“I’ve never seen it so busy.” Malcolm joined her as she stacked another sleeve of cups for cocoa. “Not even when your dad was in his heyday.”
“Magnolia is more than my father’s former domain,” she reminded him. “For too many years the people around here forgot that.”
“I think he wanted us to forget,” Mal said.
“That doesn’t excuse it.”
“True enough.” He waved to a family walking past and then turned to her. “Have the three of you decided what to do with the house?”
“My sisters and I can only manage one all-encompassing project at a time, Mr. Mayor,” Carrie said with a sigh. Since she’d discussed her childhood home with Dylan, thoughts of the house no longer seemed to bother her in the way they had before. “But the house belongs to Meredith. She’s in charge of its fate.”
“Come on now. Are you telling me that because he left you the farm property that you’re going to do what you want with no thought to her rescue?”
She sighed. “Of course not. Although the taxes on that property are going to be rough. Maybe if we can make some money on his house, that will offset it. But there’s so much debt.”
“I have a feeling you’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Remember, I saw your paintings. We all did.” He glanced toward the gallery. A steady stream of people walked in and out of the building.
“So what?” She shrugged. “That was cathartic.”
“You’re going to be a big deal.”
“I’m going to be a local artist in a small coastal town. When all the fanfare of this weekend dies down, I’ll put the sip-and-paint supplies back out and return to running my little business that pays the bills. I’ll paint in my spare time, and nothing will really change.”
“You haven’t been in there yet?”
“Um... I’ve been busy with other things.”
“Are we going to need to discuss excuses again?” the mayor asked with a deep chuckle. “Everyone’s talking about Niall Reed’s talented daughter.”
Satisfaction glimmered inside her like a newly polished diamond but was quickly sullied by the dark smoke of anxiety that rose inside her at the realization of how much of herself she’d exposed by displaying her new work in the gallery. She blinked back tears, not wanting Malcolm to see how his words affected her. “I need to check on Santa’s supply of candy canes,” she said brightly.
“Save me a dance tonight,” he told her. When the sun went down, they’d close the roller rink and turn it into a dance floor for a few hours. “This is truly an incredible feat you’ve pulled off. I know he wasn’t always the most gracious man, but your dad would have been proud.”
Carrie nodded even though she knew that wasn’t true. Her father would have hated this festival because it didn’t revolve around him.
She walked away from Malcolm but instead of heading toward the gingerbread workshop Dylan and Sam had built, she veered off down a path that led to a quiet corner of the square.
Her lungs expanded and contracted as she gulped in air, trying to stem the rising tide of panic inside her.
“Why is the star of the show not center stage?”
Dylan approached with a smile that faded when he took in her expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Have you been to the gallery?” she demanded.
“Yeah,” he answered slowly. “You’re the talk of the festival.”
“It was a mistake,” she whispered. “A horrible mistake.”
“What do you mean?” He reached out a hand, but she shrugged away from him. She already felt ready to explode out of her skin. The heat of Dylan’s touch might push her over the edge.
“I’m a novelty, a curiosity. Niall Reed’s wannabe artist daughter.” She threw up her hands, the residual paint stains around her fingertips making her want to cry with frustration. “Just like he always told me.”
“Stop. You know that’s not true, Carrie. You have talent. More than your father ever did. He knew it, too.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She gestured to the crowded park. “In Magnolia I’m always going to be dwarfed by both the good and bad of his reputation. Everything I do will be measured against him. I don’t want that.” Why couldn’t she move beyond the doubts and fears of her past and stop letting Niall Reed define her and her worth?
“Then change it.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Trust me, I know all about living down the past. You’re way tougher than me and people around here love you.”
This was her home. It had always been home to her, even when she’d thought of leaving. But how could she claim her life when the ghost of her father seemed to haunt her at every turn? She could no longer even make herself drive by the house where she’d grown up. It was one thing to be trying to fix her mistakes, but would she truly be able to build a life where her own light could shine?
“I don’t know if I can.” She hated to admit it, even to herself. But somehow with Dylan she couldn’t deny the truth.
“You won’t know until you try,” he said softly and laced his fingers with hers, not letting her pull away this time. “Neither of us will. What do you say we try together?”
“Together?”
“Go roller skating with me.”
She laughed. “Seriously? You just invited me roller skating?”
“I did.” He tugged her closer, his eyes clear and kind. “I’m going to request the cheesiest love song they have, and I want to hold your hand as we skate around that rink with all of Magnolia watching.” His lips grazed across the sensitive flesh of her earlobe. “I might even steal a kiss.”
“Oh.” Roller skating might seem like a trivial thing, but Carrie understood the magnitude of it. They’d be outing themselves as a couple.
Were they a couple?
She should deny it. No matter how he made her body feel and what her heart craved, she and Dylan wanted different things from life and for Magnolia. That hadn’t changed.
Being together in the quiet of night or in private moments was one thing. Allowing herself to be claimed by him publicly and claiming him in return would set tongues wagging even more than the response to hanging her paintings in the gallery.
She hadn’t even admitted the truth of her feelings for Dylan to her sisters.
His blue eyes went from confident to cautious as he watched her. She guessed the vulnerability in his gaze was also reflected in hers. What was the point of denying her feelings?
She’d fallen for Dylan again. Or maybe she’d never really let their love die in the first place. She might not be ready to say the words out loud, but she was willing to take a risk.
“You won’t let me fall?” she asked, squeezing his hand.
His breath released in a shallow whoosh, like he’d been holding it waiting for her answer. Like her response really mattered.
She wanted to matter to this man, the way he did to her.
He grinned, the way he used to when he was dragging her into some crazy adventure. “I haven’t been on roller skates since before I hit puberty.” His lips brushed against hers gently, both an expression of gratitude and a promise of things to come. “No promises I won’t be the one to fall. But I’ll catch you if we go down.”
“It’s a deal,” she told him, understanding the truth of those words. She’d spent far too long avoiding uncertainty because of her fear. So what if she landed on her face? The important part was a willingness to get back up.
Her heart pounded as she laced on the skates Dylan rented. The rink was perfect with the plywood sides, a colorful backdrop of cheery holiday scenes painted by her students at the high school. They might not have real snow in Magnolia, but she’d put her town’s holiday spirit up against any winter wonderland.
She waved to Sam, who skated around the rink with a group of teens, several of whom she recognized from her art club.
They were good kids, and it made her happy to see the boy finding his way in Magnolia. The whole scene in front of her made her happy. She’d done this. She and her sisters had brought this town together in a way that seemed impossible a few months earlier.
Her breath caught in her throat as she watched Dylan talking to the man deejaying inside the rink’s ticket booth. Was it possible her life in Magnolia felt complete because of his return?
She hadn’t been pining for the past decade, but now that she’d opened her heart to the possibility of happiness with Dylan again, it was difficult to imagine her life without him in it.
The fact that he’d pitched in to help make the festival a success despite his reservations meant something. He’d brought Sam here when he needed the boy to have a sense of home. That meant something, too.
Dylan might think he needed to change everything about this town, but he was the one changing, which would give them a chance together. If she admitted the truth to herself, she wanted that more than anything.
He winked as he turned back to her, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. He’d been handsome as a young man, all attitude and swagger with movie-star looks that made girls of all ages swoon.
When he’d picked Carrie, she hadn’t been able to believe it. Dylan had a reputation that was the polar opposite of hers. She’d been the consummate good girl while he was known by everyone and either revered or vilified depending on whether a person appreciated or hated his brand of rebellion. Now it seemed almost comical that their lives had gone in such different directions.
He’d made his mark on the world, become a success despite his troubled youth. His face and body had matured into strong planes and angles, the fine lines fanning from his eyes only making him more attractive. It was unfair how men so often got better-looking with age.
She’d stayed at home, her life small in many ways. But despite the resentment she had for her father, she still loved this town. Now Dylan did, too. He might not admit it yet, but she could tell. This place was important. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have brought Sam here.
That boy meant the world to him.
Both of them meant something to Carrie.
They were coming to another crossroads, and this time she had to believe they’d end up on the same side.
“They’re playing our song,” he said as he skated back to her.
“It’s wrong that you look hot in roller skates.” She stood up, wobbling a bit as she tried to balance.
“I need a comb for my back pocket,” he told her with a laugh.
She let out a yelp as her legs almost went out from under her.
Before she could fall, Dylan wrapped an arm around her waist. “Got you.”
“This is a terrible idea.” She did her best to stand. “I have no balance.”
“But you skated as a kid. It will come back to you.”
“I didn’t.” She shook her head. “Not once.”
“Everyone in town skated at the old rink before they tore it down.”
“Not me. Mom didn’t think it was dignified.”
“Do you have some tie to the royal family you’ve forgotten to mention?”
“She was a snob.”
“I remember that.”
Carrie tried to push away from him. “I’ll watch from the side.”
“This is the sweetheart skate.” He gripped her arms at the elbows and began to skate backward toward the rink’s entrance. “I need a partner.”
“Dylan, I can’t.” She locked her knees to keep them from shaking. Why was the thought of falling in front of an audience almost as scary as hanging her paintings in the gallery for everyone to see? “I thought I could, but it won’t work. It just—”
“I’ve got you,” he repeated against her ear. “Remember, we stay upright or go down together.”
She swallowed back her nerves and followed him out. Truly, when the man looked at her with that stupid, sexy twinkle in his eyes, he could get her to do just about anything.
Sam called out a few words of encouragement as he sped past. “Is ice skating this scary?” she whispered.
“Worse,” Dylan confirmed. “Because when you fall, it’s cold on your ass.”
“Tell me again why I thought this was a good idea.” She gripped his arm like it was the last lifeboat on the Titanic and tried to concentrate on his warmth, the way the strength of his body supported her still-wobbly legs.
“Look around, Carrie. You’ve created a winter wonderland in Magnolia.”
“It’s pretty cool,” she admitted. “But it wasn’t all me. Everyone pitched in to help. Even you. That’s how it works in this community. You understand that now, right? Magnolia is special just the way it is.”
“One lap already,” he told her instead of answering.
She looked around and realized they’d made it around the rink, and she hadn’t fallen. In fact, she was slowly getting the hang of skating. No way would she let go of Dylan’s arm, and he continued to hold her close. But she started to relax and enjoy the feeling of the cool breeze across her skin as they skated.
“This song,” she murmured as the music changed to another ballad, this one a sweet track by Norah Jones. “I love it.”
“I remember,” he said, his voice tickling her ear. “That’s why I requested it.”
They’d danced to this song at her senior prom. Carrie hadn’t brought Dylan although they’d been dating several months at that point. Her parents had forbidden it, and she hadn’t been strong enough to defy them.
Instead, she’d gone with a group of friends, telling herself she didn’t care about not having anyone to slow dance with when the time came.
But Dylan had surprised her, sneaking into the dance in his rented tux. She’d been shocked because the weeks leading up to the prom, he’d done nothing but make fun of school functions.
He’d come because it was important to her. If she hadn’t been in love with him before then, that night had sealed the deal.
Here she was a decade later, her heart undeniably his again despite her best efforts to keep it guarded.
“Are you ready to go it alone?” he asked and the panic that gripped her was mortifying. He was talking about skating, she realized, not life in general.
Even so, she wanted to protest as he loosened his arm from her grasp. The rink was crowded with skaters and even more people watched from the square. She understood that many of them were watching her and Dylan.
But she put aside her worries about what other people thought as she focused all her concentration on an attempt not to fall on her face.
“I’ve got this,” she answered because she wasn’t going to let fear—even a silly fear about roller skating—dictate her life any longer.
Dylan released her and for a moment her legs stiffened, and she thought she was going down.
“Relax,” he reminded her. “I’m right here.”
She forced herself to take a breath and concentrated on the music and the rhythm of moving her feet. She had no delusion about looking graceful, but she managed an entire loop around the perimeter of the rink without tripping or falling or in any way making a spectacle of herself.
The longer she skated, the more confident she became. How many other trivial things could she master if she tried?
“I can’t ride a bike, either,” she announced when Dylan skated close again.
His eyes widened but he didn’t make fun of her. “Do you want to learn?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I want to try everything.”
He reached for her hand, the hold gentle but still supportive. “I like the sound of that.”
Just then a trio of prepubescent kids whizzed by, skating far too fast and darting in and out of other skaters.
“Slow down,” a father holding hands with his young daughter called.
The last speedster immediately slowed, his left foot kicking back and catching the edge of Carrie’s skate.
She wobbled and Dylan moved to pull her close, but it was too late. The toe of her skate caught, and she pitched forward. She closed her eyes and instinctively held out her hands so she didn’t actually land on her face. Instead of hitting the hard floor, she was yanked to one side and ended up sprawled across Dylan.
The fall had knocked the air from her lungs, and she worked to make her breathing normal again. People continued to skate around them, giving the pair a wide berth.
“You okay?” he asked, smoothing a hand across her face.
“You dove under me,” she said, stunned.
He smiled, almost shyly. “I wasn’t joking when I said we were falling together.”
“I love you,” she whispered, unable to stop the words. Then she kissed him, not willing to give him a chance to respond.
At this moment she didn’t need to know how he felt. He’d told her everything in the simple gesture of catching her.
The kiss quickly turned heated and only the echo of cheering and wolf whistles forced her to end it. She scrambled to her feet, unwilling to let go of Dylan’s hand. They made their way to the edge of the rink, where Avery and Gray stood with his daughter, Violet.
“That was subtle,” Avery said with a grin.
“I was being spontaneous,” Carrie answered as Dylan draped an arm over her shoulders.
Her sister nodded. “As everyone in town will soon hear.”
“Nice work on the additional generators,” Gray told Dylan. “They made a big difference when we tested the lights again.”
“No problem.” Dylan looked uncomfortable with the praise. “I bet you’re an expert skater,” he told Violet. If Avery or Gray noticed the quick subject change, they didn’t point it out.
The little girl lifted up one foot to show off her pink glittery roller skates. “I got my own pair that go super-fast.”
The Merriest Magnolia Page 22