The Merriest Magnolia (Magnolia Sisters #2) - Michelle Major Page 0,22
much as she wanted to argue, she nodded.
“Right.”
“And you have a boyfriend.”
“Um... I do.”
“Who’s a better kisser than me?”
“He is.”
Dylan studied her for a long moment, his mouth curving into an almost-smile that did funny things to her insides.
“Will he be helping with your little winter carnival plan, too?” His big shoulders rolled as if adjusting the tension they held.
“It’s not little,” she argued automatically. “And he lives in Charleston.”
“A long-distance love affair? How long have the two of you been dating?”
Carrie narrowed her eyes because it felt like Dylan was asking questions even though he didn’t believe a word she said to him. “Six months,” she told him. “He’s very kind. And refined. Gentle. A true gentleman.”
“Sounds boring as hell. What’s his name?”
“Randall,” she blurted.
“You’re dating a guy named Randall?” Dylan sniffed. “Is he eighty years old?”
“Stop.” She held up a hand and pushed her palm against his chest.
Big mistake. The instant she felt the hard muscles of his body and the heat coming from him, need pooled low in her belly. She drew back her hand and glanced up to find him staring down at her again, nostrils flared and color high on his cheeks.
“I have to go,” she murmured, desperately searching for control. Purchase over her desire. A cold shower. Anything to stem the tide of yearning she felt for this man. “And call Randall.”
His lips quirked. “Tell him I said hi.”
“Su-sure,” she stammered. “I’ll talk to Malcolm, too. He couldn’t have been serious about us working together.”
“Your mayor seems like he’s always serious when it comes to this town.”
Yeah. “We’ll figure it out anyway,” she insisted. “You can’t want to work with me any more than I do with you.”
She expected an immediate agreement, but Dylan only quirked a brow. “Sweet dreams, Carrie,” he said, his voice thick and rich like warm honey. “You be sure not to think of me while you’re asleep. But if you do, know that real life would be even better.”
She bit down on the inside of her cheek to suppress a groan. “Never,” she told him and stomped past, knowing her dreams would be nothing but that irritating man.
* * *
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON Dylan pulled into the Magnolia High parking lot with a knot of anger balling in his stomach.
He’d gotten the call from Principal Johnson twenty minutes earlier. Sam had been caught vandalizing the building during fifth period, when he should have been in algebra.
Was the kid trying to get kicked out of yet another school?
After turning off the ignition, Dylan rubbed two fingers against his temples, which had started to throb in a familiar way when it came to dealing with Sam’s defiance. He wanted to be a patient, understanding guardian. Sam had been through something no child of any age should have to deal with.
But his need to act out, while normal according to the therapist they’d gone to during the months after his parents’ deaths, was going to impact the boy’s future if it didn’t stop.
The therapist had agreed that a fresh start might help Sam recover. He seemed to want to pull away from everything that reminded him of his family or who he’d been before their accident.
It had been less than a week that he’d been enrolled at Magnolia High. Dylan had tried to remain upbeat about the close-knit school, listing off the clubs and activities he’d read on the website. He hoped like hell Sam didn’t get any of the teachers he’d had during his time there. It wouldn’t be good for the kid if they remembered him.
Now it seemed like Sam was hell-bent on not only living up to but also surpassing Dylan’s dreadful reputation at school.
Taking several deep breaths, Dylan climbed the stairs to the school. He checked in with security, trying not to cringe as the burly officer behind the glass gave him a cool once-over. After the guy buzzed him into the locked front entrance, Dylan entered the administrative office.
He’d been naive to think that Sam would have a smooth transition but refused to give up hope that the boy would take life’s lemons and make something drinkable with them. “Mr. Johnson is waiting for you in his office,” the secretary told him, her tone clipped.
Two days and Sam had already been pegged as a troublemaker. Dylan hated that. He wanted to show these judgmental educators Sam’s baby photos and all the videos Kay had taken to document the precious milestones in her son’s life.