The Merriest Magnolia (Magnolia Sisters #2) - Michelle Major Page 0,47

But it went against her nature to be cruel. Unfortunately, more times than she cared to count, that had left her in the unenviable position of doormat to the people in her life.

“Sam asked the same thing, but no.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought it would be fun to have a festive day at the beach.”

Dylan whistled under his breath. “You went to a lot of work.”

“Not really.”

He bent his knees until they were at eye level. “I appreciate it,” he said with what looked like a genuine smile.

“Oh.”

His eyes flicked to a place over her shoulder and then he leaned in and brushed a quick kiss across her lips. “Thank you for coming today. Sam doesn’t hate me quite as much when you’re around.”

She shook her head. “He doesn’t hate you at all.”

Dylan didn’t answer and she wouldn’t push him to agree with her. That would come in time.

“Are you going to have something to eat?” he asked, tapping a finger on the bag.

“Sam got a cinnamon roll for me,” she murmured. “He didn’t have to do that.”

“You don’t like to let people do anything nice for you.”

“Not true,” she protested.

“You take care of everyone else,” he continued, his voice gentle like a summer breeze.

“Is that a bad thing?” Frustration moved through her. She hated that she sounded defensive but couldn’t help it.

“No, but sometimes it’s okay to let someone else be the hero.”

“Just not you,” she snapped.

He grinned as if she’d given him a compliment. “Definitely not me.”

She stared at him for a long moment then burst out laughing. “You’re the worst, Dylan.”

“I know. Stop eyeing my sticky bun.”

She reached into the bag. “I thought Mary Ellen cut you off. Don’t tell me you made Sam go in there and lie.”

“I didn’t need to. The kid did better than I ever could have imagined. He played to her decency.”

“That’s impressive. Let’s take the chairs closer to Sam and Daisy. You can help him with the sandcastle after you finish your sticky bun.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t like touching sand.”

His grin widened as he reached out to touch the red sweater she wore. “I forgot about that. A girl grows up at the beach but doesn’t like sand. Yet, you suggested it for Sam.”

“I’m weird.”

“You’re amazing,” he said quietly.

She ducked her head and placed the bakery bag on the folding table she’d set up. She didn’t want to hear Dylan call her amazing. Her heart couldn’t handle it.

She pulled out the pastry, took a big bite and then reached for a beach chair.

“I’ve got it,” he told her, popping the last morsel into his mouth. He picked up both chairs, and they walked toward the ocean.

Carrie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the beach and wasn’t sure when she’d first developed an aversion to it. It was strange, living in a coastal town, and not liking the ocean. Her father had used the setting for some of his most iconic paintings, even one that ostensibly showed Carrie and her mother frolicking in the surf.

A scene that never happened in real life.

In high school her peers went to the beach for sunbathing and after-dark bonfires, but she never joined. She didn’t do much socially as a teenager, at least until Dylan came into her life. Even then she didn’t think she liked the ocean.

But he’d invited her today, and it had been obvious that he hadn’t remembered her aversion. The past couple of months had been an overhaul of the life she’d known. A trip to the beach represented something, overcoming her fear and stepping out of her comfort zone.

Now she wished she hadn’t waited so long. The empty expanse of shore made her feel like she was in some sort of private paradise. Although she wore shoes, she could feel the texture of the cool sand under her feet. It didn’t bother her the way she’d expected it to. The sound of the crashing waves made her feel at once small in the grand scheme of the world and yet somehow connected with the rhythm of the tides.

Dylan and Sam were busy scooping sand into the molds and digging a moat around the structure. They laughed as Daisy dug a hole nearby, sending clumps of wet sand flying in all directions.

She sat in a chair and watched the two of them working in companionable silence. With the sound of the ocean and the cool breeze whistling along the shore, there didn’t seem to be