Steal My Magnolia (Love at First Sight #3) - Karla Sorensen Page 0,6

someone walking past him, my eyes narrowed.

Grady Buchanan.

New to town in the past few months, he was not someone I'd met yet. I was, however, very acquainted with his twin sister, Grace. Also known as the woman who moved to town and managed to upend my carefully constructed life when she proved too irresistible for my longtime boyfriend, Tucker.

Despite how maudlin that sounded, there was no real drama behind it. He and I had been together too long and had gotten far too comfortable, so his breaking up with me to pursue a relationship with Grace had probably been a good thing. I didn't hold any ill will against Grace, per se.

All I knew about Grady was that he was trying to start a new business in town, though I'd prejudged him a bit for not immediately joining the Chamber. I also knew he'd struggle to find a foothold doing what he wanted to do; run guided hikes and camping trips in the greater Green Valley area. Our tourist numbers weren't high enough to sustain something like that.

As I watched him unload a massive box from the back of his vehicle, hefting it easily into his muscular arms, an idea lit somewhere in the darkest parts of my brain.

It felt like freedom and held a dangerous edge that I'd never dared to approach.

He'd have no preconceived notion of who I was. No built-in bias of how to handle the daughter of J.T. MacIntyre.

And as he struggled to open the door to the office space, almost dropping the box in the process, I found my lip curving into a slight smile. He'd also need help. A lot of help from someone who knew this town, knew this state, had been born with the gift of organization, and had the Lord's own patience.

Something unlocked behind my chest. Something rusty and unused. Almost like a bird who was trying out its wings after a long rehabilitation.

It was hope. And it looked an awful lot like Grady Buchanan.

Chapter 2

Grady

"Where did you go, you little asshole? You were right here a second ago," I murmured. The empty office space didn't answer me. Neither did the pile of crumpled receipts as I rifled through them.

One large purchase order had up and walked away. It was the only explanation. And that was not acceptable, because if I was going to start this business, I was going to start on the right foot.

In theory, I was doing well. But that theory was flimsy, and I refused to think about what might happen if it crumbled under the weight of reality.

The money I'd been saving for years was my jumping-off point. The springboard I'd slowly built for the past five years while I slaved away behind a computer.

I had a partner in the form of Tucker, even if that was a nominal partnership at best, given that we had approximately zero customers. But those would come, I had to believe. I just needed someone to do ... everything else that I sucked at. Like figuring out how to organize all this bullshit.

Did I want clear bins?

Or inventory straight on the racks?

How much inventory did I really need?

That depended entirely on the number of customers I managed to bring in. If I would be focusing more on small day hikes with groups or if I could build a steady stream of overnight trips that included camping too.

My thumb tapped against the surface of the desk, and I struggled to breathe through the press of panic on my chest. "This wasn't a mistake," I said for the hundredth time that week. "This is a good idea."

The panic, something I could normally push down with two hands, built into something bigger and heavier, and I felt it spread to the back of my neck and down to the stretch of skin between my shoulder blades.

If this failed, I'd have to go back to doing a job that I hated.

If this failed, and I had to face people like Tucker or Grace or my dad and admit that moving to Green Valley had been a mistake, I couldn't handle it.

I took a deep breath and repeated something I'd always heard Memaw say. "Lord, if you're listening, save this wretch from the wreck I've found myself in."

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than my cell phone rang.

Blinking stupidly at the small piece of plastic, I couldn't help how the hair on the back of my neck lifted. The timing was probably