Tucker grimaced. "I noticed. But starting a business is often slow, especially if you want to do it right. No harm in being a little unorganized at first." He jerked his chin over his shoulder toward the law office. "I wish I could help more, but ... we've rebounded our caseload since J.T. pitched his little fit a few months ago. We've got our eyes out for someone who can start taking on some cases, but we haven't found the right person just yet."
My gut tightened at the mention of Magnolia's dad. I'd yet to speak to the man face-to-face, and he loomed so large in my head, like he was a caricature rather than a flesh-and-blood human being.
"I found someone to run the office while you were in California," I told him. "And I'll give you the full story of how this all happened—"
He glanced over at me. "I sense a but coming."
"But," I said slowly, "she's perfect for the job. And I may have missed out on a great employee if I'd known who she was when she came in to interview."
Tucker set his coffee down and shifted sideways so he was facing me head-on. "Now why did I just get nervous?"
I followed his lead and set my own drink down next to the bag from the bakery, but then I stood instead of shifting my back up against the side of the truck. "I hired Magnolia as the office administrator."
Tucker's face went comically blank. "You ... wait, what? Not my Magnolia or"—he shook his head—"you know what I mean."
She's not your fucking anything, I wanted to growl. If she's anyone's Magnolia, she is mine.
Or she would be, if she wanted to be.
I had to swallow down that Neanderthal reaction like it was made of barbed wire, so it took me a few seconds to speak. In general, I was an easygoing guy. Laughing and smiling came as naturally to me as breathing. In my entire life, I'd only felt violent when I thought my sister might get hurt.
And that was nothing compared to what Tucker's innocently spoken words of confusion made me feel.
He was lucky he was still conscious.
Once. He was allowed that kind of misspeak about Magnolia once before I shoved the words back down his throat with my fist. I didn't care who his girlfriend was.
"Magnolia MacIntyre," I said evenly or as evenly as I could manage. "That's correct."
My mouth wouldn't form the words your ex-girlfriend. It couldn't.
Tucker gaped at me. "And you didn't think that'd be ... awkward?"
I set my hands on my hips. "I didn't realize that's who she was at first. She introduced herself as Lia. I hired her thinking that was her name."
"That doesn't sound like her." He rubbed his forehead, suddenly looking exhausted. "The lying or the nickname. She hates nicknames."
I didn't want to learn anything about her from him. I wanted to learn it from her.
Don't act like a crazy, possessive asshole, Grady, that is not an attractive trait in the male species.
I was able to let out a slow breath. "She was worried I wouldn't hire her if I knew who she was."
His eyebrows lifted meaningfully. "Yeah, because it'll be awkward."
"At first." I held his gaze. "I know you didn't part on bad terms."
"We didn't. But not parting on bad terms is a little bit different than seeing each other every day at the office." He sighed. "I'm a little shocked Grace sat on this information for even a single day."
"I think the only reason she did was because you couldn't make dinner last night." I shrugged. "And she was shocked, don't get me wrong, but she trusts me. She knows I don't get stubborn about stupid shit, so if I'm putting my foot down about keeping Magnolia on, it's because I know in my gut it's the right thing to do."
Tucker watched me carefully. "And that's what you're doing? Putting your foot down?”
"Yeah. I am." I softened my voice, but still, my tone brooked no arguments. "I look forward to you taking more responsibilities at Valley Adventures, Tucker, but I still own the majority of this business. I'm telling you now, like this, because you're my friend and I respect the hell out of you. I'm telling you like this because someday, you'll be my brother-in-law. But make no mistake, I am telling you. I'm not asking for your permission. And I hope you can respect that."
In the long, protracted pause that followed my little speech, Tucker studied me in a way he never had before. Suddenly, I felt exposed. Naked. More vulnerable than I liked. What had he heard between the words and letters? The subtext that I'd been trying to hide.
Because it was all there, if anyone had cared to dig deeper.
It wasn't about me owning the business. It wasn't even really about hiring her in the first place.
Left up to me, Magnolia would be around forever.
Left up to me, they'd have to get used to seeing her by my side.
Left up to me ... we'd live, and we'd be happy.
But it wasn't just up to me, no matter what insanity my family believed.
Tucker pulled his gaze from my face and carefully picked up his coffee again. He took a sip, and I could practically feel the weight of his deliberation.
It took him no more than a minute.
"I can respect that," he said quietly. His cup went back down onto the truck, and as he stood from the truck bed, he held out his hand. "She'll get no problems from me."
I took his hand easily. "Thank you."
Tucker grinned. "She must have had a helluva first week on the job."
"Haywood"—I sighed—"you have no idea."
When we finished some small talk, once the heavy conversation was over, I took my time walking back to the office. The coffee I got her was probably lukewarm at best. The tea no better. I'd dropped the baked goods once, and I was quite sure they didn't look as appealing as they had when I purchased them.
But I felt as good as I could remember in a long time as I walked the few blocks from Haywood and Haywood back over toward Valley Adventures.
When I approached, I couldn't help but smile at what I saw through the front window because she'd swapped out the card table and blanket from the other day, bringing in a beautiful oak piece that was stained a deep golden color. On top of it was a vase exploding with bright yellow and orange flowers, a bright sign of the Thanksgiving holiday just around the corner while the air chilled my skin.
Using my elbow, since my hands were full, I pushed the door open and almost dropped everything I was carrying when the sound of a bell heralded my entrance. I looked up slowly, smiling at the small silver object.
Magnolia had her back to me, phone pressed to her ear. A quick smile over her shoulder was all I got for a greeting, but I was oddly relieved because the phone call allowed me a greedy moment to study her.
I'd never paid much attention to what women wore because it had never felt like such an extension of their personality as Magnolia's clothes did. Always bright, always well-put-together, always classy, but with a twist that felt intentional.
I'm a proper Southern belle, but you can't dictate everything I do.
That was what came to my mind when I set the coffee and tea down and smiled at the high-waisted pink pants she was wearing, with a dark green sweater that—I squinted, then had to stifle a laugh—was trimmed with tiny feathered fishing lures. In her hair was a pink scarf holding her dark hair off her face.
"That sounds wonderful," she said, scribbling something onto a pad of paper in her hand. "And I know you've got all those students who need an internship, so you just send 'em on over to us, and we'll help each other out."
She smiled again when she saw the bag from Donner Bakery.
Magnolia clucked her tongue. "Todd, you know your momma was just my favorite at the Junior League. If she knew you were hassling me about this, she'd have your hide." A satisfied grin crossed her face. "Excellent. I'll wait for your email. You have a nice day too."
I hitched a hip onto the desk as she tossed her phone down, sinking into the chair and crossing her long legs.
"What was that?" I asked her.
She finished jotting a note and then looked up at me
. "Todd Cooper over at the University of Knoxville. He's one of the professors in their environmental management department. I knew his momma from the Junior League. Their students need internships before they can look for jobs as park rangers, so I thought we could look into taking one on when we get busier. They get the hours, and we get someone who can help with some of the guided hikes for free."
"That is genius," I murmured. God, I wanted to grab her face and kiss the absolute hell out of her. I wanted to sink to my knees on the floor in front of her and wrap her up in my arms because something about this side of her—the driven, whip-smart personality—was absolutely driving me out of my mind.
"And you'll need that help sooner than you think, Grady." She slid a calendar in my direction.
I picked it up, my eyebrows hiking up on my forehead. "There are five bookings on here."
"I know."
"Five." I held up the calendar. "For the next ten days. Five."
She laughed. "I know. Ginny meant it when she said she was going to tell people when they got back to Gatlinburg."
"You are the best thing that has walked through these doors." Honestly, she was. That was no curse talking, or the fact I wanted to lay my head in her lap and stare up at her, or peel every inch of those clothes off her body and listen to her talk for hours. She just was the best damn thing that had walked through those doors.
Her face was pure amusement, but I could tell my praise made her happy.
"I wish I could take credit." She stood, taking the calendar back and laying it in the spot to the right of her laptop. "But that's all you, boss."
My face twisted up in a grimace. I didn't want her calling me that.
"What?" she said on a laugh.
"Don't call me boss." I shuddered. "I'm just ... Grady."
Magnolia set a hand on her hip. "Okay, just Grady."
"I met your mom yesterday."
Her face smoothed out, and the smile turned more polite, less natural. "Oh? And did you ..." She swallowed. "Did you tell her how we know each other?"
"She seemed to know."
Magnolia deflated a little. "That doesn't surprise me, I suppose. There are only so many—" She caught herself.
"So many people who would hire you, knowing your dad."
She nodded.
"She was nice," I told her. "She loves you a lot, you can tell."
When she adjusted the scarf around her head, it seemed like a nervous gesture she couldn't quite contain. "She does."
"What is it?" I asked gently.
Magnolia's eyes met mine, like she was searching for the words for something and didn't quite know what they were. "I know my momma loves me. But she's ... she's different. She and I are very different. My parents were almost forty when they got pregnant with me, and ... I don't think she ever gave much thought to being a mother. So, when I came along, she loved me. But her love, for a lot of people, means space. Freedom, in her mind."
"Well," I said carefully, "I think the important thing is that you know she does, right? I didn't see my pops a lot growing up because my mom hated Green Valley and never wanted to come back after they divorced. But not seeing him, I could still recognize where he loved and supported us. Where it counted, at least." I took a sip of my coffee. "I think that's where people fall into a trap. They can't recognize love if it's not shown in exactly the way they want it to be shown, and it's just not that simple, you know?"
There was something on her face, something in my words that struck a chord with her, but I also saw the moment she decided the conversation was just a little too much for her.
"I do know," she said, then straightened the hem of her perfectly straight sweater. "I got the email confirmations from the conference in Nashville next week. I wasn't sure you wanted me to come with you until I saw my name on the registration list."
"Is that okay?" Shit. I hadn't even thought she might want to stay back while I went. "I'm sorry, I should've asked first. You don't have to come if you'd rather not."
Magnolia waved that off. "It's fine, I promise. I just ..." She paused. "I wasn't sure how long you planned on being there. If it was a day trip sort of thing, or if you planned on staying overnight."
Right. Traveling with Magnolia, even for one day, made me dread the trip, as much as I looked forward to the possibility of it. But maybe she didn't want to be stuck in a car with me and forced to stick to my own timeline. Maybe she didn't want to stay overnight in Nashville with her boss.
Answer this one wisely, Grady.
"I wouldn't mind doing both days," I said slowly. "Might feel less rushed in talking to people."
She nodded, and I couldn't help but notice that she was avoiding eye contact.
"You are more than welcome to stay back if you don't want to come," I assured her. "I'd love to have you with me—" I paused, trying not to stammer over my words like a freaking dope. "Because you're obviously more well-spoken than I am."
She gave me a long-suffering look. "That's not true."
"You don't trip over things either. I make a horrible first impression, and you can't deny that."
Finally, she smiled, and I felt like I'd won something important. "You were charming," she admitted. "Clumsy, but charming."
I held my fist up in the air, and she laughed.
"Whatever you're comfortable with, Magnolia. All you have to do is tell me, and I'll be fine with it."
"Okay," she said on a loaded exhale. "I'd like to learn. I'd like to meet people too because I know how important that is. I-I'm fine with an overnight trip, if we have the budget for two rooms."
"We do." I held her gaze. "But only if that's what you want to do."
"Grady," she started, then stopped. "I'll just say it because if I were you, I know I wouldn't think about it, and I'd want to know if it was someone working for me."
I faced her straight on. "Tell me," I said gently.
"I think one day would be more than enough, and I'm not sure how I feel about being away from the office for two. But I don't feel comfortable driving by myself home from Nashville, especially after dark."
My eyebrows bent in confusion. "Okay. Yeah, that's ... fine. My mom doesn't like driving at night either. She can't see as well."
Magnolia smiled softly. For some reason, I knew I was off base. "It's probably a little different in LA. It's different here in Green Valley, too, I guess. But ... in the South, girls with my color skin don't drive at night. It's not safe."
My heart stopped, and I hated—hated—how long it took me to think of it from that angle. Because I didn't have to. Every inch of my skin felt tight and uncomfortable, and so many reactions warred to take first place.
Anger that she had to even think that way.
Frustration at my own reaction.
Helplessness when I thought it might've been hard for her to admit that to me.
And a needle-sharp sense of protectiveness, something powerful, something I was hardly aware of as it slid under my skin, which she wasn't asking for from me and probably didn't need.
At that moment, no more than a blink of an eye to her, I remembered a race-centered conversation I'd had with one of my coworkers back in California, a black man my age, who told me once, "Don't get mad for me, Grady. I don't need your anger. I just need you to listen."
I swallowed carefully. "Magnolia," I said when she looked down at the floor. Her eyes lifted to mine. "We'll make a day of it, okay? I'll drive, as long as you can handle my horrible singing."
She took a second before she answered. "I can stay back, Grady."
"You said you want to come, right?"
A short nod was what I got in answer.
"Then I'll drive us." All I could do was keep my answers simple. Because everything in my head was very not simple. And I couldn't unload that onto her. I couldn't unload it onto anyone.
Magnolia lifted her chin a notch. "Thank you, Grady."
I nodded. "I, uh, I brought you coffee that's probably cold now. And tea because I
wasn't sure if you wanted that instead."
She approached the desk slowly and pulled open the bakery bag. Whatever mess she saw in there made her smile. "Those muffins look a little sad."
"I dropped them. Twice."
This time, her smile showed her straight, white teeth and a dent appeared in her cheek. Instead of pulling out the muffin, she carefully laid her hand on my forearm and squeezed.
It was such a simple touch. I couldn't even feel her skin on mine because I was wearing a long-sleeve shirt, but it didn't matter. With the way her fingers curled around my arm, I wasn't sure I'd ever treasured a single moment of my life more.
"Let's get back to work," she said quietly.
I notched two fingers to my temple in a salute. "Yes, ma'am."
Chapter 12
Magnolia
The day started poorly, when I rolled over and realized I was supposed to be awake about a half an hour earlier.
The screen on my useless phone showed that I'd set my alarm the night before for p.m. not a.m., and I had roughly twenty-two minutes before Grady picked me up for our day in Nashville.
Rushing around like a headless chicken was not my idea of fun, especially well before six o'clock in the morning, but I realized one small perk that I'd gained in the chaos of those twenty-two minutes.
I had no time to be nervous.
"Nervous," I muttered. I could hardly even look my reflection in the eye as I said it. Why should I be nervous?
No matter how much I reminded myself that I shouldn't be, I couldn't lie to that swirling pit in my belly when I found myself wondering what someone would think of my home. What they'd think of my manners or what I was wearing. What they'd think of me.
I hadn't been nervous to spend time with someone since ... I straightened at the bathroom counter and stared down at the container of liquid blush in my hand. Not since I first started dating Tucker.
Those nerves were different, of course, because seventeen-year-old Magnolia was an entirely different person than I was now. Plus, those were the nerves of first touches and first kisses, of a boy who gave me butterflies.
Steal My Magnolia (Love at First Sight Book 3) Page 10