Chapter 23
Magnolia
Spending the afternoon with Piper going over possible business plans is making this feel real.
Piper is the real business woman in all of this.
I feel like I’m tagging along for the ride at this point.
But she is fully on board with me running a bakery to keep the cash flow going.
Distilleries don’t start producing cash on day one.
Or at least ours won’t, since we’ll still be establishing a supply chain and customer base.
I wait until Nash calls and says he’s ten minutes away, then grab the box of cinnamon rolls and my bag for the weekend.
Piper just left for her night shift, and Charlie is on a date with a boy I don’t like, so there’s no one to say goodbye to when I walk out of the building. I stand in front of the main entrance while I wait for Nash to pull up and park.
He climbs out of the car, takes my duffel bag from me, and puts it in the trunk.
Then he walks back around and opens the passenger door for me.
He hasn’t smiled or said anything yet, so I’m guessing he’s still upset about me showing up yesterday.
I honestly didn’t realize that he was trying to break things off the night he tucked me into bed.
I was too busy admiring how strong and sweet he was, rather than listening to his words.
He’d been frustrated when I showed up, and I’d been thoroughly confused. Oh well, we can figure out the details of our breakup while we spend the weekend in Pine Ridge.
It’s not like I tried to trick him. I just think this is a good business opportunity. I’m not staying with him for his money. I only wanted a chance to submit a proposal to Alexander.
I smile at him sheepishly.
He just shakes his head and closes the door after I climb in.
He walks around to the driver’s side and starts the car, and we ride in silence until we’re out of Bend and heading east.
Finally, unable to handle the quiet anymore, I hold up the pan of cinnamon rolls. “I brought apology cinnamon rolls.”
He glances over as I lift the lid.
I pull one out, and it’s a sticky, gooey mess. It’s a good thing I remembered to stash a stack of napkins in my purse. I rummage for them and carefully wrap the cinnamon roll, so he won’t get frosting everywhere. I hold it out to him, but he doesn’t take it.
The corner of my mouth twitches, so I hold it closer and slowly wave it under his nose.
“It says, Eat me, eat me,” I say in a tiny, dramatic voice.
This time, a small smile sneaks onto his face. “Fine. I’ll eat your apology cinnamon roll.”
“Are you really that mad at me?”
“No. Maybe. Yes.”
“Which one is it?” I ask.
“I’m still deciding. We’ll see how good the cinnamon roll is.”
“If I’d known my apology baking would be judged on taste, I would’ve added extra butter.”
“Then we might be in the maybe category,” he says, “because I only love cinnamon rolls with extra butter on top of the frosting.”
My jaw drops. “You do that too?”
“All the time. Especially if it’s a cinnamon roll that’s still warm.”
I sigh reverently. “When you put a slab of butter on top and it melts on top of the frosting—”
“Agreed,” he says, driving with one hand and taking a bite with the other. He chews, then nods. “Okay. Fine. I forgive you.”
“Here, have another one.”
I reach for the pan again, but he shakes his head.
“Save it for me. For the next stretch of the drive. I want to ration this deliciousness.”
I hesitate. “I thought about it last night. And if you intended to break things off with me, why didn’t you tell your grandpa yesterday? You had plenty of time to do it before I showed up.”
“I thought I was going to tell him,” he says “but something held me back. He kept talking about how much he liked you, and then he had a coughing fit, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to tell him the truth.
He was excited to see you. So, I really can’t be mad at you for wanting to make business connections when I’m tempted to ask you to go along with this charade indefinitely. ”
“I’m fine with that,” I tell him.
And I realize I actually am fine with it. What else would I do? It’s not like I have someone waiting in the wings to jump into a relationship with me. The dream of finding someone who wants to spend their life with me—raise a family, run a business—is starting to feel more distant as time goes on.
All my other friends are married with a couple of kids by now.
Charlie and Piper and I only became friends after we moved in together, so they don’t count.
I’m not sure how, but searching for roommates online was how we all found each other.
But for the grace of God, we’d all be on a Netflix special.
Instead, we came out of the deal as best friends.
“Do you have someone you need to explain this relationship to?” Nash asks.
“What?”
“I mean a boyfriend.
I snort. “Oh, I had to send a group text to my five boyfriends and tell them we were putting things on pause for a bit. They were very understanding and said to let them know when I was done being a fiancée.”
Nash shoots me a look, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t think that’s as funny as you think it is.”
“Well, I thought it was pretty funny.” I chuckle, then sober.
“Magnolia Hawthorne.” He scowls as he says my name.
“Oh I bet you wish you knew my middle name,” I say in a singsong voice. “Shouldn’t you have asked about potential boyfriends earlier?”
“It didn’t even cross my mind,” he admits.
“Whoopsie daisy.”
“I’m serious though. You’re a stranger to me, and I dragged you into this mess. I think that’s why I was angry yesterday. I feel like I’ve lost control of the situation.”
“Well, would you look at that?” I say lightly. “You can’t control every aspect of life. It’s a hard pill to swallow, isn’t it?”
Nash shakes his head. “You have no idea.”
“Actually,” I say quietly, “I think maybe I do.”
He knows I’m right.
“I’ve been so focused on my own problems that it’s selfish to think I’m the only one trying to figure things out. Everybody is.”
He slows the car as he turns to look at me. “I’m sorry that I dragged you into this. And then trying to break it off when Grandpa offered you a space to start your business. You’re probably getting whiplash from my mood swings.”
I nod slowly and wait for him to say more.
I’d like to point out the fact that he seems miserable dealing with his extended family, and that maybe if he were to step away from a toxic situation, he would find his mood would stabilize.
Though I think he’s being dramatic calling it mood swings. He’s simply stressed and needs a break.
“Yet you’ve shown up and been kind to my grandpa anyway. You would have done that for me without any money.”
“Well, not to hurt your feelings, but I like your grandpa. And you did pay me, even though I said not to.”
“He’s grumpy,” Nash mutters, ignoring the money topic. “Except with you for some reason.”
“Maybe I bring out his heart of gold that’s buried.”
“That’s what you think,” he teases.
“I see a lot of similarities between you two.”
“Like what?”
“The determination?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he replies.
“When you’re concentrating on getting your way, you get this crease in the center of your forehead.” I reach over and tap his forehead, where the crease is forming. “And you usually have that crease whenever you talk to me. Like maybe I’m a problem to be solved.”
I smile brightly at him as he tries to smooth his features.
“You’re not a problem.”
“Then why are you always frowning?”
He sighs. “Because I have too many actual issues to solve.”
I slip out of my sweater, feeling overheated with this conversation. “When I first met you, I thought you were all charm. You were so adorable.”
“And now I’m not?” He actually sounds offended. His hand flexes against the middle console.
I reach over and pat the back of his hand. “You’re like one of those candies that’s sweet on the outside and sour in the middle.”
I love getting a rise out of this man. And it’s so easy.
His hand moves faster than I can see and latches onto my leg just above my knee. He squeezes, making me shriek with laughter.
“Nash! You’re driving!”
“Exactly. If you try to hit me, we’ll go in the ditch.” His grin is diabolical.
He keeps squeezing my knee, never hurting me, just making me gasp for air between laughter.
“Do you take it back?”
“Yes! I take it back! Mercy!” I suck in a breath as he finally pulls his hand away.
He has a happy grin on his face now. “Well, I definitely feel better.”
“Yes, well, I was wrong,” I admit as I smooth my hair that’s now everywhere. “You’re just sour through and through.”
That relentless hand is back before I even blink.