Page 8 of Sweet Southern Heat

My brows lifted in surprise, but I quickly schooled my expression. I hadn’t expected that joke to come from her mouth. At the same time, I wasn’t entirely certain it was a joke. I shrugged, unable to resist the urge to feed into her discomfort.

“You never know. Dexter had a normal day job too.”

Another nervous laugh left her lips, the high pitch revealing her discomfort. “Right,” she agreed, her eyelids fluttering anxiously. “I, uh, have a favor to ask,” she continued then winced. I was the last person in Magnolia Grove who would ever grant her a favor. Still, I remained silent, equally curious and intrigued by what she might ask me to do. “I have something I need you to take to Murphy.”

She turned and motioned for me to follow her. I entered the kitchen, and the smells from earlier hit me full force. Loaves ofbread filled one countertop while trays of assorted baked goods covered her work surface. How she’d made all this in the time I’d been here was a mystery. Wonder at her skill filled my chest, but I pushed it away. The truth was, I didn’t want to be impressed. I didn’t want to see what all she’d accomplished since she’d left. Her accomplishments meant nothing to me, not when she was the reason my family had lost everything.

She turned to me and opened her mouth to speak, but a timer dinged, cutting off what she was about to say. She glanced at the oven and bounced on her toes like an excited child. Looking back at me, she held up a finger. “Give me just a minute. The croissants are done.” Her voice changed, her accent curling around the word croissant in the way of the French. It was no surprise since she’d spent the summer in Paris studying under a world-renowned pastry chef a few years ago. Her mother made sure everyone in town knew about it. While I was doing my best to hold my family together, she was living it up in Europe making all her dreams come true.

Tamping down my anger, I waited for her to pull the baking sheet from the oven and place it on the only square of empty space left in the kitchen. She pulled off her oven mitts and tossed them aside before grabbing a box. She approached me tentatively as though worried I might lash out at her, and I softened my expression.

“Could you take this to Murphy?” she asked and handed me the box. I peered down at it suspiciously. “I made him a strawberry rhubarb pie. It’s his favorite,” she added sheepishly, and the sight was almost endearing. Almost. Anyone else would’ve been fooled by her act, but not me. I knew what really hid beneath that warm smile and those wide, innocent eyes. Leaving the box in my hands, she grabbed a carafe from the counter and thrust it at me as well. “This too,” she added as I shifted the pie to one hand and tucked it under my arm. “He toldme he loved the coffee here, so I thought I’d send some with the pie. It’s just a little thank you for getting my car done so fast.”

My back teeth ground together as I took in her bashful expression.Iwas the one who had finished her car. And I’d had to talk Murph into letting me stay late to do it. There was no way I’d tell her that, though. She would think I’d done it out of the kindness in my heart, when really, I’d just wanted her out of my town faster. Too bad it hadn’t worked.

Chapter 9

Olivia

Landon Crawford was quite possiblythe surliest man I had ever encountered. The past couple days with him in my space had been awkward and uncomfortable. The man barely communicated in anything more than grunts and scowls. Thankfully, he was only in my space for a few hours in the morning since he had to be at Murphy’s at nine. He usually showed up to the bakery around the same time I did, and we both worked quietly in our respective spaces until he left to go to the garage. During that time, he said as few words to me as possible.

And I hated that it bothered me.

Landon and I would never be friends, but I hoped we could at least be cordial acquaintances. I realized he blamed me for every hardship his family had endured over the past six years, but I’d hoped time would lessen his resentment. It didn’t matter that it was misplaced. Telling him the truth would only hurt him more. I was resigned to be cast as the villain in his story if it meant lessening his pain, but it was getting harder and harder to withstand his disdain.

I hadn’t caused that wreck. Despite what everyone believed, I hadn’t been drinking at our graduation party, and I certainly hadn’t been driving recklessly. I wasn’t fighting with Lyle.

But he was trying to fight with me.

Flashes from that night played out in my mind like it was yesterday. The yelling, the accusations, the fear. Screeching tires and crunching metal. Blood and smoke stinging my eyes. My breath came in and out in pants as I relived the worst night of my life.

The sound of the back door slamming shut pulled me from the memory. I pinched my eyes shut and took a deep, shuddering breath. Turning to face Roxi, I plastered on a smile while she hung her purse on a hook.

“Mornin’, Livy,” she said as she walked into the kitchen and grabbed her apron. Roxi was one of my grandmother’s—now my—employees. She was the only person Nan ever trusted to help her make the treats. She could whip up a mean donut and had a knack for getting meringue just right. Plus, she was an excellent salesperson. When she was here, we sold out of most items. She was an incredible employee and had worked for my grandmother for nearly a decade. I didn’t want to even think about what would happen to her if I sold the bakery. Would the new owners keep her on, or would she be forced to look for another job?

I swallowed down the guilt clogging my throat. She was just one of many whose lives would be affected if I sold. Mina, my other employee, had two kids at home and a deadbeat baby daddy who rarely paid child support since he couldn’t hold down a job. She needed steady work she could rely on to care for her family. Then there was Mr. Landers who ran Silver Oak Farms where we got most of our produce and dairy products. I couldn’t guarantee that if I sold, they would still get our business. There was so much riding on this decision.

“Liv, are you okay?” Roxi’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to find her watching me with worry in her eyes.

“Yea, I’m good,” I replied automatically, even though it was far from the truth. “I just need to get these muffins boxed up.” Her arrival signaled that it was almost time for Landon to leave. It was time to put my plan into motion.

Landon would never be a fan of mine, but I wanted to at least be able to have a conversation with him without wondering if he was plotting my murder. So I would kill him with kindness. My grandmother always said that sharing food with someone was the best way to make peace with them. Whether you wronged someone or had a fight with a friend, food was a way of bridging that gap. It was a love language. Sure, I didn’tloveLandon. I didn’t even like him, but I wanted us to at least be able to tolerate each other.

I grabbed an empty box with the bakery’s logo and began filling it with lemon blueberry muffins. They were a popular breakfast item and usually sold out within an hour of opening. Closing it up, I pushed my way through the door and found Landon packing up his tools. He straightened and faced me, his relaxed expression hardening as his gaze locked on mine. I swallowed hard and forced my feet to move. He watched me approach, his face giving nothing away as his eyes tracked my movements.

“Here,” I said, thrusting the box at him. “These are for you.” He eyed the box distrustfully as though it contained a venomous snake just waiting to strike.

“Why?” he asked, slowly reaching out to grab the box from me. He lifted it to his nose and sniffed. The sight was a bit comical, but I didn’t dare show my amusement.

“I know you have to rush to the garage when you leave here, and I figured you probably don’t have time to stop for breakfast. So I thought I’d send breakfast with you.”

He eyed me skeptically as if he wanted to probe further but shook his head in acquiescence when I offered him a genuine smile. He grunted what almost sounded like “thanks,” but I couldn’t be sure.

Without another word, he left, leaving me wondering if I’d ever get through to him.

Chapter 10

Landon

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