Page 6 of Sweet Southern Heat

“Mr. Sullivan,” I greeted in return, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I hoped I didn’t sound as groggy as I felt. After staying up half the night fixing Olivia’s car, I didn’t crash until nearly four a.m., but at least I’d finished the job and clocked several hours of overtime. Still, I always answered Dean’s calls because that meant he had a job for me.

“I told you, call me Dean,” he chided jokingly. “Mr. Sullivan is my father.” Dean was only four years older than me, but the guys and I liked to razz him. Ever since he'd turned thirty, we made sure to refer to him as Mr. Sullivan.

“What can I do for you?” I asked hopefully.

“I wanted to see if you’d be interested in a job.”

“I’m listening.” He chuckled, knowing I was always open to hearing his offers.

“I realize this is last minute, but I need someone who can start a project this week.” I let out a low whistle. Thatwasshort notice. “I know, I know,” he placated, “but the bakery is under new ownership, and they’re looking to do some minor renovations.” I froze, my hackles rising at the mention of the bakery. Anything connected to Olivia always caused a visceral reaction deep in my gut, but Dean said it was under new ownership. That was fast. I guessed Olivia was as eager to leave Magnolia Grove as I was for her to be gone. I’d seen her grandmother’s car around town and assumed she was settling her estate. Rumor was, Odette left her the bakery and her house. Dean continued, pulling me from my thoughts.

“They want this project done ASAP. I mentioned I might have someone who could get started right away, but that you would keep odd working hours. They were completely fine with that,” he assured me.

I'd worked for Dean with the understanding that it couldn’t interfere with my job at the garage. I could work early in the morning or after hours. Even weekends were fair game. When his schedule was jam-packed and they needed someone to work on something done in a pinch, I was his go-to guy. He tried to keep everyone in Magnolia Grove happy and finish jobs on time, and I was thankful to have the extra work.

“So what do you say?”

I replied without hesitation.

“I’m in.”

Chapter 7

Olivia

The streetsof Magnolia Grove were quiet as I meandered through town. It wasn’t yet six in the morning, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Entering through the back door of the bakery, I stepped inside and went straight to the kitchen. Just like Saturday, memories assaulted me the moment I flipped on the lights and took in the space. I wasn’t ready for this, but I also didn’t think it would get any easier. The bakery needed to be opened. It had been closed since the day Nan passed away, and everyone I’d encountered the last few days asked when it would open again. Apparently, they felt I had grieved long enough.

Despite my reluctance to run the bakery, I had to bring in some revenue. The bills still needed to be paid, and the bakery’s employees needed their hours. While I still was uncertain about the future of Sugar & Sage, it would be nice to have a distraction while I waited for the deeds to be transferred into my name. I didn’t want to leave until everything was finalized.

Thankfully, I was able to stick around for a while since I’d racked up plenty of vacation time. That was what happened when you rarely took a day off or called in sick. My boss had graciously allowed me to use as much of that time as I needed.It would go quickly, though, and I’d eventually have to make a choice. I just hoped the renovations were done before then. Maybe the path would be clearer once the shop was fixed up, and I’d have more time to grieve and come to terms with the purest soul I knew no longer walking this earth.

Thankfully, Dean Sullivan planned to send someone out today to get started on the demo. He was hesitant at first to promise a quick turnaround on the job since all his usual guys were busy on other work sites, but he had someone in mind who could come in before the bakery opened in the mornings. It was as though the heavens smiled upon me for the first time in weeks. The arrangement was perfect since no construction would occur while the bakery was open. We’d have to close off most of the dining area, but patrons could still purchase their goods. They would just have to take their orders to-go until renovations were completed.

Popping in my earbuds, I selected my favorite playlist and gathered my supplies. My bread would need time to rise, so I started on it first. Once I had it prepared, I set it aside and began rolling out dough for my pie crust. I was lost in my music and shaking my hips to the beat when there was a tap on my shoulder. I spun around, my heart in my throat and my rolling pin raised in defense toward my would-be attacker. My arm was poised to strike a devastating blow, but a large hand wrapped around my wrist, and my body was pressed into the counter behind me. My chest heaved, and my heart rate spiked as I struggled against the iron-clad hold the assailant had on my wrist. Striking blue eyes seared into me from beneath dark, furrowed brows. They were familiar, yet they didn’t put me at ease. They’d glared at me with hatred too many times to find comfort in them.

“L-Landon?” I squeaked out, my voice trembling. He reached out with his free hand and plucked an earbud from my ear.

“Do you think you could lower your weapon now?” he asked, his gaze flicking to my rolling pin still suspended in the air above us. I followed his line of sight to where he gripped my wrist and traveled the length of his arm to the chest that nearly brushed against mine as it rose and fell with every ragged breath I took. He stood so close, I could smell the peppermint on his breath. My skin hummed with awareness. I told myself it was fear that had my blood pumping and not the man who stood mere inches from me. Sure, Landon was attractive in that classically rugged way with his dark, expertly tousled hair and sharp jaw, but that was all he had going for him. He was surly and mad at the world. I understood life had dealt him a shitty hand, but it took effort to be that angry all the time.

Or maybe he was only angry with me. Maybe I was the only one who saw him like that since he blamed me for all his woes.

He quirked a brow as if waiting for my answer, and I pinched my eyes shut. I drew in a deep, calming breath before answering.

“That depends. What are you doing in my kitchen?” He tilted his head to the side, studying me. A muscle in his jaw ticced, and his eyes visibly dimmed. He released me and took a step back.

“I knocked several times, but there was no answer. The door was unlocked so?—”

“That doesn’t explainwhyyou’re here, though. Do you make a habit of just strolling into businesses before working hours?”

He ground his teeth together as he worked his jaw back and forth.

“I’m here to work on the renovations,” he said slowly as if trying to rein in his temper. My breath hitched, and my eyes widened in shock. Was he serious? Did Dean Sullivan really send Landon Crawford to work on my bakery?

This couldn’t be. Landon blamed me for everything that was wrong in his life. There was no way he would do this job right. He’d probably booby trap the door so I ended up hanging upsidedown by my ankle before turning a pack of raccoons loose on my kitchen. Did raccoons even run in packs?

“I don’t think so,” I replied, shaking my head with trepidation. He gritted his teeth, and that muscle in his jaw flexed again.

“I can assure you, I do quality work,” he ground out, his nostrils flaring in irritation. “But if my presence isn’t up to your,” he began, his gaze flicking down my form before landing on my face with a sneer, “standards, then you can wait until the next crew is freed up in July.”

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