She lifted her chapped hands to her mouth and blew on them in a feeble attempt to warm herself.
“Another side hustle?” a deep voice asked from behind her.
The butterflies in her stomach took flight once again as she turned to find Dylan staring at her, one corner of his mouth curved up in amusement.
Carrie resisted the urge to groan out loud. Of course, he looked like the picture of alpha male hotness with the black sweater and leather jacket that covered his broad shoulders. His blue eyes looked even more magnetic against the dark green of the pine tree background.
On the other hand, she felt like a drowned rat. She’d pulled her hair into a low ponytail that she’d tucked into the back of her jacket. One of the boys had given her a hardware-store baseball cap to shield her face from the drizzle. She was cold, tired and slightly mortified at her current situation. Dylan’s belief that she did too much for the town was unflagging, and schlepping Christmas trees on a dreary afternoon confirmed exactly what he thought about her. All things considered, this wasn’t her best moment.
“I’m helping a friend.” She adjusted the brim of her cap. “Don’t judge.”
“No judgment,” he assured her then leaned in closer. “Although I’m wondering why you’re nice to everyone in town except me.”
“I’m nice to you.”
“You’ve been ghosting me all week.” His tone teased, but she had to look away when a sliver of vulnerability flashed in his gaze.
She sniffed. “How do you even know the word ghosting?”
“Sam explained it. Even he felt bad for me.”
Guilt stabbed at her chest. “I’m not trying to blow you off. Things are busy and being with you is...” She broke off, searching for the right word.
“Amazing?” Dylan suggested.
“Complicated.”
“I’m guessing you’re going to tell me your life is already complicated enough.”
“In so many ways.”
His eyes clouded over in a way that matched the sky above them. He opened his mouth, but Carrie was left wondering whether he’d planned to argue with her or say farewell because Sam appeared through a gap in the aisle of trees.
“I found one,” he announced before his gaze tracked to Carrie. “Oh, hey, Carrie. I didn’t know you worked here, too. You have more jobs than anyone I know.”
She pasted on a bright smile and turned to the boy. “I’m helping a friend.”
Sam nodded. “You’re a solid friend to stand out in the wet and cold.”
“The best,” Dylan murmured under his breath so only she could hear him.
“You’ve found the perfect tree?” she asked the teenager. “I thought you guys didn’t want to deal with shedding pine needles.”
“We’re getting into the Christmas spirit,” Dylan said, moving nearer to her to let another couple pass. She almost swayed into him just to be enveloped in his heat but forced herself to remain still.
Sam gave Dylan a funny look then grinned at Carrie. “He made me go tour the old textile mill with some tool architect my dad used to work with, and now he feels bad because the guy was such a total butt head.”
“Can you ever give me a break?” Dylan asked Sam with a sigh.
“Doubtful. Come and see the tree before someone else picks it. Carrie can give her opinion, too. I know she’ll side with me.”
“I’m sure,” Dylan agreed, placing a hand on Carrie’s back to guide her forward. “There’s nothing the two of you seem to love more than banding together to annoy me.”
“You deserve it.” Carrie threw him a sharp glare over her shoulder. “I thought we agreed you were putting plans for Camp Beverly Hills Magnolia on hold until the New Year. There are companies interested in developing the factory location into something more than fancy housing if you’ll give them a chance. We’re going to prove to you that the town is great just the way it is.”
“We both know that’s not true,” he countered. “If it was you wouldn’t be constantly scrambling to make sure everyone is taken care of around here. Before you find another excuse to vilify me, today’s meeting has been set up since I signed the contract on that property. I’m not denying that I make a perfect villain, but I’m not violating anything.”
It was strange how much Carrie wanted—or maybe needed—Dylan to be the bad guy. She clearly needed some outer force to help her keep up her resolve to stay away from him.
She’d managed it, barely, for a few days, but running into him this way made her long to return to those precious nights in his arms and his bed—any part of his life she could have or when the intimacy they shared took away all that stood between them. Also, her heart ached at the thought of the role in which they’d both so willingly cast him.
“You’re not the bad guy,” she said softly as they stopped in front of a clump of trees. Unable to resist, she covered his hand with hers, squeezing gently, her body flushing from the innocent touch. He had every reason to be frustrated. There was no denying she’d been avoiding him, like she’d used him for the great sex and then walked away without looking back.
As if it was possible to get enough of Dylan.
“What do you think?” Sam asked as he hefted a giant Douglas fir to its full height.
God love teenagers for being so blissfully self-centered. Sam didn’t give any indication that he’d picked up on the sparks flying between her and Dylan.
Dylan laughed and shifted closer to Carrie. “I think we’re going to have a Griswold family Christmas trying to wrestle that thing into the rental house.”
Sam’s brows furrowed. “Are the Griswolds friends of yours from Boston? Tell me they aren’t like that Steven dude.”
Carrie smothered a smile as Dylan gaped at the kid. “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. It’s a movie. The best Christmas movie ever.”
“I thought you hated everything about Christmas because it’s a holiday engineered to elicit fake emotions,” Sam said in a perfect imitation of Dylan’s rumbly tone.
“I’m not sure hate is the right word.” Dylan massaged a hand along the back of his neck and Carrie noticed color rising to his cheeks. “That might have been too strong.”
She’d fallen for the tough bad boy a decade earlier, but this version of Dylan—the “somewhat uncertain father figure willing to try anything for Sam” guy—was almost irresistible.
“So this Griswold movie is the best?” Sam asked.
“Yes,” Dylan said at the same time Carrie shook her head.
They both turned to look at her.
“Elf is the clear winner. Or maybe Miracle on 34th Street. There are so many classics.”
“I’ve seen Elf,” Sam told her. “Will Ferrell is hilarious.”
“Nothing compares to Chevy Chase,” Dylan argued. “We need to watch Christmas Vacation.” He nudged Carrie. “You should join us so you’ll be convinced.”
“We can watch after we decorate the tree,” Sam said with a hopeful smile. “I found a box of ornaments in the basement along with the fake tree we’re not using.”
Dylan shook his head. “You know that tree actually fits? This one is way too big.”
“The bigger, the better.” Sam’s smile turned cheeky. “Let’s take the big one home.”
Carrie glanced over at Dylan’s sharp intake of breath. He opened his mouth, closed it again and then shrugged. “Fine. The Rockefeller Center-size Christmas tree it is.”
As if on cue, Zak, one of the high school helpers, rounded the corner. “You buying the Sasquatch tree?” he asked with a nod, looking between Sam and the adults standing a few feet away.
Carrie held up her hands. “I’m just going to ring them up.”
“Y’all must have one of those great rooms with the vaulted ceiling,” Zak said, lifting his chin to take in the top of the tree.
Sam grinned but didn’t answer.
“Something like that,” Dylan said.
“I’m gonna need extra rope and another set of hands to get this monster out.”
“I can help,” Sam offered, leaning the tree back against the others. Carrie had a feeling he didn’t want to give Dylan a chance to change his mind.
“Let’s head over to the register and I’ll ring you up,” she told him.
“I’m probably going to lose my security deposit because of that tree.”
Carrie laughed and headed toward the makeshift counter where the register was situated. “I never thought you’d agree to Sasquatch.”
“Sam called our house home,” he said, and she could hear the emotion threading through his words.
Her heart seemed to skip a beat in response. Who knew vulnerability could be so damn sexy?
“You’ll make it work,” she told him.
They were silent as she processed his credit card, an AmEx Black. Her father had tried and failed for years to qualify for that level of plastic but had always been denied. It should have been a warning to Carrie that his finances weren’t nearly as flush as he pretended. Dylan didn’t seem to even register that his card was something special.
“What time are you finished here?” he asked as he took the credit card from her, his finger brushing against hers and sending electricity dancing along her skin.
She glanced at her watch and then to the sky. Anywhere except Dylan’s blue eyes. “The tree stand closes at six. I’ll be finished shortly after that unless Lily comes back sooner.”
“Then you can join us for dinner as well as tree trimming and movie viewing.”
“I don’t know.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, the cold that had disappeared standing next to Dylan seeping into her bones again. “It’s been a long day. I need a shower and to check on the litter of foster kittens I have at the moment.”
“Dinner at seven?” Dylan asked as if she hadn’t offered up the lamest, spinsterish excuses known to man. Washing her hair and taking care of cats? Could she be any more of a cliché?
She should decline the invitation. Spending time with Dylan made her feel too much. It made her want too much.
“Okay,” she answered after a moment, both because she liked spending time with him, and she didn’t want to be alone. “But only so that I can make sure you don’t convince Sam that Christmas Vacation is better than Elf.”
Dylan’s eyes crinkled at the corners. Would he call her out on the lie? Was it totally obvious that she couldn’t resist him?
“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he answered and then leaned in and brushed a quick kiss over her lips.
“You can’t kiss me in public,” she whispered.
He flashed a cheeky grin. “I just did.”
It was pointless to argue with him, so she simply made a face then went to greet another family approaching the tree stand.
She congratulated herself for not turning back to look at Dylan again. As if that made her any less aware of him or his effect on her.
As if anything could.
* * *
DYLAN GLANCED AT the clock for what felt like the millionth time in the past ten—now eleven—minutes. Seven-eleven.
Carrie was eleven minutes late. Did that mean she wasn’t coming? His phone remained dark and silent on the kitchen counter. A direct contrast to the light parade of disappointment flashing inside him.
Had he pushed her too hard about coming over? Given her no choice but to ghost him once again?
Why did it matter anyway? He didn’t need her, or any woman, in his life. His hands were more than full with running the business and worrying over Sam.
Since the accident, he’d taken over the bulk of responsibilities in the company that had previously been split between his uncle and cousin.
In addition to his own duties and remotely, since he and Sam had moved to Magnolia.
There was no time for distraction, and Carrie sidetracked him on every level.
He watched the clock as another minute passed.
The doorbell rang a moment later. Before Dylan had gotten to his feet, the sound of teenage footsteps thundered down the stairs and Sam ran past him.
“We need to eat fast,” the kid called over his shoulder, “so we can start decorating.”
Worth it, Dylan thought to himself as he followed Sam to the front door. Even if their enormous, ill-fitting tree shed every one of its needles before the New Year, it would be worth it for Sam’s excitement tonight.
Dylan still didn’t believe in Christmas magic or any of that garbage, but he couldn’t deny the impact the holidays were having on Sam.
Just like he couldn’t deny Carrie’s effect on him.
He felt his heart settle as she stepped into the house, as if she were some kind of weighted blanket or special lovey that could help ease any anxiety.
Then he noticed the oversize cardboard box in her arms and heard the tiny mewling sound coming from inside the plastic carrier balanced on top.
“Is that a kitten?” Sam asked, his eyes going wide. Daisy, who’d trotted to the door at Sam’s heels, gave a low growl then sniffed at the box.
“I’m not trying to foist him off on you,” she told Dylan with an apologetic smile even as she gestured for Sam to lift the carrier from her. “Barnaby is why I’m late. He got stuck behind the radiator and it took forever to coax him out. He was limping a little. I called Meredith, but she said just to keep an eye on him.”
“Do we get to keep him?”
Dylan felt his eyes go wide. If Carrie wanted to get back at him for pressuring her to come over tonight, she’d found the perfect way.
“He’s going home with me after the movie. I promise.”
“Unless he’s happier here,” Sam told her. “He might be better with us. We have vents not radiators.”
Dylan snorted as he saw her try to hide her smile. “You’re pretty convincing when you want something,” she told the teenager.
“No doubt,” Dylan agreed. He took the box from Carrie’s hands. “Let’s get the wee beastie set up in the laundry room for now. I’m not sure the dog is going to like sharing her space.”
“Daisy will love Barnaby,” Sam said emphatically, and Dylan shook his head.
It truly was amazing how quickly the boy could turn on the charm when it served him.
The dog yipped as the tiny animal hissed inside its container.
“I’m sorry,” Carrie said quietly as they followed Sam to the back of the house. “I should have just canceled.”
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t have let you out of tree trimming that easy. I can handle a kitten more easily than I can deal with tinsel.”
They set up the kitten with the litter box Carrie had brought, a few towels and a water and food dish.
Sam was reluctant to leave the baby, but finally joined them in the kitchen.
“I need to Google how to introduce a cat and dog to each other,” he said around a bite of the Chinese food Dylan had ordered.
“Slowly is the most important part,” Carrie told him. “I’m sure Meredith would be thrilled if you guys wanted to foster either a litter of kittens or even an adult cat. That way you could see how Daisy does with a new animal.”
“That’s a great idea,” Sam said.
“You got the gigantic Christmas tree,” Dylan said. “Don’t push your luck, kid.” He pointed his chopsticks at Carrie. “And no encouragement from the peanut gallery.”
“None at all,” she answered immediately, holding up her hands.
He narrowed his eyes as he realized her fingers were crossed. Then she flashed him a teasing smile and winked and he felt happiness skitter along his spine.
Sam took one more small bite of Szechuan beef then pushed back from the table.
“Y
ou hardly ate a thing,” Dylan complained, stunned at how naturally the words tumbled from his mouth. Damn. He sounded like a parent.
If Sam thought the comment strange coming from Dylan, he didn’t let on. Instead, he shrugged. “I’m sick of Chinese. It’s that or carryout burgers all the time. This town needs more options.”
“Have you tried Il Rigatone?” Carrie asked with a sweet smile for Dylan.
“The place he’s closing down?” Sam shook his head. “It’s supposed to be gross and dirty.”
Dylan cringed as Carrie’s eyes narrowed. He was going to pay for that offhand remark. “You’re getting Italian tomorrow night,” Carrie told the teenager. “It’s the best restaurant in Magnolia, and they deliver.”
“Seriously?”
“Not the best,” Dylan argued.
“Without a doubt,” Carrie told him.
“Can I go see Barnaby now?”
Just as Sam asked the question, there was a commotion from the back of the house. A door banging against the wall followed by a series of high-pitched barks.
“Crap,” Dylan muttered, jumping up from his seat to race after Sam, Carrie on his heels.
He skidded to a stop at the doorway of the laundry room when Sam blocked him from entering. He hoped the boy wouldn’t be traumatized for life by whatever they found in the room.
“Good girl,” Sam murmured.
Dylan peered over Sam’s shoulder at the crazy scene in front of them.
“This is what you call a Christmas miracle,” Carrie whispered.
Daisy was sprawled on her belly, chin resting on the tile floor, staring at the kitten, who swiped at her nose with a tiny paw.
Dylan held his breath as Barnaby got bolder, nipping at Daisy’s snout, then head butting the dog and rubbing his fuzzy head against hers.
“Should we be terrified?” he asked Carrie under his breath.
“Daisy loves him,” Sam said. “I knew she would.”
The dog whined softly as if confirming the boy’s words.
Suddenly, Dylan felt the gentle touch of Carrie’s fingers brushing the side of his hand.
He pressed two fingers to his chest as some of the walls he’d spent so much time building around his heart began to crumble. Not that this had anything to do with Christmas. Or miracles. Or falling in love for a second time with Carrie Reed.
The Merriest Magnolia Page 17