Grady was thinking the same thing. "They come past your house often?" he asked. His face was hard lines, lending him an unforgiving look that I hadn't yet seen on him.
"Every once in a while, I'll hear a group like that go by, yes."
He turned the car onto my street, passing my neighbors slowly. There were only four houses on our road, but my street was adjacent to another, so I had a couple of neighbors behind me as well. It was one of my daddy's caveats. Private, but not too private. Enough people around that if I needed help with something, I had someone nearby to call.
I grimaced when he pulled into the driveway, and I saw that the light above my garage was burned out.
"No outside lights?" he asked.
"I think the one above the garage burned out. It's supposed to be on right now."
He slid the car in park, already taking off his seat belt before another word came out of his mouth. "I can replace that for you."
There'd be no token protestation from me. I breathed a sigh of relief when he got out of the car. I'd lived on my own in the few years since I graduated college, but for all those years, I'd had Tucker to come over and do those small things for me. Now, some women might get up in arms because couldn't I change the light bulb my damn self?
Sure.
Just like I could skydive. I could bungee jump. I could get a giant tattoo on my ass and drink whiskey all day, every day, but that didn't mean any of those things sounded particularly fun. Climbing up a ladder to reach floodlights perched over my garage with no one to brace said ladder for me sounded like a perfectly delightful way to end up with a broken leg.
If Grady wanted to make his tall self useful while he was here, then it would be downright rude of me to take that away from him.
My Grandma MacIntyre used to tell me that she could fix every single thing in their house just as well as Grandpa could, but if she started, then all he'd do was bug her incessantly with how bored he was.
Compromise, she'd said, was about more than just making decisions. For a second, I missed her, missed them both so much that it knocked the breath from my lungs.
Using the flashlight on my phone, I unlocked the door, going into my single stall garage, and then pushed the button to open the door. As it slowly creaked open, shedding light onto the driveway, I realized just how strange it was to have another man here doing something like this for me.
Maybe Grady was right. If I couldn't have him change a light bulb without it triggering some odd sense of unease, how on earth could I expect to go on a date with someone? Kiss someone? Sleep with someone?
As Grady moved around my garage, his eyes tracking the perfectly clean shelves lining the back with amusement, my cell phone buzzed in my purse.
I didn't even glance at the screen before I answered it.
"Hello?"
"Robert across the street just called me to say that there was a strange man in your garage with you."
I rubbed my forehead. "Nice to talk to you too, Daddy."
"Who is it? And is that where you've been all day? I drove by on my way home, and everything was dark."
Grady must have heard my father's voice because I caught him grinning as he pulled the ladder off the hook on the wall.
"I was at a convention in Nashville for work. We just got home."
He was quiet on the other end of the phone. "You didn't drive, did you?"
"No." I stared at the man I worked for while he climbed up that ladder with ease, light bulb tucked safely in one hand. "Grady drove us, and I know I don't have to explain who that is because I reckon you know already."
Daddy sighed. "Marcia already screwed something up today."
"I highly doubt that."
"Fine," he said begrudgingly. "She didn't. But she jumps around like a cricket every time I come out of my office, and it drives me crazy."
That made me smile. "Marcia's always had me as the buffer. But she'll learn, they all will, that your bark is much, much worse than your bite."
"Are you happy?" He went silent for a second, and as bright, beautiful light flooded the driveway, Grady climbed down the ladder, his eyes pinned on me. "Doing what you're doing, are you actually happy, or is this just about proving a point?"
"Does it matter?" I asked quietly. "To you, I mean."
"Yeah." His voice was gruff. "I may not like it, but if you're happy, that's the only thing that matters to me, Magnolia."
My eyes closed, and I hated the way the bridge of my nose burned with unshed tears. This was the side of my daddy that no one saw except me and Momma.
When I opened them again, Grady had his arms braced on the top of the ladder, just watching me. There was no way he could've heard what my father asked me.
I held Grady's gaze as I answered. "Yeah, Daddy, I am."
Grady dropped his head and tucked the legs of the ladder together, moving past me quietly so he could hang it back up.
My father cleared his throat, and oh Lord, for some reason, I just knew he was trying to keep himself together. I thought about what Grady had said on the drive, how he must have done some things right for all the things he did wrong.
"I love you," I told him. "And I know this is hard because of how much you love me."
"Uh-huh," he replied, voice thick and full. "You know I do. I, uh, I gotta go, Magnolia. We'll see you next week for Thanksgiving, right?"
"Yes, Daddy. I'll be there."
He hung up before I could say anything else, and I kept the phone up to my ear for a second longer.
As I tucked it into my purse, Grady spoke from behind me. "Everything okay?"
I turned, bracing my back against my car. "Yeah," I answered slowly. "I think so."
Grady sucked in a slow breath, and it made his chest expand underneath his dark shirt. He'd pushed the sleeves up while he drove, and even though the air was brisk, it felt nice inside my garage where we were protected from the wind. When he tucked his hands into his front pockets, the muscles in his forearms flexed, veins popping under his skin.
My thoughts strayed again as I noticed those veins for the first time.
Elephants weren't just in my brain again, making their big, cumbersome presence known, they were pirouetting in tutus through my whole body.
Grady let out that breath, and for a moment, I saw something flash in his eyes that made me wonder if he had the same kind of thoughts. His eyes, warm and beautiful, landed for just a split second on my mouth, and when they did, my entire body went hot.
"It was a good day today," I said.
He nodded, his gaze leaving my lips and dropping to the floor. "It was. Thank you for coming with me. I think we made some good contacts."
What I'd said and how he'd answered were on two separate wavelengths. Mine served as a segue, one where I was weighing the intelligence of inviting him in simply to continue that good day with no expectations and no ulterior motives.
His was the establishing of boundaries. Professional boundaries.
I wasn't embarrassed because I saw the way he looked at my lips in that one moment he'd allowed himself to. But given the respect Grady had shown me in such a short amount of time, I could respect him in the same way.
"Thank you for driving," I told him.
He nodded.
"And for the light."
Grady smiled, a subdued, sweet smile, and it curled up my insides, a delicious kind of curl too. The kind your toes made when you were kissed and kissed thoroughly. "You're welcome." He jerked his chin to the house. "Go on in. I'll wait to leave until you lock up."
If this was the kind of man who still existed out in the world, the kind who could allow me to walk past without so much as a single touch, then I would be okay waiting.
Chapter 16
Grady
If someone had asked me to list the top ten traits that defined me, patience would never have been one of them. But I learned over that holiday season that I'd pegged myself wrong my whole life.
I was
&nbs
p; So
Freaking
Patient.
Miserable? Yes.
But also, patient.
Thanksgiving
We gathered at Uncle Robert and Aunt Fran's house. People spilled from room to room, two long tables filled with delicious-smelling foods, and it was all I could do not to stare like a creeper at all the blissfully happy couples that the house contained.
My cousin Cooper and his wife, Sylvia, were still newlyweds as they hadn't yet celebrated their first anniversary. They met and started dating when they were fifteen. She sat on his lap, stealing bites of food off his plate, and they finished each other's sentences.
Assholes.
My cousin Levi, visiting from Seattle with his girlfriend, Joss. They were at the end of the table, though Joss wasn't in Levi's lap. She got the seat at the head of that table because it was easier for her to maneuver in her wheelchair. Watching them was like watching Cooper and Sylvia because they'd known each other for so many years, and there was an ease and comfort in their interactions. Joss rolled her eyes when Levi stood on his chair to whistle for everyone before Uncle Robert said grace over the meal. He messed up her hair when she turned to talk to someone on her other side. Instead of glaring at him, I saw her hand sneak over and pinch the inner skin on his thigh, which made him yelp loudly.
They'd been best friends for five years before Levi's very unrequited love had finally been ... requited.
And then there was Grace and Tucker. Their relationship was still new. They still traded long glances that made me want to puke. They leaned in and whispered things in each other’s ears, snuggling on the couch and talking while football played on the TV.
The whole day was a glimpse into what this Buchanan curse meant. The bigness of it. The immense happiness on display was wonderful. It was terrible too.
Because trying to insert Magnolia and me into what I was seeing was hard to do with Tucker and Grace cuddling and whispering and looking. In my head, no matter how I turned it around and around, I couldn't make the puzzle piece fit.
No one noticed how quiet I was except Grace, who threw a wadded-up napkin at my face as I finished my second plate of food.
"You okay?" she mouthed.
I winked, which had her shoulders relaxing.
Some twins I knew could genuinely read each other's minds, but not Grace and me. We didn't always mirror each other's feelings, but every once in a while, I could be in the room with her and know that she needed a hug from her brother without her saying a single word.
That must have been what she was feeling too because after plates were cleared, bellies were full, and music played over the chatter of happy voices, she found me in the kitchen and wrapped her arms around my middle.
I hugged my sister back, kissed the top of her head, and then went to find a quiet place to sit where I wouldn't have to watch everyone around me live out their loves on display. As I left the room, I felt her eyes heavy on my back, but I didn't turn around.
December
The office was quiet for the weeks leading up to Christmas, but our spring calendar was booking up nicely. Between seeking out some corporate partnerships and the lull in immediate business, Magnolia had started doing some of her work at home with my permission.
But the times we saw each other was like tearing at a freshly healed wound. For a few days, the bleeding would stop, it would start closing, and I would reaffirm that I was capable of being around her without being with her.
Then I'd see her.
See her smile.
See her laugh.
See her pretend she wasn't rolling her eyes at something I did.
And just like that, the pain was fresh, and the scar reopened. She hung Christmas lights through the office, humming to music in the background, and I'd discover something new—like she couldn't sing for shit—and it got even worse.
I loved that Magnolia couldn't sing.
Everything else about her seemed so perfect or perfect for me, at least, that this one imperfection somehow made her even more endearing to me.
She brought in poinsettias for the table in the front window and a small Christmas tree that she set next to the desk, decorated in red and white lights.
A red wreath for the door.
"Do our decorations coordinate?" I asked one day, looking between the flowers and the tree and the miniature ornaments on the tiny branches.
She tsked. "I'm not an amateur."
"I never would have suggested such a thing."
Eyeing the lights carefully, she stood on a stepladder and moved the left side until everything was even. "My momma told me that her mom, my Mawmaw Boone, loved to decorate for the holidays. I didn't know her, she died just after I was born, so I always feel like I'm doing something she'd love when I make everything look nice for special occasions."
Would she think it was weird if I just sat and watched her all day? She probably would.
"My mom decks out her place too," I said. "The only thing that freaks me out is the giant bunny in the front yard for Easter."
Magnolia laughed. "Just wait until Halloween, Grady. I'll blow your mind."
I smiled for hours after that one exchange. It tided me over for days when she worked from home.
The next day, I arrived at the darkened office and immediately plugged in the small tree and the lights along the shelving. It made everything warm and bright. When I turned, I noticed a small, neatly wrapped box on the corner of the desk.
Sitting at the desk chair, I took a second before I pulled it toward me.
The tag on the box was handwritten.
Merry Christmas, Grady
Obviously, she didn't need to say who it was from. No one else would be leaving me a present. Each corner was folded with ruthless precision, and I thought about her taping down the immaculate edges.
Magnolia should go into business as a gift wrapper because I'd never seen anything as perfect as that small box. I opened it as delicately as my big, oafish fingers could manage, trying to preserve the gold-embossed wrapping.
I lifted the lid, and on top of something wrapped in white tissue was another small notecard.
I hope you never need this, but if you do, you'll be able to find where you need to go.
Magnolia
My heart was drumming uncomfortably, skipping over some beats while spending extra time on others. Underneath the white tissue paper was a beautiful vintage-looking compass.
It was gold and heavy in my hand. The lid lifted to reveal a beautiful black and white face, the arrow moving unerringly as I spun in the chair.
The sight of it rendered me mute because she'd seen this piece of art and thought of me.
Why did that feel like a sign?
And why was I such a jackass that I hadn't gotten her a Christmas present?
Probably because I was afraid that I'd pick out something too obvious. That would make my feelings too apparent.
Like an engagement ring.
Look, Magnolia, I got your name tattooed over my heart. Merry Christmas!
I laughed under my breath. Probably not.
I sent her a text even though I didn't really want to set the compass down.
Me: The compass is beautiful, thank you very much.
Magnolia: You're very welcome. I know it's a bit much for a Christmas present for your boss, but I saw it at a vintage store in Merryville and thought of you. Enjoy your days off, Grady.
Obviously, I didn't see her after that since we closed down the office for a few days before and after the holiday. But when I got home that day, I kept my gift out on my kitchen counter where it absolutely tore my heart out every single time I saw it.
I found myself going on longer and harder hikes, probably things I shouldn't have been doing by myself.
Inside the converted garage apartment where I lived, I worked out every evening, just so that my body would hit the point of exhaustion before I flopped face-first onto my bed.
Christmas morn
ing, while we opened presents at Pop's small apartment downtown, I caught Grace watching me carefully a few times, but since Thanksgiving, she'd stopped asking me if I was okay. We ate cinnamon rolls from Donner Bakery in our pajamas around my dad's Charlie Brown-esque tree and traded white elephant gifts with each other.
I ended up with a beat-up tackle box from Tucker, and I stared at it for a while, wondering if it had come from Big Bob's Bait and Tackle, a remnant of his time with Magnolia.
The tackle box did not sit out on my counter.
Before I went to bed that night, I stared at my phone and allowed myself one text to Magnolia. Just one.
Merry Christmas, Magnolia. I'm trying to figure out how the person who's known me the shortest amount of time ended up buying me the most perfect gift I've ever gotten.
My fingers deleted that second sentence before I could hit send. I closed my eyes, laid an arm over my face, and tried again.
Merry Christmas, Magnolia. I hope you got everything on your list this year.
"Stupid," I whispered, punching the backspace button like it had personally injured me.
Merry Christmas, Magnolia. I wish I could've given you the present I really wanted to give you. Maybe next year.
Backspace, until it was all gone. "Because that's not creepy."
Merry Christmas, Magnolia. I miss you when I don't get to see you. You're the most fascinating woman I've ever met in my entire life. I am in love with you.
Backspace.
Merry Christmas, Magnolia.
I hit send.
Immediately, she started typing, and I found myself stupidly, idiotically, breathless with anticipation.
Magnolia: Merry Christmas, Grady. Was Santa good to you this year?
I rolled over onto my side and took a deep breath before I answered.
Me: Got almost everything I wanted.
Me: You?
Magnolia: Pretty much the same.
I let out a slow breath. I felt like we were dangling on a dangerous precipice.
Magnolia: What are you up to?
Steal My Magnolia (Love at First Sight Book 3) Page 13