Steal My Magnolia (Love at First Sight Book 3)

by Smartypants Romance

  "Like I said." She eyed me carefully. "It's his tale to tell. But I'm sure he'd talk to you if you wanted to ask him what happened."

  "Not sure if it would make me feel better right now."

  "Do ... do Tucker and Grace know?" she asked.

  I nodded.

  "Okay." Aunt Fran blew out a slow breath. "And you're trying to figure out how to tell her? For as crazy as her father is, she's a reasonable girl. God bless Bobby Jo, because she's the only reason that Magnolia got the brains she did."

  I rubbed at the spot over my heart. "She knows."

  A soft, knowing exhale was all I got. "Oh."

  "Yeah."

  "Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry." She patted my hand. "Give it time. But ... maybe just call Hunter. See what he has to say. It might help."

  I nodded. Aunt Fran came around the counter and folded me in a tight squeeze. It felt nice, like someone was trying to absorb some of this from me.

  "I'll tell you this," she said, arms still tight around me. "Try not to worry about what'll happen tomorrow, all right?"

  "That easy, huh?"

  She leaned back and gently patted the side of my face. "Worry is like trying to win a race while you're sitting on a rocking horse. You'll move, all right, but you sure won't get anywhere good."

  My eyebrows lifted. "That's good advice."

  "I'm a smart woman." She pointed at the food. "You better clear that plate before you leave this kitchen. You need some good food."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "And don't you even think about leaving that dirty dish in the sink. Every person who walks in this house knows how to open a dishwasher."

  She gave me a motherly peck on the cheek and left me with my fancy-plated leftovers.

  She didn't pry, which I appreciated. Probably because it was clear enough that Magnolia hadn't liked what I'd had to say. My fumbling admission.

  It still made me groan when I thought about it. But in truth, there was no good, easy way to tell someone, and I was making peace with that.

  And I still had hope. The fact she chased me to the campsite, stayed overnight, then kissed me like she had, I couldn't help but have hope. But hope was hard to keep honed to a sharp edge in the face of continued silence.

  Somehow, I found myself rounding the corner toward February as the days passed in the wake of her walking away from the campsite.

  The hope dulled from overuse with every day that passed.

  When I imagined her sneaking into the office, probably when the skies were still dark, just to avoid seeing me, it had the same effect.

  When I saw her desk, tidy and neat and empty, I felt it too.

  Every day that my voicemail sat on her phone, if she'd even kept it there, I felt just a bit more scraped out inside. And because that hollow feeling was so unfamiliar, I was doing things like chopping up hundred-year-old trees with a single ax.

  As I ate the food from Aunt Fran, I scrolled through my phone and stared at Hunter's contact info.

  I wasn't quite ready to talk to him yet—the man who'd left. Who married someone else, and from what we all knew, wasn't all that happy in the wake of that choice.

  No. I wasn't ready for that yet.

  I still had hope—dull and quieted—but it was there.

  Chapter 25

  Grady

  By the time the tree was chopped, the pieces stacked along the back of Aunt Fran and Uncle Robert's yard, a few more days had passed. February entered quietly with some cold, sunny days that made for excellent outdoor working.

  Even though no hikes were scheduled that week, I found myself in the office, watching Green Valley pass by the front window. They went on about their lives like normal, and it was hard not to envy them.

  Envy wasn't something I was used to feeling. Not with anything, really.

  Back in California, I used to feel pangs of it when I thought of the people who could spend their workdays wandering the outdoors. Which was what made my current situation even more ironic.

  Here I was in Tennessee, a beautiful mountain range and massive national park practically in my backyard, and I was choosing to sit inside at a desk.

  There really wasn't even anything for me to do there, except think about her.

  The office was immaculate, which meant she'd spent some time making it so.

  I found myself wishing she'd put up some of her holiday decorations. A Valentine's Day-themed Christmas tree or something. Heart confetti lining the floors. A bouquet of red and pink flowers on the table, so the people passing by could smile at them.

  Anything.

  Like it had since Aunt Fran brought it up, it got me thinking about Hunter. How did you willingly walk away from the person you knew was perfect for you?

  Levi waited it out, and it was hard to argue with those results.

  Suddenly, I couldn't not ask him. I couldn't not try to understand.

  Hunter was about a decade older than Grace and me, so we'd never been close or even talked that much, to be honest. Levi I could've called in a heartbeat, but not his eldest brother.

  Me: Hey, it's Grady. I have a strange question for you, if you have a few minutes. It's about the family... you know. The curse.

  Gray dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.

  My phone rang, and his name appeared. My head went back in surprise.

  "Hey," I said.

  Hunter was quiet for a second, then he sighed. "This is the last damn thing I ever want to talk about with anyone."

  That had me cracking a rusty smile. "You called me, remember?"

  He grunted. "I have fifteen minutes until my next meeting, so if you're going to ask something, let's just get this over with."

  Hunter was so different from his brothers, who were both a lot like me. He was gruff and a little quiet. He rarely visited, and when he did, it was quick. After about three more sentences, it would probably go down as the longest conversation I'd ever had with him.

  But he was giving me time when I asked for it, and that mattered. I stared at Magnolia's desk and blinked.

  "How were you able to walk away from Green Valley knowing she was still here? Assuming she is," I added.

  "Good Lord, jump right in without warning, why don't you?"

  "You told me to ask."

  "I know," he said. Hunter took in slow inhale, a slower exhale. "Leaving was an act of self-preservation. At the time, it felt like the only real choice I had."

  I clicked the button for the speaker and set my phone on the desk. "And now?"

  "Now is more complicated," he admitted. "I love Seattle. I love my job. It's not as simple as just deciding to be somewhere else."

  The omission of his wife was glaring, and I hesitated before pointing it out. "And Samantha?"

  Hunter was quiet a moment. "My mother is going to kill me, but I haven't had the heart to tell her this yet, so if you utter a word, I will end you, do you understand?"

  With a grimace, I took his growled warning exactly how he'd intended it. "Yeah, I won't say anything to anyone."

  "Samantha isn’t … she’s not part of the picture anymore," he said, voice no longer a growl but weary. So, so weary. "And no, I’m not explaining why."

  "Got it." A family passed in front of the office window, a little girl popping her head up to look inside. I waved. She waved back and ran to catch up with her parents. "I think I'm just trying to figure out the line between patience"—I rubbed my forehead—"and insanity. When it comes to waiting."

  He hummed. "She not take it well?"

  "Not exactly. And I maybe, no, not maybe ... I told her too soon, I think. But I thought being honest upfront would help."

  Probably for the first time ever, I heard Hunter emit a low chuckle. "Navigating how you drop that particular nugget is like walking through a minefield, Grady."

  "No shit."

  "It didn't go over well with her either," he said quietly. "With I-Iris."

  The way he stumbled over her name plucked a string of re
cognition so deep inside me it was painful.

  "I hate talking about this," he said. "I hate thinking about it. I've moved on from it."

  "How?" I shook my head. "It seems impossible."

  "I will tell you this because I wish I'd had someone to talk to, but I didn't." He stopped to gather himself with another inhale and exhale. "I left Green Valley because living there and not being with her was impossible."

  I didn't say anything, because honestly, what could I say to him? He'd left a decade earlier, carved out a life for himself somewhere different, and the entire time he did it, he knew that the woman he loved, who completed him, was doing the same for herself. It sounded like the worst kind of hell.

  There was a question I didn't want to ask, but I knew I should.

  "How did you know? That you couldn't ever be with her."

  Hunter was quiet for so long that I wasn't sure he was going to answer.

  "Trust me, there was no hope for that situation," he said evenly.

  There was that word again. Hope.

  "Grady," he continued, "I'll tell you this much. If you have even one shred of hope, the tiniest sign that she's not done with you, don't give up. Don't leave. Don't let her doubt you for even one moment, because when she starts doubting you ... that's when it will all go to hell, and you won't be able to claw your way out."

  There was so much raw pain in his voice, it was hard to find my own to be able to answer. I cleared my throat. "I hear you."

  "I gotta go," he said. "Good luck."

  "Thank you, Hunter."

  With a click, he was gone.

  It was the first time in weeks that my focus truly shifted to what the future might look like. Every day since I'd seen her, I was thinking about that day, taking it as it came, keeping my blinders on to the present because that's all I could really do without losing my shit.

  But Hunter's story, even though I got the skimmed-over version, forced my blinders off. Because I had to be able to look around and know that I'd even be able to see a moment of hope if she gave me one. Not only that, but how would I be able to let her know I was still here. As long as she'd let me be.

  Thumb tapping on my thigh, I looked around the office, so drab and quiet without her presence or her touch on the space. And I got an idea.

  I flipped open my laptop and started searching.

  Ten minutes later, I was typing out a very professional email to Magnolia.

  To: MagnoliaMacIntyre@gmail.com

  From: grady.buchanan@gmail.com

  Good morning, Magnolia,

  I'm going to be out of town for most of the day today to get some items for the office in Knoxville. I know it's unlikely that a last-minute booking would come in, but if it does, please feel free to contact Tucker for his availability. I'm letting him know this as well.

  Thanks,

  Grady

  Before lunch, I was in Knoxville at a giant craft store, wondering if I was losing my mind. And as I expected it would, my email triggered a response from her that had me grinning.

  To: grady.buchanan@gmail.com

  From: MagnoliaMacIntyre@gmail.com

  Grady,

  Thank you for letting me know.

  May I ask what items you're purchasing for the office? I wasn't aware we needed any supplies.

  Thanks,

  Magnolia

  To: MagnoliaMacIntyre@gmail.com

  From: grady.buchanan@gmail.com

  Magnolia,

  Just a few things I thought we were missing.

  Have a great day.

  G

  With my phone tucked safely in my back pocket, I wandered the aisles with a goofy grin on my face, spending far more than I anticipated.

  As I made the drive back to Green Valley, I marveled at how one depressing phone call about the sad truth of my cousin's situation and three fairly innocent emails could completely shift my outlook.

  It made me think about one of the visits I'd made to Green Valley as a teenager to spend a couple of weeks of our summer with Pops. I must've been about thirteen, and he was showing me his sharpening stone, the one he kept for all his best knives. As a man who spent a lot of time hunting and fishing, taking the responsibility to clean what lives he'd taken so that he could use every possible part of that animal, knives were an important tool to him.

  "There are easier ways to sharpen a knife," he'd said, sliding the long blade against the coarse stone, one innocuous-looking rectangle he had sitting in front of him on a folded towel. "Faster ways too."

  "How come you don't use those then?"

  "Because faster and easier doesn't always mean it's the best way or the right way." Tilting the knife at just the right angle, he pushed it along the surface of the stone, still visibly wet from the soaking he'd given it the night before. The back and forth motions were soothing, as was the sound it created. "Something like this knife, how important it is to you, you want to take care of it. And sometimes, taking care of something that important, it's better to take things slow and steady, even if it makes more work for you."

  Maybe that’s what I was doing.

  The weeks of quiet were just the soaking of the stone, the necessary time for the conditions to hone that hope again, until it was bright and visible and caught the light just right, so we could both see it.

  Patience had always been one of my weaknesses.

  So had being willing to sit in discomfort.

  But this, she, was worth it.

  The office was just as I'd left it when I returned that evening, and as I nodded to a couple of women who passed on the sidewalk, I wondered if Magnolia was waiting for me to leave so she could see what I was up to.

  I left all but one bag from the craft store in my car while I set up a couple of things. A tall frame passed in front of the window, and I saw Tucker stop and do a double-take when he saw me.

  My face was hot when he slowly opened the door, taking in the sight of me up on the ladder by the black metal shelves.

  "Tucker," I said evenly, like I wasn't hanging a strand of hot-pink, plastic heart-shaped lights along our inventory shelves.

  His eyes were wide and uncertain. I could practically hear his thoughts. That's it. Grady has lost his mind.

  "What'cha up to, Grady?"

  "Just sprucing up the place."

  "Uh-huh." He scratched the side of his face. "Haven't seen much of you the past couple of weeks. Your aunt told me you might be here, and I thought I'd chance it."

  I turned back to the lights and hooked the end on the edge of the shelf, anchoring it with a box of hiking boots. "Mind plugging that in for me?"

  His eyebrows popped up. "Uhh, nope." He leaned over and snatched the end of the strand, plugging it into the wall outlet.

  The lights were terrible. Tacky and cheesy. And perfect. She'd love them. And if I knew her like I thought I did, she'd take them for exactly what I meant them to be. A sign. And a challenge that I knew she wouldn't be able to resist. Not if she still cared, at least. She might think I was crazy, but hell, half the people I loved were crazy in some form.

  "What do you think?" I asked him, climbing down the ladder and studying them carefully.

  "Bit crooked."

  I tilted my head. Shit. They were. "They're supposed to be. It's artsy."

  "Uh-huh." He studied my face. "She talking to you yet?"

  "Not yet," I said, keeping my voice light. "We emailed about some work stuff today, and she hasn't quit yet, so I'm taking that as a good sign."

  Tucker nodded. "I wanted to give both of y'all some space, because I know this isn't a normal situation." He pointed at himself, and then me and the desk, as if that one stupid piece of furniture represented Magnolia. "The three of us. My past with her."

  "It's not." I gestured to the chairs tucked into the table by the front window. "Have a seat."

  He slid one out and flipped it to face the desk, and I took my normal spot.

  "In truth, I wasn't sure if you even needed me to come talk
to you about this," Tucker admitted. "You hardly need my permission, or blessing, whatever. You're both adults if she decides she's okay with everything."

  "But she's still your ex-girlfriend," I said.

  "That she is." Tucker blew out a hard breath. "She's a good person with a good heart, and we grew apart very naturally. Long before your sister showed up. It's almost like we were that married couple who stayed together simply because it was easier, which sounds horrible now, but it's true. I can truly look at her and wish her well. And if you're the man who will protect that heart of hers, then I'm happy." He held my gaze. "I'm happy it's you."

  I extended my hand, which he took in a firm shake. "I hope she lets me."

  "Yeah." He sighed. "Maybe hitting her with that so soon wasn't the best idea."

  "Ya think?"

  We both laughed, and something inside me settled because this was my friend. Someday, he'd be my brother through marriage.

  He glanced at the lights again. "You sure you know what you're doing?"

  "Nope." I smiled. "But I'll tell you right now, with no offense intended, I probably won't ever seek your advice when it comes to her."

  "None taken," he answered easily. "Your Magnolia is different than the one I knew. I can say that with utmost sincerity."

  My Magnolia, I thought. The want was visceral and painful. The desire for her to have, to want that same type of claim on me. There would be no ownership that wasn't fully equal. If she belonged to me, then I'd belong to her right back.

  We stood, and he waited while I locked up the office. As we passed the front window, I caught a glimpse of those lights and smiled.

  Tomorrow. I'd see tomorrow what kind of hope I deserved to have.

  Chapter 26

  Magnolia

  At just after five a.m., the streets of downtown Green Valley were hushed and quiet and dark. My headlights almost seemed like a harsh intrusion when I pulled up in front of the office, but I felt that every time I snuck in early to do my work without fear of running into Grady.

  But that morning, when I rolled out of bed, I hurried to slide on some clothes and shove my feet into my house slippers (which I'd never worn in public before), and I felt a zing of excitement.