The Merriest Magnolia (Magnolia Sisters #2) - Michelle Major

CHAPTER ONE

SHE WAS BEING FOLLOWED.

Although it was nearing midnight, Carrie Reed shouldn’t feel nervous walking home on a late November night. She’d lived in the quaint town of Magnolia, North Carolina, her entire life and knew most of its residents by name. The ones she hadn’t met likely knew of her thanks to her father, the famous artist Niall Reed, and the drama that had unfolded after his death four months ago.

Pausing before taking the turn onto the street where she lived, Carrie squinted into the darkness, searching for movement outside the branches of a nearby white pine rustling in the cool breeze.

She’d left her downtown art studio without much thought to the late hour. Tonight she’d taught a paint-and-sip class at The Reed Gallery to a boisterous bunco group made up of some of Magnolia’s most respected mavens. It had been an eye-opener for Carrie.

A few glasses of sangria and the women had enthusiastically painted the personalized ornament scene she’d created for them. As they’d worked, those “Bunco Babes,” as they’d named themselves, had talked about everything from grandkids to menopause to keeping their love lives spicy after decades of marriage or, in several cases, a midlife divorce.

Carrie’s relationship with her mother was strained on a good day and she’d been raised an only child, so she didn’t have a lot of experience with that kind of fervid honesty in her relationships with women. Up until her father’s will revealed two half sisters from his years of philandering, Carrie hadn’t even had close friends. She’d devoted the bulk of her adult life—and a good bit of her childhood if she were totally honest—to taking care of her temperamental father.

Her life transformed, almost completely for the better, thanks to her sisters. But secretly Carrie feared the changes were happening to her and not within her. She was a creature of habit and not the most outgoing person on her best day. The past couple of months had pushed her out of her comfort zone in too many ways to count.

She’d never been paranoid, and with a crime rate bordering on nonexistent, Magnolia could be counted on as a safe place. Yet, one of the most important lessons she’d learned from her father’s passing was that looks could be deceiving.

“Who’s there?” she called into the night, feeling a little foolish. Part of her wondered if she was talking to the grapevine deer and plastic snowmen that already decorated the lawns of houses on either side of the street, even though they still had a week until Thanksgiving.

Magnolia took the holidays seriously, although there seemed to be some kind of unwritten rule about turning off Christmas lights at eleven o’clock each night. Only a silvery moon high in the sky and one lone streetlight illuminated the darkness now.

A dog barked a few houses down from where she stood. Carrie spun toward the sound but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

When she turned back around, a dark shape had emerged from the shadows on the sidewalk in front of her.

Carrie opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. Panic pounded through her until the broad-shouldered man stepped into a sliver of moonlight.

“It’s me, Carrie. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Pressing a palm to her chest, she silently commanded her heart to stop pounding. “Are you crazy, Dylan?” She held up a hand. “No need to respond. I know the answer already. Why are you following me?”

All six foot three inches of Dylan Scott, with his tousled blond hair, piercing blue eyes and lean, muscled frame, seemed to stiffen at her question. “I’m not following you exactly. I was out for a walk and—”

“A casual stroll at midnight?” She shook her head. “On a Saturday night in Magnolia?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“What are you even doing in town? You don’t live here.”

“I do now. I moved into a house a couple blocks over.”

No. “You don’t belong,” she told him through clenched teeth.

A muscle in his jaw jumped at that comment. “It’s my hometown,” he reminded her, as if she could ever forget. “I belong just as much as you do.”

“I’ve lived here all my life.”

“I’m well aware.” One side of his mouth curved, more sneer than smile. “Everyone considers you Magnolia royalty. You’ve always been the town’s shining light.”

“Not true,” she said on a gasp. Why did people want to fault her because she hadn’t been a troublemaker? She’d had to bust through the same preconceived notions with her half sisters, especially the youngest, Meredith,