Steal My Magnolia (Love at First Sight Book 3) Read online

  Suffice it to say, he was dropped ass first onto the concrete outside the Chamber of Commerce after Daddy cursed him up one side of the sidewalk and down the other. He decided, quite wisely, not to move his business into Green Valley after that.

  But this was different, and I couldn't help but add it to the list of things that made me certifiably insane about my father.

  "She undermined you in a staff meeting where everyone was watching," he said. Bless his heart, he was trying to keep his tone even because we'd had this discussion a thousand times over the past four years, and he knew my will matched his own. I just wielded mine with a lighter touch and a sweeter smile, like every good southern belle does.

  "A gentle correction is not undermining, especially when I could have presented incorrect information to the Chamber board. You should be thanking her." I unfolded my hands and smoothed them down the front of my pink and white gingham skirt. "I will speak to her, which is appropriate as her superior. You will stay out of this, Daddy."

  "This is my office, Magnolia, and I will not tolerate disrespect of my main administrator."

  I let out a slow breath and stood from behind my desk. The surface was immaculate, my laptop closed and centered on the gleaming walnut. A small vase of pink peonies sat in the corner next to an antique lamp with an ornate golden base. But the way my daddy filled the space, he eclipsed everything about it that I loved. Because it turned the neatness, the order, the carefully cultivated mood into something ominous. Like I'd been watching an angry thundercloud roll in for the past few years but never even considered raising my umbrella in case of rain.

  "I am the person who Candy reports to," I told him, my voice firming and my spine straightening. My temper took a long time to rise to the surface. It usually hovered out of reach, where I couldn't grab it easily, and he knew that. He knew it, and if I was honest, he used that to his advantage. It took me longer to reach anger, and when his was so readily accessible, it usually turned to quick action that he refused to second-guess. "And if you fire her without my permission, then you are also disrespecting my position within this office."

  "She took a tone with you, Magnolia," he warned. "I saw it in her eyes. That woman took great joy in correcting you in front of everyone else."

  The thing I hated most, as I watched my father work himself into a righteous frenzy, was that he wasn't wrong. Candy had looked mighty pleased with herself when she pointed out my error. But it wasn't a fireable offense, not to me.

  There would always be people who looked at me and judged. Always. My skin color, my age, the fact that I was given my job simply because I shared my father's last name. My mere existence was fodder for judgment.

  The door of my office was open, and our intern walked past, watching my father and me unabashedly.

  My cheeks heated as I turned my attention back to Daddy. "I'm done with this conversation."

  Daddy rocked back like I'd pushed him. "I'm not. It's unacceptable, Magnolia."

  "It's fixable," I told him. "And as your administrator, I will fix it how I see fit. End of discussion."

  The set of his strong jaw told me exactly how done with this he wasn't. His shoulders, broad and strong, straightened, and his eyes, the same golden green that I'd inherited from him, narrowed in determination.

  "Daddy," I warned him. "Don't you even think about undermining me in this. I will handle it."

  "You will let her get away with it because you're afraid to be firm with someone who looks at you like she does."

  It stung, partially because it was true. I'd come up against more than one person in my time who I wanted to eviscerate because of something they'd said or done. Instead, I channeled every etiquette lesson and killed them with kindness and a sweetly spoken reprimand. A steel bat wrapped in lace was still a formidable weapon, and my father often forgot that.

  And sometimes, I had to wield that weapon with the man who loved me more than anything on this earth, with the exception of my mother. "Daddy, stay out of it, or you will not like the consequences."

  His eyes narrowed farther but not in determination. This was a subtle gauging of how serious I was. What he couldn't see was the maelstrom whipping fiercely under my skin, the furious energy that I felt when I thought about him going against me on this.

  "What exactly are you threatening me with, Magnolia Marie MacIntyre?"

  The full name, hefted like a weapon of his own, should have sent me cowering. My parents never, and I mean never, used my full name unless they were cross with me.

  I kept my face even, just like my momma did, and I begged him with my eyes to let this go. To let me fight this battle on my own because, God Almighty, being the only child of J.T. MacIntyre and Bobby Jo Boone gave me enough determination that he should have been thrilled to unleash me on the world. Except all he wanted to do, even as I rounded the corner to thirty, was wrap me in Bubble Wrap and protect me from the ugly.

  His chest expanded on an inhale, and just as he was about to speak, Candy popped her unfortunate head into my office.

  "Magnolia?" she said sweetly. "I have that corrected finance report all ready to go for the board meeting tomorrow." Her thin lips, covered with a frosted pink lipstick that should have been outlawed in 1999, curled up in a victorious smile. "You're welcome, by the way."

  When I caught a glimpse of my daddy's expression, I exhaled slowly.

  Unaware that she'd just sealed her own fate, Candy smiled a little bit wider. "J.T.," she said. "I'm sure she'll never do it again. She's such a good girl, isn't she?"

  Daddy set his hands on his hips, looked up at the heavens for a moment, and I sucked in a breath.

  "Candy," he said, sending me one brief, apologetic look before he turned toward the door. "You're fired."

  She blinked. Then blinked again.

  "Excuse me?" she whispered.

  There was no stopping him now, and to speak up would only make this worse. I clasped my hands in front of me and watched the carnage unfold.

  Daddy pointed at the hallway where a couple of people had stopped to gawk. "You have one hour to pack up your desk, and if you can manage to do that without a single word denigrating my daughter—who is your superior—then I grant you a month of severance pay. But if you open that condescending mouth of yours one more time, you won't get a dime."

  Unreasonable Eggplant didn't look very good on Candy either. With the slight graying to her blond hair, it made her look ill.

  She pinned me with accusation in her eyes, and I kept my face even. Even before she opened her mouth, I knew it would be bad.

  "Good luck getting anywhere in this life besides the four walls of this office, Magnolia."

  "Out!" Daddy yelled, pointing in the direction of her own workspace. "Pack up and go, Candy."

  She stormed down the hallway with Daddy in her wake.

  My hands were shaking as I sank back into my chair, and I gripped my fingers together so tightly that my knuckles turned bone white. As people walked past my office, I felt their stares, heavy with so much that I didn't want to identify. If they were able to separate me from my father, they all liked and respected me. But that was an "if" bigger than the Smoky Mountains, and just as formidable to traverse.

  I didn't even pretend to work as I sat there, trying desperately to make sense of what I should do next. When I warned Daddy of consequences, I'd meant it, but I wasn't exactly sure what those consequences were.

  Candy's parting words echoed through my head, and I had to pinch my eyes shut against the sheer force of what they did to me.

  My job paid well, and I was good at it. Even if Daddy hadn't handed it to me on a silver platter, I would've run that office seamlessly. Some people had callings in life, right? Mine was something like this. The pleasure I gained from a color-coded spreadsheet was probably on par with how most people felt about Death by Chocolate cake or good sex or a shopping spree with someone else's money. For my eighteenth birthday, I'd asked for a label maker that cost as much as nice
jewelry, and I cried when I opened that box.

  But this wasn't about me being good at my job.

  For the second time that day, Candy wasn't wrong. Every time Daddy swooped in to fix something he defined as a problem, he knocked my legs out from under me.

  Swiveling my chair to the side, I stared out the large window of my office overlooking downtown Green Valley. Each business lining those streets held a connection to us by way of Daddy's role and my own. I thought of how many people glanced at me sideways because of the way he bulldozed his way through life under the guise of granting Momma and me every happiness. Momma had hers, carved out in the backbone of Green Valley, as the owner of the Bait and Tackle shop. She was well-respected, loved by the people who worked for her, and by the customers who kept her business thriving, even if my parents' marriage was viewed as some sort of oddity.

  No one really understood him except us, and normally, I was okay with that.

  As a young girl, it was something I loved about him. Something that made me cherished and loved and precious.

  But as a woman who was feeling locked down by that part of him, the part that wanted to take on the world if it meant he could make things easier on me, it didn't feel so precious anymore.

  Outside my window, I saw a dirt-covered SUV pull up in front of the office space across the street. The man who stepped out of the driver's seat was tall with dark golden hair in need of a cut and had a swimmer's build—broad and muscular without the bulk I was used to seeing on men my age. I didn't recognize him right away, but when he turned and smiled at someone walking past him, my eyes narrowed.

  Grady Buchanan.

  New to town in the past few months, he was not someone I'd met yet. I was, however, very acquainted with his twin sister, Grace. Also known as the woman who moved to town and managed to upend my carefully constructed life when she proved too irresistible for my longtime boyfriend, Tucker.

  Despite how maudlin that sounded, there was no real drama behind it. He and I had been together too long and had gotten far too comfortable, so his breaking up with me to pursue a relationship with Grace had probably been a good thing. I didn't hold any ill will against Grace, per se.

  All I knew about Grady was that he was trying to start a new business in town, though I'd prejudged him a bit for not immediately joining the Chamber. I also knew he'd struggle to find a foothold doing what he wanted to do; run guided hikes and camping trips in the greater Green Valley area. Our tourist numbers weren't high enough to sustain something like that.

  As I watched him unload a massive box from the back of his vehicle, hefting it easily into his muscular arms, an idea lit somewhere in the darkest parts of my brain.

  It felt like freedom and held a dangerous edge that I'd never dared to approach.

  He'd have no preconceived notion of who I was. No built-in bias of how to handle the daughter of J.T. MacIntyre.

  And as he struggled to open the door to the office space, almost dropping the box in the process, I found my lip curving into a slight smile. He'd also need help. A lot of help from someone who knew this town, knew this state, had been born with the gift of organization, and had the Lord's own patience.

  Something unlocked behind my chest. Something rusty and unused. Almost like a bird who was trying out its wings after a long rehabilitation.

  It was hope. And it looked an awful lot like Grady Buchanan.

  Chapter 2

  Grady

  "Where did you go, you little asshole? You were right here a second ago," I murmured. The empty office space didn't answer me. Neither did the pile of crumpled receipts as I rifled through them.

  One large purchase order had up and walked away. It was the only explanation. And that was not acceptable, because if I was going to start this business, I was going to start on the right foot.

  In theory, I was doing well. But that theory was flimsy, and I refused to think about what might happen if it crumbled under the weight of reality.

  The money I'd been saving for years was my jumping-off point. The springboard I'd slowly built for the past five years while I slaved away behind a computer.

  I had a partner in the form of Tucker, even if that was a nominal partnership at best, given that we had approximately zero customers. But those would come, I had to believe. I just needed someone to do ... everything else that I sucked at. Like figuring out how to organize all this bullshit.

  Did I want clear bins?

  Or inventory straight on the racks?

  How much inventory did I really need?

  That depended entirely on the number of customers I managed to bring in. If I would be focusing more on small day hikes with groups or if I could build a steady stream of overnight trips that included camping too.

  My thumb tapped against the surface of the desk, and I struggled to breathe through the press of panic on my chest. "This wasn't a mistake," I said for the hundredth time that week. "This is a good idea."

  The panic, something I could normally push down with two hands, built into something bigger and heavier, and I felt it spread to the back of my neck and down to the stretch of skin between my shoulder blades.

  If this failed, I'd have to go back to doing a job that I hated.

  If this failed, and I had to face people like Tucker or Grace or my dad and admit that moving to Green Valley had been a mistake, I couldn't handle it.

  I took a deep breath and repeated something I'd always heard Memaw say. "Lord, if you're listening, save this wretch from the wreck I've found myself in."

  No sooner were the words out of my mouth than my cell phone rang.

  Blinking stupidly at the small piece of plastic, I couldn't help how the hair on the back of my neck lifted. The timing was probably coincidence, but still, before I hit the screen to answer the call, I found myself glancing up at the heavens.

  Or ... the ceiling, at least. Nothing was out of the ordinary, no sign from above that my salvation was imminent.

  The number was local, and before voicemail picked it up, I carefully tapped the button to connect the call. "This is Grady."

  There was silence on the other end. I pulled the phone away from my face to make sure I'd answered.

  "Hello?" I said.

  I heard a deep breath before she spoke. "Hi, I'm here, sorry."

  My head tilted to the side when I heard her voice. It was soft and low with the curling accent that I'd gotten used to in the past month and a half. But it ... I shook my head ... something about it made the hairs lift slightly on my arms.

  "Did you mean to call my number?" I asked carefully. Inexplicably, I found myself holding my breath, waiting for her to answer.

  "I heard you're looking for help. Administrative help," she clarified.

  My head went back. "Did you?"

  She was quiet for a second. "Small town," she explained. "People talk."

  I laughed under my breath. "So I'm learning." It made me shake my head. The darknet had nothing on the Green Valley information pipeline. "So," I continued, "tell me a little bit about yourself."

  "Of course." For the second time since I picked up, she let out an audible breath. "I have my BS in Business Administration, an MBA from Vanderbilt, and other than college, I've lived in Green Valley my whole life."

  Scratching the side of my face, I glanced around at the horrific state of the office and tried to imagine someone with an MBA wanting anything to do with it. My face was bent in a grimace.

  "I've spent the past five years as an office administrator for my ..." She paused. "For a local business, and I'm looking to change things up. Fresh start."

  I sat up slowly. "I can understand wanting a fresh start. That's why I'm here."

  "I know. I, umm, I heard that. In town." She stumbled slightly over her words, and I smiled. "I'm not very outdoorsy, and I know that's what you'll be doing, but I'm the most organized person you'll ever meet. My label maker is my favorite accessory, and I have lists for my to-do lists. And I know every single busin
ess owner from here to Merryville."

  I laughed. "You sound like you're already in your interview."

  She laughed too, and I grimaced when my chest tightened. It caused a strong enough physical sensation that I glanced down at my body, like it was separate from me somehow.

  "I can come in and fill out an application, if you'd like," she said.

  I laughed under my breath. "If I had applications, I'd say yes." I glanced around the mess surrounding me. "But ... I'm not quite that prepared yet."

  "That's also why you need someone who knows how to get an office up and running."

  "That's true," I agreed. "Can you come in tomorrow so we can talk a little bit more? Since I don't have an application."

  "That would be great," she said firmly. The stumbling was gone. I found myself wondering how old she was. What she looked like.

  If I had a calendar, I would've glanced at it. But that was also buried in a stack of papers.

  "How does nine sound? Do you need the address?"

  "Sounds perfect," she answered. "And uh, no, thank you. I know where to find you."

  I shook my head.

  "Small town," we said in unison. She laughed, and my smile took up my whole damn face.

  "Then I'll see you at nine tomorrow ..." My voice trailed off. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. I'm still working on my southern manners."

  She laughed. My chest did that thing again. It wasn't the heavy press of panic. It was a lightening. A lifting of whatever pressure I'd been feeling before she called.

  She spoke slowly, like she was thinking carefully about her answer. "You can call me Lia."

  "Lia," I repeated. "I look forward to meeting you."

  She paused. "You know, if you're free this afternoon, I could come over later today if you wanted."

  Surprise had my eyebrows lifting. My day was hardly packed, given that the most pressing thing I was working on was trying not to panic that I'd made a massive error in uprooting my life and trying my hand for the first time at being an entrepreneur. "Oh, umm, I'd be fine with that." I laughed. "The office is a mess, though. I have to warn you about that."