The Merriest Magnolia

by Michelle Major

  But that attitude obviously wasn’t going to work with Sam and nothing else was as important as the boy.

  * * *

  “PIZZA’S HERE,” CARRIE SAID when Dylan opened the door to his house later that night.

  He stared at her. “Is pizza delivery your side hustle?”

  She shook her head. “I got here at the same time as the kid delivering your order so since I was coming up the walk anyway, I tipped him and sorry I didn’t call first. I was just so worried and...” She gulped in a breath, embarrassment heating her cheeks. “I’m babbling. Take the pizza. You probably want privacy. I can go. I’m glad Sam’s okay and if you need—”

  She broke off as Dylan leaned in and kissed her, taking the cardboard box from her hands in the same movement.

  “What was that for?” she asked, pressing her fingertips to her lips.

  “Thanks for calling me about the accident. And for the pizza delivery.” Dylan offered a slow half smile that had warmth spreading through her. “Come on in.”

  She followed him through the house to the kitchen, where Sam sat at the table, a sketch pad in front of him.

  “Hey, buddy,” she said quietly.

  He glanced up, his gaze both wary and remorseful. “Do you hate me, too?”

  “No one hates you,” Dylan muttered, placing the pizza box on the table. “Hell, I gave you a hug.”

  Sam rolled his eyes with an enthusiasm only teenagers could manage. “Then you grounded me forever and told me I have to pay for the damage to your stupid, fancy car.” The boy reached down to pet Daisy, who sat at his feet. “It wasn’t me who chewed up the seats.”

  “I grounded you until the New Year,” Dylan clarified, “which is not the same thing as forever. And the reason the dog went berserk is because she was crazy with worry about you.”

  “We were all worried.” Carrie started to reach out and muss the boy’s hair then stopped herself. He wasn’t a kid and he didn’t belong to her. Maybe she couldn’t help it if she’d quickly come to care about him, but she had to remember that her role in both Dylan and Sam’s lives was on the periphery. “I don’t hate you. Dylan doesn’t, either. His go-to emotion is anger, so if he’s angry it means he cares.”

  “That’s messed up,” Sam mumbled.

  “Not as messed up as going joyriding with a bunch of loser kids who’d been drinking.”

  “I thought you were done with the lecturing.” Sam flipped the page on his sketchbook when Carrie tried to take a closer look.

  “He also seems hungry.” Carrie slid into a chair across from Sam. “He’s always grumpy when he’s hungry.”

  “Tell me again why you stopped over,” Dylan said, deadpan, as he grabbed a stack of paper plates from the counter.

  “Because I care,” Carrie answered without thinking.

  Sam looked up at her, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Dylan paused, drawing in a sharp breath.

  She’d shocked both of them. Herself as well, but she didn’t mind at the moment.

  They needed someone or something to shock them out of their dispirited rut.

  Dylan cleared his throat. “I hope you like pepperoni.”

  “My favorite.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’ll have a Monster,” Sam said.

  “You’ll have water,” Dylan corrected.

  “I’m fifteen. I can choose for myself.”

  “I’ll have water, too,” Carrie announced.

  “Three waters it is,” Dylan said with a nod.

  Sam rolled his eyes again, but Carrie could see his small smile.

  “I’m sorry I ruined the time at the beach,” he said softly.

  “You could have told me you didn’t want to build the sandcastle.” She reached out and patted his hand. “I’m sorry if I encouraged you to do something you didn’t want to.”

  “I was having fun.” The boy shrugged, suddenly looking a lot more like a kid and less like a surly teen. “The beach is cool. Those guys showed up and I just felt... I don’t know.”

  “You felt peer pressure. It’s normal.”

  “You have to be strong enough to say no.” Dylan placed three glasses of water on the table and took the seat next to Carrie. “You have to not care what people think. At least be choosy about whose opinions matter.”

  Sam opened up the box and grabbed two slices of pizza. “Says the guy who drives a Porsche and wears a five-thousand-dollar watch.”

  Carrie gasped and grabbed Dylan’s wrist. “Is he serious?” She tugged up his sleeve and studied the oversize silver watch that encircled his wrist. It was classy and shiny and cost enough to pay the mortgage on the studio for two months.

  “It’s a vintage Rolex. I bought the car and the watch because of the quality. I don’t care what other people think.”

  Sam covered his mouth and coughed, making Carrie laugh because of the obvious swear word he muttered.

  “You’re not helping by encouraging him.” Dylan placed a slice of pizza on her plate when she released his arm.

  “She’s helping a lot.” Sam grinned. “I feel much better giving you grief than I did being on the receiving end of it. Can we talk more about how much you care what people think of you?”

  “Eat your pizza,” Dylan said through clenched teeth.

  “It’s a nice watch.” Carrie tried to sound supportive.

  Dylan gave her an annoyed look that made her dissolve into a fit of giggles.

  As they ate, she told Sam about the snowmaking machine she’d rented and the LED light projectors that would beam multicolored effects on the town hall and other buildings along Main Street as part of a stunning light display during the festival’s final weekend.

  “I’ve got a to-do list for you, too,” she said to Dylan after swallowing her last bite of pizza.

  “No way.” He shook his head. “I’m anti-Christmas ridiculousness.”

  “You volunteered to help.”

  “I was told to volunteer.”

  “Oh.” Carrie worked to keep her features neutral. She knew that, of course. So why did she keep forgetting that he wasn’t her ally?

  “The festival’s gonna be awesome,” Sam said, wiping a sleeve across his mouth. “I think we need a gingerbread town backdrop around the Santa Claus display.” He reached for the sketchbook that he’d set to one side of the table. “I’m not sure what it would take to build it, but I drew some initial plans.”

  “That’s a good idea, Sam.” Carrie reached under the table and poked Dylan’s leg. “It seems like it wouldn’t be too complex. I wonder who could help build something like that.”

  She could almost hear Dylan’s teeth grinding. “I’ll help.”

  “But you don’t even want to be involved,” Sam reminded him.

  “I do want to help you.” Dylan got up from the table and picked up the empty pizza box. “If you promise to stay out of trouble, I’ll make an effort with the festival.”

  “A real effort,” Carrie clarified. “Not one that includes snarky comments.”

  Dylan scoffed. “I don’t do snark.”

  “He says in a tone full of snark,” Sam said as he shared a grin with Carrie.

  “I’m going to separate the two of you,” Dylan threatened.

  Carrie gave Sam a high five. “He’s bothered. Mission accomplished.”

  She got up to help clear the glasses and plates. “I almost forgot that I brought cookies.” The bag she’d brought in sat on the edge of the counter.

  “We can have dessert while we finalize Sam’s plans for the gingerbread town,” Dylan said, pointing to the boy. “We’ll need to come up with a list of what we need from the hardware store. If I’m going to build this thing, you’re going to be my trusty assistant.”

  “Meredith asked if Sam would be willing to com
e out to the rescue and paint a new sign for her booth. She’s going to make a big adoption push with some of her animals during the festival. The timing is perfect just before Christmas.”

  “Sure,” Sam agreed. “Dylan can help.” The boy swallowed and hunched his shoulders, obviously embarrassed that he’d volunteered Dylan for additional work without asking, the way kids often did with their parents.

  “I’ll help,” Dylan said casually, even though Carrie understood by the look in his eyes that the moment was anything but casual for him.

  Her heart melted at his willingness to be there for Sam. Once again, she tried to focus on the reality of the situation. She and Dylan wanted different things in life and for Magnolia. But when the three of them were together, it felt like they had more in common than what separated them.

  Carrie was still learning what it felt like to have things in life that belonged to her, outside of her identity as Niall Reed’s daughter. Her sisters had been a blessing in helping her to achieve that goal, but their lives still seemed to have more than hers.

  Avery had only been in town for a couple of months, but already she’d found love with Gray and was making her mark as a small-town marketing whiz. Meredith had always marched to the beat of her own drum, and Carrie couldn’t imagine anything taking precedence over her devotion to the animals she rescued and rehomed.

  It had been a decade since Carrie’d had something to call her own. Dylan had been the one thing that felt like hers. Their relationship had made her feel special and seen in a way that still resonated. Obviously, since she couldn’t seem to keep her boundaries in place with him.

  They spent almost an hour working on plans for Sam’s planned structure and the timeline for building it. After Sam couldn’t control his yawning any longer, Dylan suggested the boy go to bed and rest after the day he’d had.

  To Carrie’s surprise, Sam had given her a quick hug on his way upstairs. He smelled like sweat and soap, and she couldn’t help but grieve for the mother he’d lost.

  “He really likes you,” Dylan said when they were alone again in the kitchen. “I haven’t seen him open up to many people the way he does with you.”

  “Being nonthreatening is my superpower,” she said, trying not to sound bitter. “I make everyone more comfortable that way.” She laughed softly as Daisy padded over and nudged her knee. “I’ve even won over your dog.”

  When Dylan didn’t respond, she glanced up at him. “You can’t be serious,” he told her.

  Carrie shrugged and looked away, suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his stare. Daisy trotted out of the kitchen when Sam called her name, her nails clicking on the hardwood stairs.

  “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m glad Sam likes me. He’s a great kid with so much potential. If he could only—”

  “We’re not talking about Sam.” Dylan took her hand, tugging her closer to him. “For your information, you are a huge threat to me.”

  She tried to laugh but it came out sounding like a croak. How was she supposed to think rationally when being near Dylan did this to her? She had a sudden empathy for the tiny moth, drawn to a flame without any hope for survival. That was who she was around this man but couldn’t find the strength to walk away. She craved the nearness of him, the way he added a spark to her life that hadn’t been there before.

  “Because I want something different for Magnolia than your grand plan?” She took a cue from Sam and rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t exactly call that a threat.”

  “This has nothing to do with the town,” he said, his voice pitch low, humming across her skin like a warm breeze. “You threaten my self-control at every turn. I don’t even know who I am when I’m with you. All I know is I want to be the man you need me to. We both know there’s a strong chance of me failing in that regard.” His gaze intensified on hers until she felt as if she were catching on fire from the inside out. “I don’t like to fail, Carrie, and that makes you my greatest threat.”

  She started to answer, having no idea how to respond to that kind of a declaration, when her phone suddenly chirped with a frantic series of text notifications.

  Dylan raised a thick brow. “Could it be Randall?”

  “I...need to check that,” she said on a rush of breath, trying to ignore the flash of amusement in his gaze.

  The texts came from Meredith, to both Carrie and Avery. A puppy mill had been discovered about thirty minutes outside town and her sister needed a recon team.

  “I’ve got to go.” She shook her head as she looked at Dylan. “It’s an emergency with Meredith. With the rescue.”

  To his credit, he nodded instead of arguing. “We’re not through here. Come back when you’re finished.”

  “It might be late.”

  “I don’t care. Please come back.”

  The soft note of pleading in the words undid her. “Okay,” she whispered and leaned in to kiss him. “I’ll text you when I know more about the time.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “YOU CAME BACK.”

  Dylan spoke the three simple words with a mix of what sounded like shock and relief.

  Carrie frowned as she stepped through the front door of his house. “You told me to,” she reminded him.

  “Yes, but I thought you agreed just to shut me up.”

  “That might be true. Also, I lied about having a boyfriend,” she blurted.

  “I suspected as much. I’m glad to be rid of Randall.”

  She laughed softly. “You might regret me coming over.” She pulled at the front of her cable-knit sweater. “I’m covered in dog hair and who knows what else. I stink and I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. Not exactly great company for—” what were they supposed to be doing here? “—anything.”

  “I have plenty of regrets in life,” he told her. “You here tonight could never be one of them.” He smoothed a piece of hair away from her face. “But you do smell a little gamey.”

  “Oh, no.” She started to turn toward the door. “My sisters told me to go home. Why didn’t I listen to—”

  Dylan wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her close. “I want you here in whatever shape you show up.”

  She resisted the urge to sag against him. Truly, she was exhausted. “I need a shower. The dogs were in filthy conditions. We bathed them when we got back to the rescue, but now I’m the one who’s a mess.”

  “A shower is easy enough to manage.”

  He took her hand and led her through the quiet house toward the master bedroom, which was on the main floor. He’d told her the house had come furnished, but the bedroom looked just as she’d imagined it would if he’d picked out the decor. The furniture was dark and solid, a pale gray comforter spread over the bed. Dylan’s bed.

  This was the part where Carrie’s lack of dating experience made her feel like a bumbling idiot. She stood silently in the doorway to the connected bathroom and watched. Was she supposed to start undressing while he turned on the water of the walk-in shower and gathered towels? Invite him to join her?

  The thought of showering with Dylan had nerves zipping along her skin. At the same time, her muscles ached from the work she’d done, and she could actually smell herself. Not quite a recipe for sexy times.

  “You look like you could fall asleep standing up,” he said, his tone laced with amusement and sympathy. “Tonight couldn’t have been easy.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve only gone on one other rescue with Meredith. It’s heartbreaking to see the conditions those animals live in before they get to her.”

  “She does remarkable work.”

  Carrie dashed away a tear when it tracked down her cheek. Great. Now she was crying. “I’m sorry,” she said automatically. “I’m just tired. This can’t be what you had in mind. I should go—”

  “Don’t apologize.” Steam began to rise in the
air, heating the small space. “The water’s hot so take as much time as you need. I want you here, Carrie. In any condition.”

  She nodded, afraid to speak around the emotions clogging her throat. The door clicked shut as Dylan exited the bathroom. She undressed and climbed into the shower. The water felt amazing and her tears mixed with the hot spray as she let herself succumb to the emotions from the night.

  She washed her hair and body quickly, planning to make her time in the shower efficient. But her limbs grew heavy as another round of tears bubbled up inside her. It wasn’t just about the animals. Every emotion she’d been running from caught up to her in one moment. She hadn’t broken down like this since her father’s death and the aftermath of learning his secrets. She’d kept moving, always moving. Her role had been helper, righting the wrongs Niall had inflicted on the town with his selfishness.

  She’d never allowed herself to stop and consider what she’d lost or what she’d never truly had in the first place. Why now? Why did it all have to come crashing down around her in Dylan’s shower?

  She should be having this breakdown in the privacy of her own home, preferably with a carton of ice cream in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

  Instead, she stood under the slowly cooling stream of water, trying to pull herself together. Carrie had no idea how long she remained there, but she startled when the glass door slid open a few inches and Dylan flipped off the water then pushed a towel toward her.

  “I think you’re ready,” he said from the other side of the shower door, his voice a gravelly rumble.

  She dried off and wrapped the fluffy towel around her, sliding the door fully open.

  His blue gaze met hers, searching her face in a way that made her know he’d heard her crying, even though she’d tried to muffle the sound of it.

  “I’m leaving a T-shirt and gym shorts on the sink for you,” he said. “Your clothes are in the wash.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.” She clutched the towel more tightly to herself. Goose bumps rose on her skin under his scrutiny. “This is... I’m not sure what to do next.”