The Merriest Magnolia (Magnolia Sisters #2) - Michelle Major Page 0,64
nothing the two of you seem to love more than banding together to annoy me.”
“You deserve it.” Carrie threw him a sharp glare over her shoulder. “I thought we agreed you were putting plans for Camp Beverly Hills Magnolia on hold until the New Year. There are companies interested in developing the factory location into something more than fancy housing if you’ll give them a chance. We’re going to prove to you that the town is great just the way it is.”
“We both know that’s not true,” he countered. “If it was you wouldn’t be constantly scrambling to make sure everyone is taken care of around here. Before you find another excuse to vilify me, today’s meeting has been set up since I signed the contract on that property. I’m not denying that I make a perfect villain, but I’m not violating anything.”
It was strange how much Carrie wanted—or maybe needed—Dylan to be the bad guy. She clearly needed some outer force to help her keep up her resolve to stay away from him.
She’d managed it, barely, for a few days, but running into him this way made her long to return to those precious nights in his arms and his bed—any part of his life she could have or when the intimacy they shared took away all that stood between them. Also, her heart ached at the thought of the role in which they’d both so willingly cast him.
“You’re not the bad guy,” she said softly as they stopped in front of a clump of trees. Unable to resist, she covered his hand with hers, squeezing gently, her body flushing from the innocent touch. He had every reason to be frustrated. There was no denying she’d been avoiding him, like she’d used him for the great sex and then walked away without looking back.
As if it was possible to get enough of Dylan.
“What do you think?” Sam asked as he hefted a giant Douglas fir to its full height.
God love teenagers for being so blissfully self-centered. Sam didn’t give any indication that he’d picked up on the sparks flying between her and Dylan.
Dylan laughed and shifted closer to Carrie. “I think we’re going to have a Griswold family Christmas trying to wrestle that thing into the rental house.”
Sam’s brows furrowed. “Are the Griswolds friends of yours from Boston? Tell me they aren’t like that Steven dude.”
Carrie smothered a smile as Dylan gaped at the kid. “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. It’s a movie. The best Christmas movie ever.”
“I thought you hated everything about Christmas because it’s a holiday engineered to elicit fake emotions,” Sam said in a perfect imitation of Dylan’s rumbly tone.
“I’m not sure hate is the right word.” Dylan massaged a hand along the back of his neck and Carrie noticed color rising to his cheeks. “That might have been too strong.”
She’d fallen for the tough bad boy a decade earlier, but this version of Dylan—the “somewhat uncertain father figure willing to try anything for Sam” guy—was almost irresistible.
“So this Griswold movie is the best?” Sam asked.
“Yes,” Dylan said at the same time Carrie shook her head.
They both turned to look at her.
“Elf is the clear winner. Or maybe Miracle on 34th Street. There are so many classics.”
“I’ve seen Elf,” Sam told her. “Will Ferrell is hilarious.”
“Nothing compares to Chevy Chase,” Dylan argued. “We need to watch Christmas Vacation.” He nudged Carrie. “You should join us so you’ll be convinced.”
“We can watch after we decorate the tree,” Sam said with a hopeful smile. “I found a box of ornaments in the basement along with the fake tree we’re not using.”
Dylan shook his head. “You know that tree actually fits? This one is way too big.”
“The bigger, the better.” Sam’s smile turned cheeky. “Let’s take the big one home.”
Carrie glanced over at Dylan’s sharp intake of breath. He opened his mouth, closed it again and then shrugged. “Fine. The Rockefeller Center-size Christmas tree it is.”
As if on cue, Zak, one of the high school helpers, rounded the corner. “You buying the Sasquatch tree?” he asked with a nod, looking between Sam and the adults standing a few feet away.
Carrie held up her hands. “I’m just going to ring them up.”
“Y’all must have one of those great rooms with the vaulted ceiling,” Zak said, lifting his chin to take in the top of the tree.
Sam grinned but didn’t answer.
“Something like that,” Dylan said.
“I’m gonna need extra rope and another set of hands to get this monster out.”