I nod. “Not totally stress, but I think about them.”
“There’s more to this.” She taps her lips. “What aren’t you telling me?” She narrows her eyes, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder and leaning forward on her elbows.
I cradle my wineglass, turning it right and left, avoiding her blue eyes.
“Magnolia Leigh,” she says firmly.
I throw my head back. “Not you, too.” I shake my head. “What is up with people using my fake middle name.”
“I learned it from your mom,” she shrugs with a smile tugging her lips, breaking up her stern expression.
“I’m gonna have to legally change it one day,” I joke.
After ordering a second glass of wine and sighing, I look at my friend. “There is something else, but once I voice it, it will make it more real than it already feels and complicate things to the millionth degree.”
“Out with it,” she demands with a wave of her hand.
I close my eyes, take a drink of my fresh wine for liquid courage, and then spit it out in one breath. “I-have-a-crush-on-one-of-my-clients’-dad.” I blink my eyes open and look at Grace.
“Okay. I’m gonna need you to say that slower to make sure I understood,” she talks slow as if I were a child.
I blow out a breath, flapping my lips. “I can’t go into details or names,” I remind her, and she nods.
“I’m attracted to one of the dads. I’ve kinda become friends with his sister-in-law since it’s a small town, and you know it isn’t easy to find someone not related in one way or another to someone else. Instead of six degrees of separation, it’s more like three, or two, let’s be real. Anyway, I like him. I don’t know him well, but it’s there. Every time I see him, I want to hug him, touch him, talk to him. He’s a widower, so that alone is emotionally complicated because I know how much losing someone you love affects people, but on top of it, I’m working with his daughters.” I slap a hand over my face and widen my eyes from my rambling.
“Shit, I didn’t say that last part.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” And I know it is. Grace is loyal and trustworthy, which is why I know she’s the perfect person to talk to about this.
“That is complicated,” she nods, pensive.
“I know,” I whisper. “It’s wrong—like counseling one-oh-one wrong. I know better, but I can’t help it. Lately, we’ve had these…moments. We’ve run into each other outside of work because, again, I am friends with his sister-in-law, and she and his brother own a bookstore—which you’d totally love, by the way—and they do wine pairing events with books, so I’ve seen him there and at town activities, and the girls say hi to me and I have to be distant and smile politely but walk away, and I don’t want them to think, What the fuck is wrong with her? She doesn’t like us.” I blow out after rambling the longest run-on sentence of my life.
“Breathe, Magnolia,” Grace says, patting my hand. I nod and do just that, slow and deep breaths. “First of all, the girls aren’t thinking with the word fuck. At least I hope not because that’d be a different topic of conversation.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, and it goes back to getting emotionally attached to clients,” she frowns.
“Yeah,” I nod, defeated.
“Does it happen just with them since you’re interested in their father?”
“Mostly,” I nod. “I’ve seen other clients out, obviously, but usually it’s an incognito smile or head nod. A neighborly hello as if they were anyone else. It’s different with them.”
“Sounds to me that the girls have also taken a liking to you if they want more than a simple smile when they see you.”
“Maybe, but I assumed it was because they don’t have their mom.”
“But they have an aunt, yeah? If his brother’s married.”
“Technically, engaged, but sister-in-law is easier to say than future sister-in-law since they get married soon, and she’s practically already that. But yeah, they have two aunts because he also has a sister.”
“So they have women in their lives to admire and spend time with.”
“True,” I nod.
“I think this is a more individualized case. You’ll get some kind of attachment and feelings to your clients because you care what will happen to them. I don’t think you’re the only therapist who feels that way. I’d wager to say most do. And the same goes for clients. It’s about knowing to keep a defined line so they’re not overly attached and can’t become independent once you’re done helping them.”
“Again, are you secretly a therapist?”
“Again,” she repeats with an eye-roll. “I’ve heard you talk plenty, and we went to college together. Don’t you remember that you’d explain everything out loud when you were studying because it’d help you memorize it if you taught it to someone else?”
“Anyway,” she continues. “I reckon you feel this way because you are attracted to this guy. It makes things feel differently.”
“The girls are so sweet, too.” I slump back on my chair.
“Right. And you feel a different connection to them.”
I nod, unable to hide it. Then, I bury my face in my hands and shake my head.
“What am I gonna do?” I look up at Grace, hoping she has the answer.
“Is there another therapist you can transfer them to?”
“No. I’m the only child therapist at the office—actually, in the town. Besides, they already had a huge change when the previous therapist left. If I transferred them, it could be a big setback, and they’re making great progress.” I just hope that part of that progress is being able to go to the wedding soon.
Grace frowns, and I know she’s hit the same wall I have. I either cut these feelings quickly, or I’m going to have a big problem on my hands.
“You also know how much I need this paycheck,” I confide in her.
“I do. How about you take it day by day?”
“That’s what I’ve been doing, but lately, it’s as if he’s also feeling something. We’ve had a few instances where it’s been more than client and therapist. The way we look at each other…something is there.”
“I wish I had more insight.” She sighs, twirling her empty glass.
“Just talking it out has been helpful,” I assure her. “I can’t really tell anyone in town, and I trust you wholeheartedly.”
“You know I’m always here for you,” she gives me a kind smile.
“Thank you. Now, let’s switch the subject to something lighter. Tell me how the ranch is doin’.”
Grace tells me all about her family ranch, and I tell her about things in Willow Creek I think she’ll love. It’s so nice to be able to spend time with her and be open and honest about my feelings. If things were different, I think I could have that with some people in Willow Creek. Right now, though, I need to keep lines clear.
After saying goodbye to my parents over a hundred times and hugging them tightly, I drive back to Willow Creek. It was nice to see my parents, help them in any way I can, and make sure my mom is truly okay. I told them they should come to Willow Creek soon and see where I’m living. I think they’d like the town. Having a ranch limits free time, but I’m sure they can come for a weekend and let their ranch hand take care of the animals.
Music playing through my car, I smile when I finally see the sign for Willow Creek. I get off the highway and make the drive into town, smiling when it comes into view. In a few short months, this place has become home.
I stop at the grocery store before heading home to stock up on a few things for the week. There’s nothing I hate more than grocery shopping, so if I don’t go now, I’ll find excuses not to do it throughout the week and eat spaghetti with olive oil and garlic powder for five days straight.
After filling my basket with more things than I planned to get, I head to the check-out line and tense. Brett is the last person in line. His hair is messy, and he’s in a pair of well-worn jeans and a white t-shirt
. He owns the straight-out-of-bed look with confidence, and I can’t look away from the muscles on his arms.
Standing behind him, I’m hit with his woodsy cologne. Is everything about him perfect and enticing? Geez, Louise.
Turning around, he does a double-take and smiles.
“Hey.”
I give a tight-lipped smile.
“Hi.” I keep it at that before I start babbling about fancy meeting him at a grocery line as if it’d be the most random thing in the world, considering we live in a town with less than two thousand residents, and it’s the only grocery store in said town.
“How are you?”
“Good. Just got back into town and needed some things.” I lift my basket.
“Did you go visit your parents?” he asks with honest curiosity.
“I did,” I nod with a smile.
“Everything is okay? You seemed pretty upset the other day.”
“Yeah, I was worried about nothing.” I wave it off.
“I’m glad.” He lowers his voice and leans closer, his scent invading my senses, and I fight the urge to close my eyes and breathe him in. “I’ve been working with the girls.” His quiet words surprise me.
“Yeah?”
“We’ve been talking about the winery.”
“That’s great,” I smile honestly now.
“It has been helpful,” he nods, walking forward as the person at the register pays.
As he places his items on the belt, he asks, “Wanna get a cup of coffee?”
I hesitate, my eyes widening.
“So I can tell you what I’ve been doing with them. It’s not wrong,” he smiles, and a dimple pops up on one cheek.
My goodness, my ovaries are exploding, and my heart’s racing. And logical thought is checking out and turning a blind eye as I relent with a head nod because I’m a masochist.
“Awesome. I think they’ve been receptive. They told me a bit about what you’ve done, so I’ve just taken note and added to it.” He smiles proudly, and I can’t help the sigh that escapes my lips. He lifts his brows, and my eyes widen.
“Uh…that’s great.” I nod.
When he presses his lips together, I realize he may not want to say more while standing in line at the grocery store, so we each pay and place our bags in our cars before walking over to The Grind nearby.
Chapter 19
Brett
I walk beside Magnolia, looking at her out of the corner of my eye. I’ve been wondering how she’s doing since I saw the worry on her face this past week. I open the door to The Grind and ask her what she’d like.
“I’ve got it.” She reaches for her purse, but I stop her, placing my hand over her arm.
“I insist.” She looks up at me through her lashes, hesitation written all over her face.
“Thank you,” she breathes out, straightening herself. I raise my eyebrows, waiting for her order. “I’ll have a chai latte.”
I turn to the barista and place our order, paying and thanking her. As we take a seat at a table and wait for our drinks, I ask, “How was your weekend?”
“It was good. It was nice to see my parents.”
“Where are you from?” I rest my elbows on the table, folding my hands together.
“Cedar Springs. Not too far,” she responds with a nostalgic smile.
“It’s not.”
“So, tell me what you did with the girls.” She turns the conversation without being subtle, and I smirk. Something about her pulls me in. I don’t know if it’s smart to dig deeper or if I’m even ready for it, but I know that I keep wondering about it and won’t stop until I figure it out.
“They told me how you showed them the photos of the current site I sent you. They seemed to be more receptive to those,” I comment.
“Yeah, it was the same with me.”
“I asked if they wanted me to tell them what’s been done so far, the changes that have occurred since those pictures were taken. We spent the weekend talking about it. They’d come back later and ask questions, their curiosity spiking. It’s amazing,” I shake my head in awe of how far Charlie and Chloe have come.
When the barista calls our names, I smile and stand, grabbing our drinks. The few people at the coffee shop smile my way, curious about seeing me sitting with a woman who isn’t family. It’s no secret I haven’t even had a meal with a woman since Ella died. Hopefully, they don’t start spreading rumors.
Magnolia is sliding her phone into her purse when I dit back down.
“Is everything okay?” I lift my chin toward her purse.
“Yeah, just my mom making sure I arrived safely.” She smiles gratefully and cradles her mug. “I love that they use real mugs if you have your drink here.” She stares into the creamy liquid.
“Anyway, I think it’s great that they were open to talking about it.” She looks up at me, her gaze soft and nervous. Strands of hair fall from her messy ponytail, and I itch to brush them behind her ear so I can have an uninterrupted view of her face.
“Yeah, I thought it’d be a way to make them feel a part of the winery, not separate from it. Break up the barricade between them and the place they grew up visiting and loving.”
“It’s smart,” she nods. “What kind of questions did they ask?” She leans forward, intently focused.
“They asked about the layout. The kitchen, if the wall color would be the same. They were pretty simple questions, but I thought it was a good sign. Before, they wouldn’t even like me going to work, let alone talking about it or seeing pictures.”
I watch her as she takes a drink of her chai. Her tongue peeks out, licking her lips clean, and I clear my throat, looking away.
“You can help them visualize a walk-through. Give them weekly updates about how the construction is coming along.”
I nod. “Do you think they’ll feel safe to go to the wedding?” I press my lips together. “I don’t know if that’s asking too much of them, pushing them too fast.”
“I’m going to talk to them about it this week. I think it helps that the wedding is out in the vineyard and not indoors. I was actually going to suggest another outdoor session to get them more comfortable in nature and feeling free in it.”
“I agree,” I say with confidence. “They’ve loved their outdoor sessions, and it’s made them less attached.”
“Great, we’ll go to the same park.” She pauses, tapping her chin. “You know… Depending on what they tell me this week, you might want to drive them by the winery. They’ll be able to face it from a distance, in the safety of the car. Slowly expose them to the area. I can bring it up if you’d like.”
“That’s a good idea. I think it’s a good way to inch them without overwhelming them. If it’s too much, I can just drive away.”
“Exactly,” she smiles widely.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, full of gratitude.
Magnolia waves me off. “It’s my job.”
“What made you choose this career?” I lean forward, taking a drink of my coffee while she speaks.
“I’ve always wanted to help people. A friend says it’s in my nature.”
“I agree,” I interrupt. “It’s clear you’re passionate about it.”
“Thank you.” A light blush colors her cheeks, and she finally pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Anyway, I was always the friend people came to for advice. When I was in high school, I had a counselor that was so kind and helpful. She inspired me.”
“That’s great. I’m glad you took the job.” I stare into her eyes, wanting to say more but not finding the words or wanting to cross a line. Instead, I ask more about her.
“You said your parents have a ranch?” I let it linger like a question.
“They do. It’s not huge like others in Cedar Springs, but they make do.”
“Cattle?” I tilt my head, curious about her life.
“Yeah,” she smiles wistfully. “We also have some horses, but it’s a cattle ranch.”
“That�
�s cool. I don’t know much about ranching, but being from small-town Texas, you have some knowledge.”
She chuckles, nodding. The sound is beautiful and throaty. Her eyes crinkle and her lower lip juts out more than her top one.
“That’s very true. I loved growing up on the ranch. It’s something I’m grateful I got to experience. It gives you a different perspective, learning life lessons not everyone has the opportunity to learn.”
“I can see that. I’ll admit, my siblings and I had it pretty easy. Our family is popular in town. We’re like the golden kids here, and it made growing up here a piece of cake. I won’t deny that, but my parents still worked to instill beliefs their parents instilled in them. We all worked at the winery during the summer, learned the business and how to value things.”
“I think that’s fantastic. Not every parent will do that if they have the means to offer their kids anything they want.”
I let out a chuckle. “Yeah, we had to work for what we wanted despite our financial situation.” I shake my head. “I remember wanting a bike, and my dad made me work at the winery to earn it. I was fourteen. Instead of hanging out with my friends on the weekends and days off from school, I was working alongside him.”
Magnolia grins as she listens to me. It’s been so long since I’ve shared a normal conversation with someone that didn’t involve my daughters, work, or my family.
“I bet you took care of that bike with all you had,” she muses.
“Hell yeah,” I nod. “The first time it got a scratch, I cursed the world and stressed over it. It cost me, but it made it that much better.”
“That sounds about right,” she says with a laugh.
“So I’m not the total spoiled boy you might think I am,” I lean forward, dropping my voice.
Magnolia’s eyes slightly widen, flickering from my gaze to my lips.
“I don’t think that,” she adds quickly, shaking her head.
“Just makin’ sure,” I smirk, drinking my now lukewarm coffee.
Magnolia takes a sip as well, tearing her eyes away from mine. I want more, so much more. I think about Ella, what she told me before she passed in that accident. Could this be what she meant? Allow myself to open up to someone else. See someone for more than just a person crossing through in my life.
Small Town King: A Single Dad Romance (Carlisle Cellars Book 3) Page 13