The Merriest Magnolia Page 6

  “Dylan has a point,” someone called from the side of the room, and he watched as the color drained from Carrie’s face. Damn. He might not want a fight, but it seemed he couldn’t help but pick one with her. “This town needs fresh suggestions.”

  “The Merry Magnolia Festival is a good idea,” Avery said, rising from her chair to stand next to Carrie. “It’s new and exciting. He doesn’t have anything better to offer, and all of you know how much Carrie cares about Magnolia. You can’t punish her because of what Niall did.”

  “And don’t forget he wants to price us all out of our own town,” Meredith added, continuing to glare at Dylan.

  “Calm down, everyone,” Malcolm said when people erupted into buzzing grumbles. “I have a solution that will work for all of us.” He pointed toward the Reed sisters. “Carrie’s festival will bring people to town for the holidays, and Dylan assures us he wants the best for Magnolia. I propose we make them the co-directors of this year’s event. The first annual Merry Magnolia Festival.”

  Dylan pressed two fingers to his chest. What the hell was going on inside him? It felt like a million butterflies had just taken flight. Of course, the mayor’s proposal was monumentally stupid on several levels.

  Most important, Carrie hated him. Even now, she gaped at Malcolm as if he’d suggested she bed down with a venomous snake. Dylan wanted to destroy the last vestiges of her father’s reputation in the town, simply to prove that he could. That put them on opposite sides of everything. Enemies.

  Yet, his heart hammered in a crazy rhythm at the thought of spending time with her. Even if that time needed to be focused on the nonsense of celebrating crass commercialization and sham holiday spirit.

  “No way,” Carrie told Malcolm, rising to her feet again. “He doesn’t care about this town or about Christmas. We don’t need him.” She looked around the crowd as if entreating them to take her side. “I don’t want him.”

  Well, that pretty much summed it up.

  But Mal only shook his head. “We’re on a roll with reinvigorating things around here, but Dylan’s company is going to be part of Magnolia’s future whether you like it or not.” He paused then added, “Whether any of us want it that way. This is what’s best for the town, and that’s my priority.”

  The murmurs of assent surprised Dylan. Maybe the town was willing to give him a chance even if Carrie wasn’t. He cleared his throat. “I’d be honored to help with the festival,” he lied. “It will give me a chance to get to know the community and determine how I can make the biggest impact to benefit everyone.”

  Carrie’s gaze narrowed on him, but she nodded. “Fine. Dylan and I will work together,” she muttered. “Can we adjourn now?”

  The mayor gave her a wide smile. “We look forward to hearing about all of your exciting suggestions that will make this holiday season the best Magnolia has ever seen.” He drew in a deep breath. “Meeting adjourned.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  CARRIE FORCED HERSELF to smile and nod as her friends surrounded her, offering words of encouragement and pledging to help with whatever she needed to make her plan a success. The Merry Magnolia Festival would be spread across the weekends leading up to Christmas, with each weekend building on the others as far as activities and themes.

  They wanted to encourage residents and visitors to visit downtown Magnolia multiple times throughout the holiday season. The events would kick off with a tree lighting on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Shops and restaurants were scheduled to stay open late to accommodate the crowds they hoped would materialize. From there, the activities and events got bigger each weekend, from visits with Santa to concerts and a craft fair. She continued to rent lights and inflatables and create background sets for the town square. By the time Christmas rolled around, downtown Magnolia would give the North Pole a run for its money.

  “Are you okay?” Avery whispered as the crowd started to disperse.

  “Fine,” Carrie grumbled. “This is actually the best possible outcome.”

  “How do you figure?” Meredith demanded, glancing over her shoulder. “Seems to me the best outcome would be if I kidnapped Dylan Scott and shoved him into an abandoned shed somewhere.”

  “You scare me sometimes,” Avery told their younger sister.

  Meredith grinned. “I scare myself, too, but that’s how I like it.”

  Carrie shook her head. “Dylan hates Christmas,” she told the other two women. “He always has. I’m going to make sure that becomes clear in the next month while I figure out how to prove his proposal for the town needs to be stopped. I don’t trust him, and the best way to derail whatever scheme he has planned is to get close to him.”

  “Can you handle that?” Avery asked.

  “He did a number on you back in the day,” Meredith added as if Carrie didn’t remember the heartbreak he’d caused her.

  “That’s all in the past,” she assured her sisters with more confidence than she felt.

  After saying goodbye to Malcolm, they walked out into the late-November night together.

  “You know you aren’t in this alone,” Avery said as they paused at her car parked along the curb. “We’ll help with whatever you need. Gray will, too. He can rally some of the guys from the station.”

  “Firefighters under the mistletoe,” Meredith murmured, rubbing her hands together. “Yes, please.”

  Carrie laughed, grateful as ever that she had her sisters in her life. “You both are busy with your own lives. I’ve got this.”

  Avery’s brow furrowed as she studied Carrie. “Just a reminder that you aren’t responsible for the mistakes your father made.”

  “Our father,” Carrie made the habitual change without an iota of hesitation. Carrie might be the only one who’d truly known Niall Reed as her dad while he was alive, but she liked the feeling of connection it gave her to share him with these women.

  “More like sperm donor,” Meredith said with an eye roll. “But no use arguing about that fact once again.”

  “Do you want a ride home?” Avery asked Carrie as she took out her key fob. The hulking truck Meredith drove was parked behind Avery’s Lexus.

  “Thanks, but I’ll walk.” Carrie hugged each of her sisters. “I could use the fresh air.”

  “Smells like rain.” Meredith tipped her head up to look at the sky, dark and cloudy without any moon or stars visible.

  “I’m good with rain now as long as it’s clear when we get closer to the festival weekend.” She leaned in closer. “I’m thinking of renting a snowmaking machine.”

  “Even you can’t control the weather and you do realize this is the South,” Meredith said, laughing. “We rarely get snow. I can’t remember ever having a white Christmas.”

  “Exactly,” Carrie agreed. “Think of how special it will be if we can manufacture it.”

  Neither of her sisters seemed convinced, but there was time for that. Carrie said goodbye and then started down the sidewalk. She waved as both Avery and Meredith drove past.

  “Manufacturing Christmas,” a deep voice called from the shadowy alley between two buildings. “You really are a chip off the old block.”

  “Do you have some sinister plan to give me a heart attack?” she demanded as Dylan appeared from the darkness. “Or have you just taken up stalking in your spare time?”

  “Stalking for sure,” he agreed easily, falling into step beside her.

  She gave him her nastiest side-eye. “What are you doing?”

  “Walking you home. It’s late.”

  “Unnecessary,” she muttered, even as a thrill passed through her. She’d gotten used to taking care of herself so the idea of Dylan waiting for her in the darkness sent a shiver of pleasure running along her spine. Of course, Avery had just offered her a ride, but this felt different.

  Things always had with Dylan, and that was dangerous.

 
; “I want to make fake snow, but the holiday spirit is genuine.” She crossed her arms over her chest when their hands accidentally brushed. “Magnolia is going to become a premier winter destination. We managed it in the fall and if the town has a strong holiday season, we can keep the momentum going into spring and summer...” She blew out a breath, excitement skittering across her skin. “I’m going to turn things around.”

  “I’m going to turn things around,” he corrected, and she couldn’t tell if he was teasing or goading her into lashing out at him. “In the meeting it sounded like you’d done your share of online stalking. You know how I run my business.”

  “Like you have no soul. You plow forward with no consideration for the history or essence of the community.”

  “That’s not true,” he protested. “We make things better.”

  “Let’s agree to disagree that different isn’t always better,” she said, and they fell into a silence that should have been awkward but felt almost companionable.

  “You’re taking this whole holiday festival thing really seriously,” he told her as they reached the corner of the block where she would turn off for her house.

  Carrie couldn’t help grinning at him. “Yeah, I am. It’s going to be the best ever.”

  Dylan smiled. “Who are you and what have you done with the shy girl I used to know?”

  “A lot has changed since you left.”

  He leaned closer, just an inch, but her body went on high alert. “Including you.”

  If only she’d outgrown her reaction to this man. She didn’t want this, the tightening in her belly and the way her breath caught as his gaze fell to her lips. Especially not if they were going to work together. The last thing she needed was to let down her guard with Dylan.

  It would be like inviting the big, bad wolf to tea.

  “I have a boyfriend,” she blurted.

  Dylan blinked. “Oh.”

  “It’s kind of new,” she continued, ignoring the fact that in this case new was another word for nonexistent. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this...”

  One thick brow rose. “Because you were looking at me like you wanted me to kiss you.”

  She sniffed and took a step back. “I was not. Maybe you’re confused because you were staring at my mouth like you were going to maul it.”

  “Maul?” He rolled his eyes. “Your memory must be going bad because I don’t maul women. I have it on good authority that I’m a damn fine kisser.”

  Her limbs went heavy as she thought about the blissful hours she’d spent kissing Dylan. Damn fine didn’t begin to cover his skill in that area. But she had no intention of admitting that to him.

  “Average,” she said with a shrug.

  His mouth dropped open. “In your dreams.”

  “I have vivid dreams. You couldn’t possibly compete.” His pupils darkened and she wondered what the heck she was thinking goading him on in this way. It was like waving a red flag in front of an irritated bull.

  Suddenly, he stepped in front of her, turning to face her so quickly that she almost ran into him. “I’d bet my last dollar that I can outperform your wildest dreams. And we’d both enjoy every moment of it.”

  He stepped even closer and she resisted the urge to back up. Stand her ground. That was the only choice with Dylan. “We’ll never know because you chose a check over me.”

  The words spilled from her mouth before she could stop them, but she regretted it almost immediately. She didn’t want Dylan to think she still cared about how he’d broken her heart. No way. Not ever.

  His gaze hardened and he moved away from her. “We never would have lasted anyway,” he said and as much as she wanted to argue, she nodded.

  “Right.”

  “And you have a boyfriend.”

  “Um... I do.”

  “Who’s a better kisser than me?”

  “He is.”

  Dylan studied her for a long moment, his mouth curving into an almost-smile that did funny things to her insides.

  “Will he be helping with your little winter carnival plan, too?” His big shoulders rolled as if adjusting the tension they held.

  “It’s not little,” she argued automatically. “And he lives in Charleston.”

  “A long-distance love affair? How long have the two of you been dating?”

  Carrie narrowed her eyes because it felt like Dylan was asking questions even though he didn’t believe a word she said to him. “Six months,” she told him. “He’s very kind. And refined. Gentle. A true gentleman.”

  “Sounds boring as hell. What’s his name?”

  “Randall,” she blurted.

  “You’re dating a guy named Randall?” Dylan sniffed. “Is he eighty years old?”

  “Stop.” She held up a hand and pushed her palm against his chest.

  Big mistake. The instant she felt the hard muscles of his body and the heat coming from him, need pooled low in her belly. She drew back her hand and glanced up to find him staring down at her again, nostrils flared and color high on his cheeks.

  “I have to go,” she murmured, desperately searching for control. Purchase over her desire. A cold shower. Anything to stem the tide of yearning she felt for this man. “And call Randall.”

  His lips quirked. “Tell him I said hi.”

  “Su-sure,” she stammered. “I’ll talk to Malcolm, too. He couldn’t have been serious about us working together.”

  “Your mayor seems like he’s always serious when it comes to this town.”

  Yeah. “We’ll figure it out anyway,” she insisted. “You can’t want to work with me any more than I do with you.”

  She expected an immediate agreement, but Dylan only quirked a brow. “Sweet dreams, Carrie,” he said, his voice thick and rich like warm honey. “You be sure not to think of me while you’re asleep. But if you do, know that real life would be even better.”

  She bit down on the inside of her cheek to suppress a groan. “Never,” she told him and stomped past, knowing her dreams would be nothing but that irritating man.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON Dylan pulled into the Magnolia High parking lot with a knot of anger balling in his stomach.

  He’d gotten the call from Principal Johnson twenty minutes earlier. Sam had been caught vandalizing the building during fifth period, when he should have been in algebra.

  Was the kid trying to get kicked out of yet another school?

  After turning off the ignition, Dylan rubbed two fingers against his temples, which had started to throb in a familiar way when it came to dealing with Sam’s defiance. He wanted to be a patient, understanding guardian. Sam had been through something no child of any age should have to deal with.

  But his need to act out, while normal according to the therapist they’d gone to during the months after his parents’ deaths, was going to impact the boy’s future if it didn’t stop.

  The therapist had agreed that a fresh start might help Sam recover. He seemed to want to pull away from everything that reminded him of his family or who he’d been before their accident.

  It had been less than a week that he’d been enrolled at Magnolia High. Dylan had tried to remain upbeat about the close-knit school, listing off the clubs and activities he’d read on the website. He hoped like hell Sam didn’t get any of the teachers he’d had during his time there. It wouldn’t be good for the kid if they remembered him.

  Now it seemed like Sam was hell-bent on not only living up to but also surpassing Dylan’s dreadful reputation at school.

  Taking several deep breaths, Dylan climbed the stairs to the school. He checked in with security, trying not to cringe as the burly officer behind the glass gave him a cool once-over. After the guy buzzed him into the locked front entrance, Dylan entered the administrative office.

  He’d b
een naive to think that Sam would have a smooth transition but refused to give up hope that the boy would take life’s lemons and make something drinkable with them. “Mr. Johnson is waiting for you in his office,” the secretary told him, her tone clipped.

  Two days and Sam had already been pegged as a troublemaker. Dylan hated that. He wanted to show these judgmental educators Sam’s baby photos and all the videos Kay had taken to document the precious milestones in her son’s life.

  Sam had always been a shy kid, quiet and introspective but with a sweet smile and easygoing temperament that had made everyone in his life love him. His parents and grandpa had doted on him, and Dylan was embarrassed to admit he’d been jealous of the boy on occasion, unable to fathom what it would have been like to grow up surrounded by so much love and affection.

  Only to have it stolen by a tragic accident.

  He opened the door to Tim Johnson’s office and the wiry-thin man, who looked to be in his late fifties, gestured him forward. Dylan’s gaze tracked to Sam, who sat hunched in one of the upholstered chairs in front of the desk. The boy didn’t bother to turn around, but Dylan saw his shoulders stiffen as if he knew who entered the room without looking.

  “Thank you for joining us, Mr. Scott,” the principal said. “Please have a seat. I’m Tim Johnson, and I apologize that we’re meeting under these circumstances.”

  “Call me Dylan.” He placed a hand on Sam’s back. “You okay, bud?”

  “Never better,” the kid muttered, although his body language told a different story. Sam never showed weakness to the world. It was something Dylan appreciated in the boy because, for better or worse, he had the same tendency.

  The principal cleared his throat. “I hope that isn’t the case. Sam has committed a serious infraction, and despite the extenuating circumstances with which he comes to us, we need to ensure that nothing like this occurs again.”

  He adjusted his glasses as he looked at Dylan. “The other option is that Sam isn’t a fit for Magnolia High.”

  Extenuating circumstances. Angry heat rushed through Dylan. Surely the principal could come up with a better way to describe being orphaned.