How long have you lived there?"

  She smiled. "Five years." Her eyes flicked to the next box, and I took the hint, opening it slowly before telling her what was inside. "Where are you staying since you got here?" she asked.

  "Not a place that's my own," I said with a dry smile. "My aunt and uncle have a converted garage apartment on their property. It's small, but it does the trick. And it's hard to argue with a rent-free bed."

  "They're good p
eople," she murmured. "Fran and Robert are. Your daddy too."

  While she typed, I was able to watch her facial expressions. "It's so odd to me how everyone knows everyone."

  She paused, giving a meaningful lift to her eyebrows. "Small town."

  I laughed, sliding the next flattened box onto the pile she started.

  "You'll get used to it," she promised.

  "Will I?"

  "Eventually."

  "How well do you know my pops?" I asked. Maybe I could ask him about her.

  "Not all that well." Her smile dimmed, just a touch. "I think you've asked me more questions just now than you did in the entire interview, Grady."

  I laughed easily. "I wasn't ready for you yesterday, that's for sure."

  Again, it was the truth. She just didn't know exactly what truth that was.

  Chapter 7

  Magnolia

  I wasn't wrong often when it came to strategic business patronage within the city limits.

  The reason I decided to get coffees for Grady and me at Donner Bakery was because I knew the likelihood of running into some of my extended family members were much higher out at Daisy's, given that my aunt owned it. My uncle ate there for breakfast every single morning, and he was just the first on a huge list of possible suspects who'd hound me about Daddy the second they saw me.

  But my choice of location hadn't made much difference. The whispers inside Donner Bakery started the moment I walked through the doors.

  My smile turned on, polite and sweet and you just whisper your hearts out because I'm not bothered in the slightest.

  "Connie," I said as I passed the first table. "How's that grandbaby doing?"

  "Just fine, Miss MacIntyre," she answered. Her eyes looked me up and down, searching for ... flaws? Who knew? Maybe a blinking sign that’d explain why I quit working for my daddy because if that wasn’t what they were whispering about, I'd eat my favorite pink leather Marc Jacobs purse. "I saw your daddy at the Eager Beaver." She clucked her tongue. "He feeling all right?"

  I laid my hand on her shoulder. That color of red really did nothing for her complexion. "Aren't you sweet for asking? He's as healthy as a horse."

  She hummed. "I'm so glad to hear it. I thought maybe he'd been ill. He just looked so exhausted. Like he hadn't slept in days."

  This time when I smiled, I imagined what it would feel like to rip that fake hairclip off her head because we all knew she'd been wearing it since 2005. Connie took the saying "the higher the hair, the closer to God" a bit too literally if you asked me.

  "I'll be sure to let him know you were worried."

  Her blue eyes searched my face. "You do that. Nice seeing you, Magnolia."

  I wiggled my fingers at her daughter, who gave me a pained, uncomfortable smile in return. Yes, your mother was a passive-aggressive busybody, and I'd be embarrassed if I were you too.

  Only a southern woman could convey all that in a finger wave.

  I stepped into line and took a deep breath. My daddy had avoided the office the past two days that I'd stopped in to work with Marcia. Bless her, she hadn't asked me any questions about why I was doing what I was doing, just patted my back and listened carefully while we went over some things. The two weeks I'd given him wouldn't even be necessary for my transition out because half of what I went over with Marcia, she already knew.

  Managing the allocation of the funds that went back into city improvements and events was the only piece she’d never dealt with, so we spent the most time on it. And while I'd kept my head down at the office with Marcia, all of Green Valley had been whispering my name.

  If anyone knew I was working with Grady Buchanan at the newly minted Valley Adventures, they hadn't shown up at the office to gawk. As I waited in line to grab some coffee and a few treats for the two of us, I found myself excited to get back to the boring gray office.

  He'd mentioned offhandedly that we should paint the place, and I loved the idea that this new venture could bear my stamp. It was easy to envision masculine colors on the walls to match the logo he'd had drawn up.

  A table and some comfortable chairs up by the window where customers could sit and chat if they stopped by to book something. Hardcover books about Tennessee wildlife lining a bookshelf next to it. Maybe even a mural in blue and green tones with the majestic profile of the Smokies to cover our walls.

  The last time I'd been able to daydream about anything like this was probably back in high school, and I wanted to snatch the feeling to my chest and protect it.

  I was still smiling happily when it was my turn at the counter. Joy smiled brightly in return. "Magnolia, you look like you brought the sunshine in all by yourself today."

  "Thank you, Joy," I said. I touched a hand to my yellow cardigan, probably my favorite article of clothing. "Would you believe my Mawmaw Boone crocheted this back in the seventies?"

  She shook her head. "It looks brand new."

  "She made it for my momma when she was high school," I told her with a smile, "but my momma never wore it on account it was too easy to get a fishing hook snagged on the design, so it sat in her closet until I found it three years ago."

  "Well"—Joy sighed—"it makes you look like spring itself." Her smile brightened again. "What can I get for you this morning?"

  I leaned over to look at the case, unsure of what Grady might like. Then again, he was a man. And the way he towered over me with all that lean, lanky muscle, he could probably eat half the baked goods in here and not gain an ounce. "Why don't you bag up a couple of those wild blueberry muffins, and I'll take two medium coffees. One black and one with a splash of cream and two sugars, please."

  Her eyes gleamed speculatively at my order, but Joy was too sweet and too polite to ask who I was buying for.

  Maxine Barton had no such filter, unfortunately. She pushed her walker up next to me and watched Joy work over the rim of her glasses. "Two coffees, eh? You trying to smooth things over with your daddy, or is that for someone else?"

  "Maxine, you never did master the art of subtlety, did you?" I asked good-naturedly. Unlike Connie, who was still watching me like a hawk, Maxine wasn't prying to be able to spread her newfound information around town. She was just happier knowing everyone's business and keeping it to herself like a pot of treasure she'd stumbled on.

  "Subtlety is about as useless to me as unsweetened tea." She studied my face. "You sure pissed him off, didn't you?"

  When I glanced over my shoulder, every set of eyes I could see was watching our exchange, and I sighed. "Is this what everyone else in town feels like when they've made him mad?"

  "Yup."

  "Wonderful," I said under my breath. She heard me, though, because Maxine Barton had the hearing of a bat.

  "He'll get over it." When Joy approached the counter with my items, Maxine handed her some cash before I could protest. "Let me get this for you, Magnolia."

  "Awfully kind of you." I took the drink holder from Joy and tucked the bag of muffins into my purse. "You certainly didn't have to."

  "Of course I did. First of all, you had the good Christian nature to stay and talk to Connie and not stare at the dead cat hair she wears on her head and calls an updo. Second, standing up to your daddy takes more guts than half this town has, young lady. He might worship the ground you and your momma walk on, but that doesn't mean he doesn't need his head yanked out of his ass on occasion."

  I exhaled a shocked laugh, because on the one hand, I still had to stifle the urge to defend him. I'd defended him my entire life because his first instinct was to steamroll anyone and anything who might stand in Momma's or my way. But on the other hand, having someone recognize my gesture for what it was did something strange to my heart.

  A part of me wanted to earn the respect of people like Maxine. Or their notice, at least, in a way that I'd never had it simply by doing whatever Daddy had planned for me. News of me working for Grady, and the inevitable complications that it would bring with Tucker and Grace, still wasn't common
knowledge. Once it was, the whispers would start for a whole new reason, but I'd be prepared for that.

  "Thank you, Miss Barton." I lifted the coffees. "For these and the compliment. Change isn't always easy, is it?"

  She hummed. "Wait until you're as old as me. Then you won't give two solitary shits what anyone thinks about what you do." She tapped a finger on my arm. "You care right now because you're young, and your family gave you whatever you wanted, and your whole life, everyone has watched what you're going to do next."

  We stepped out of the line so the person behind me could place their order, and I nodded slowly. "They certainly have."

  It was never easy to swallow the bitter pill of someone reminding you that you'd been spoiled rotten. But I had been. By the MacIntyres, by the Boones, and most of all, by my parents in their own way. Momma spoiled me by never interfering, never imposing her will onto me even though we were so different, and because of that, I never had to fight with her on what I wanted. She was forty when I was born and already set in the way she wanted to live her life.

  And Daddy spoiled me by smoothing out any obstacle in my way. Tucker used to tell me that all the time, that I'd have a hard time with reality if it ever intruded, after being raised as a Southern princess in both of those families.

  Maybe reality hadn't quite intruded yet, but I liked to think I was stepping out into it on my own accord. Figuring out what it meant. And if this exchange with Maxine proved anything, it was that I still had a ways to go.

  "You have a good day, Magnolia," she told me. "They'll find someone else to whisper about soon enough."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  The bell on the door jingled happily when I exited onto the street and started toward the office. It was a cloudy day, and the wind zipped right through my cardigan. I shivered when I thought of the coat I'd left in my car. My hair slid into my face because it was down today. I'd washed it last night, deciding to iron it out for the first time since Tucker broke up with me.

  I felt pretty.

  And that was a dangerous sensation as I took light, quick steps toward work and Grady.