Page 7 of Sweet Southern Heat

He picked up a bag of tools I hadn’t noticed lying at his feet. He must have dropped it there when he came in, but I didn’t hear anything over the sound of Taylor crooning in my ears. Without sparing me another glance, Landon strode toward the door, and I saw my chance at having my bakery renovated before summer fly out the window. There was no way I could wait nearly three months for someone to start on it. I was desperate.

“Wait!” I called out in a panic. He stopped but didn’t turn to face me. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

His shoulders rose and fell with his deep inhale. Then he turned to face me, the uncertainty in his gaze overshadowed by his angry scowl.

“How exactly did you mean it then?”

I twisted Nan’s apron in my hands and chewed on the inside of my lip. “It’s just…” I began but struggled to find the right words. How did I tell him I didn’t think it was a good idea for him to work on a project for me without making him hate me even more? “You don’t exactly like me.” He scoffed as if that was the understatement of the year. “I imagine it would be difficult for you to work on a property I own.”

His jaw ticced, and his eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn’t name. It was gone in an instant, replaced by that ever-present crease between his brows. If he walked out that doorright now, I would have to wait months to get my bakery renovated, but it would save me from having to endure Landon’s hateful scowl or the way he raked his unimpressed gaze up and down my body. He looked at me like the judge at the county fair studied a pig that was covered in its own shit.

“A job’s a job,” he said flatly. “This doesn’t need to be personal. I can be professional if you can.” There was challenge in his tone, and I got the impression he thought I might retreat, but I was made of stronger stuff than that.

“Of course. That won’t be a problem,” I offered sweetly, plastering a smile on my face. He studied me a moment, and I fought the urge to look away. My skin itched under his scrutiny, but I refused to avert my gaze and show him how he unnerved me. He finally nodded and broke eye contact, glancing past me toward the door that led to the storefront. I released the breath trapped in my lungs, and my shoulders slumped in relief.

“Lead the way,” he commanded, holding out a hand as though to summon me forward. I moved to the door, and he fell in step behind me. My skin prickled, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the steady thump of his boots followed me to the front of the shop. I flipped on the lights, and Landon took in the space around us. Pulling a small notebook from his back pocket, he flipped it open and clicked on his pen.

“Dean already told me what needed to be done, but I want to make sure we’re all on the same page,” Landon said, skimming his notes. I spent the next several minutes relaying my vision for the space to him. He occasionally scribbled something on his notepad but remained silent.

“The bakery needs to remain open during the renovations,” I added, biting the inside of my cheek nervously. “Dean assured me you would be able to keep the dust and debris contained so it wouldn’t interfere with the normal operations of the bakery.”

“Yep,” he replied simply, stuffing his pen and notebook back into his pocket.

Well, okay then.

“If you have any questions, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Great. I’ll get started,” he said flatly, his tone dismissive. I stood there, watching him nervously as he began to pull tools from his bag. Sensing my gaze on him, he turned his scowl on me, and the glare from his icy blue eyes burned into me.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Olivia. You’ll get exactly what you want.” I nodded and turned for the door. Before I disappeared into the kitchen, I heard him mutter in a low tone, “Just like you always do.”

Chapter 8

Landon

Fucking Olivia Duprey.When Dean said the bakery was under new ownership, I thought he meant someone bought it. Instead, it had simply passed to Odette’s granddaughter. The granddaughter who’d tucked tail and run when things got tough, leaving her grandmother to deal with the aftermath of her actions.

Sure, it had been a relief when I returned from deployment and found that Olivia had moved away. After what she’d put my family through, I was happy to see her gone. Good riddance. But it didn’t sit well with me that she’d run like a coward instead of staying and facing what she’d done. She didn’t care that it devastated her grandmother. She didn’t care that the whole town was rocked by the accident or that my family had to pick up the pieces left behind from her poor decisions. No, she hid from it, from all of us. And her grandmother suffered for it.

It was obvious Olivia’s absence hurt her. Lyle had once told me Odette was more like a mother to Olivia, that she’d practically raised her. When Olivia left, Odette put on a brave face, but she no longer had that spark she always carried or the twinkle that lit up her deep brown eyes, eyes I couldn’t help butnotice matched Olivia’s. They’d dimmed after Olivia left, and it was a damn shame no one would ever see them sparkle again.

Shaking away those thoughts, I began tearing into the wall. The room was divided by a sheet of plastic to keep the dust out of the main dining area where the bakery case was located. It would keep the dust away from the customers when they came in to pick out their treats. However, it didn’t keep out the scent of said treats.

The smell of freshly baked bread mixed with the tartness of fresh berries and sweet cream created a mouthwatering aroma that wafted through the air. It was sweet and savory all at once. Herbs from the bread and the sugary scent of pies, cakes, and cookies combined to create the most decadent and heavenly perfume. It was almost too much.

My stomach growled as I swung my sledgehammer, taking down a large portion of the awkward half wall Olivia wanted gone. She wanted to update the space, but to what end? Did she plan to stay and run the bakery now that Odette was gone, or would she sell it to the highest bidder once the renovations were completed?

What did I care? Olivia was nothing to me. If she chose to sell it and return to her life in Atlanta, all the better. But if she decided to stay…

I groaned at the thought. I’d have to see her around town and hear people talk about her. Her treats would be at every social gathering, church function, and school fundraiser, just like Odette’s had been. There would be no escaping her then.

It didn’t matter. I had to finish this job. My work had to be up to par and done on time. If swallowing my pride meant getting the funds to cover the new roof for Dad’s house, I could do it. I just hoped it didn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

Two hours later,I was gathering up old drywall and two-by-fours when the air in the room shifted. Even with a sheet of heavy-duty plastic separating us, Olivia’s presence still prickled my skin. She waited for me as I finished cleaning. I didn’t rush, though. I felt no compunction to cater to her time frame and relished the annoyed pinch of her brow when I finally pushed the plastic aside and stepped through the barrier.

She crossed her arms over her middle as she wearily eyed the space behind me, no doubt worrying about the quality of my work. Pushing down my annoyance, I eyed her flatly, waiting for her to speak. Her eyes finally settled on mine, the chocolate brown orbs filling with unease.

“Looks like a kill room in there,” she said, releasing a nervous laugh. “You’re not going to off me, wrap me up in that plastic, and feed me to the gators, are you?”

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