18. Olivia
Chapter 18
Olivia
Landon was even quieter than usual this morning. He’d barely said two words to me when he entered the kitchen as I was rolling out dough for cinnamon rolls. I couldn’t even entice him with fresh coffee while he worked on cutting tile. He’d turned down my offer and went back to his task.
I’d just finished icing the cinnamon rolls when I heard Landon go into the bathroom to wash his hands like he did every morning when he finished his work for the day. I quickly placed six of them in a box and plastered on a smile. I was determined to make him talk to me.
When he pushed through the swinging door, I came around my worktable and stepped into his path. He eyed me warily as he took in my cheery expression. I was selling it hard, my dimples on full display and everything.
“How did everyone like the éclairs?” I asked conversationally. I assumed he shared them with his dad or the guys at the garage. That was why I always sent a half dozen of whatever item I made for him that day.
A muscle in his jaw flexed, and he glanced away uncomfortably. What the hell was that all about?
“There wasn’t a crumb left in the box,” he replied, almost as though he was angry about it. His voice was flat, and his eyes flared with irritation. My smile faltered, but I wouldn’t be deterred.
“Well, I hope everybody enjoys these just as much,” I announced, handing him the box of still warm cinnamon rolls. “It’s my nan’s recipe with a few tweaks to make them fluffier.”
He looked at it with disinterest and muttered his thanks before walking out the door.
I was at a loss. It didn’t appear that he’d softened to me at all despite trying to show him kindness. He was hell bent on hating me, and there was nothing I could do to change that.
There was one thing , a voice in the back of my mind reminded me. I could tell him the truth about that night. Then again, he probably wouldn’t believe me. I’d just be wasting my breath, and in the end, he would still hold a grudge against me. I sighed, resigned to be the villain in Landon’s version of our story.
Two hours later, I was finishing up a special order that needed to be delivered to the elementary school. Mina and Roxi were both here, so I let them know I was heading out and to call if they needed anything.
The more I worked with them, the more I wanted to stick around and see if I could really do this, if I could run the bakery just like my nan had always intended. I enjoyed what I did. Baking was my passion. It was an art form all on its own, and I lost myself to it, especially when I was stressed or worried. It made the decisions I was faced with that much harder, and I was running out of time. My job in Atlanta wouldn’t wait on me forever. I had a few more weeks of vacation time left, so the clock was ticking. Yet I hadn’t bothered to look for a buyer or talk to any real estate agents about selling the building. I was still holding out for … something. I just didn’t know what.
I pulled up to the elementary school and parked in a visitor spot. Hefting the boxes of cupcakes, I made my way to the entrance. The kindergarten class was having their end of the year party, and the teachers all pitched in to get a special treat for them. I had a blast making miniature graduation caps out of fondant to top each cupcake with. Perhaps it was a bit much for a bunch of six-year-olds who probably wouldn’t appreciate the extra effort I’d put into the decorations, but I thought it was cute.
I paused when I made it to the door, wondering how I would open it with my hands full. As I contemplated propping the boxes on one hip to free a hand—which could be risky if I didn’t maintain perfect balance—a voice called out from behind me.
“Let me get that for you.” Bobby Rawlins rushed to the door and gripped the handle, opening it wide so I could fit all the boxes through the doorway. The main office was guarded by the secretary who’d been there for as long as I could remember. She looked up at the sound of my approach and peered at me over the rim of her glasses.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her gaze scrutinizing. I felt like I was a kid again, coming to school late after oversleeping.
“I have cupcakes for the kindergartners,” I offered with a smile.
“I’ll let someone know you’re here,” she announced apathetically.
“I’m here to pick up Gracey for a dentist appointment,” Bobby announced, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The secretary nodded and picked up her phone.
Bobby turned to me, a beaming smile curving his lips beneath a dark, heavy mustache. He was a nice guy who always had a friendly word of greeting. Unlike his coworker, Landon. They worked together at the garage, and though I’d seen him around, I hadn’t talked to him since returning to town.
“I just wanted to thank you for all the goodies you’ve been sending to the garage with Landon,” he said. Well, that answered the question of what he did with my peace offerings. He was taking them to Murphy’s to share with the crew. It made sense. His dad was diabetic, so it probably wasn’t a good idea for him to bring home sugary treats.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, pleased that Landon and the guys were enjoying the baked goods, and they weren’t going to waste.
“I just don’t know how Landon resists,” he continued, shaking his head in disbelief. “He never eats any of it. He must be on one of those new-age gluten-free diets or something.” My smile faltered, and my stomach soured.
“Never?” I asked, searching for clarity. Maybe it was an exaggeration, and he just usually didn’t eat a lot of sweets.
“Not even once,” he confirmed, and my heart sank. No wonder Landon seemed so indifferent whenever I gave him a box of treats. He hadn’t even bothered to try them. He’d given them away like they were nothing to him. At least they didn’t end up in the trash, and someone got to enjoy the fruits of my labor.
“Although,” Bobby continued, his expression turning thoughtful, “he did walk in empty handed this morning, so maybe he finally tried them and what you sent was so good, he ate it all,” he said with a chuckle. My face fell, and his eyes widened at my expression.
“Unless … I mean…” Bobby tripped over his words as my mind reeled with possibilities. There was no way Landon had eaten all of those cinnamon rolls. He would’ve had the worst bellyache of his life or fallen into a sugar coma. So what had he done with them? Surely, he hadn’t left them in his truck. They would be a mushy, gooey mess after sitting in the hot sun all day. “If you didn’t send anything with him today, that’s totally fine,” Bobby said, breaking into my thoughts. “We don’t expect you to. I-it was just a nice treat, and we all appreciated it.”
I forced a smile and placed a comforting hand on Bobby’s arm. “I was busy this morning, so it must’ve slipped my mind. I’ll send something for you guys tomorrow.”
“You’re the best, Olivia. The guys and I will be sad when Landon’s done working at the bakery,” he joked. Before I could respond, the doors to the office opened, and two teachers came through. I handed over the boxes and thanked them for their order.
“It was nice seeing you,” I said to Bobby as I turned to leave.
“See you around!” Bobby called as his daughter burst through the door. She practically tackled him, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing her face to his chest. I silently slipped out the door and walked to my car, a sense of melancholy settling behind my ribs. Landon hadn’t touched even one of my creations. He’d all but rejected my peace offering. It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want Landon’s contempt. Hell, I would settle for indifference at this point. If I was going to consider sticking around town, I needed to make peace with him.
When I returned to the bakery, I checked on the girls up front. They had it under control, so I set to work cleaning up my mess from earlier. I’d been in a rush to get to the school and had left my workstation in disarray. Once my space was sparkling clean again, I gathered up the trash to take to the dumpster. I lifted the lid to toss in the bag, and something caught my eye. Bright midday sun reflected off the stark white box. Pulse pounding in my ears, I reached a trembling hand toward it. Instinctively, I knew what it was. It had the bakery’s emblem on it, and it was the exact same size as the box I'd given Landon this morning. I held my breath as I lifted the lid and breathed out a curse when I saw what was inside.
Cinnamon rolls.
Fuming, I stomped back inside and went to the sink, furiously scrubbing my hands. Maybe it was irrational. Maybe it was even a little ridiculous, but I was pissed. For the past few weeks, I’d tried to bridge the gap between Landon and me. I’d tried to bury the hatchet and move on from the past. I was tired of playing nice and trying to win him over. Maybe now it was time to reveal the truth.
Bracing my hands on the counter, I weighed my options. I couldn’t exactly broach the subject while he was working on the renovations, so I’d have to catch him outside of here. A plan began to formulate in my mind, and I quickly set to work. Pulling my apron over my head, I set out my mixing bowls and grabbed the almond flour from the cabinet. I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing my final peace offering. If this didn’t work, nothing would.
Just as I suspected, Landon's truck was the only one left at the garage when I pulled up. It wasn’t unusual for him to work late to finish up a car for a customer. I suspected that was how mine got fixed so quickly. Murphy had told me the parts wouldn’t be in until late on a Friday, and it would be Monday at the earliest before I could pick it up, but it was miraculously ready Saturday morning. Landon had wanted me gone, and I wouldn’t put it past him to spend his Friday night fixing my car to make that happen. Joke was on him. He wasn’t getting rid of me now.
All the bays were closed, but I could hear music playing from inside. He was definitely here. I knocked three times and waited.
“We’re closed,” a disgruntled voice called, and a grin tipped my lips. It was nice to know I wasn’t the only one he was terse with. I knocked again, this time more insistent. Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, and a moment later, it swung open.
“I said we’re—” Landon began, but the words fell away as he registered it was me on the other side. “Olivia.” His voice was softer than I’d ever heard, belying his surprise. His wide eyes blinked at me as though trying to determine whether I was real or just a figment of his imagination. “Wh-what are you doing here?” I ignored his question. I couldn’t do what I had planned through this slightly open door.
“Can I come in?” I asked.
Wordlessly, he stepped aside and motioned for me to enter. I walked through the door and was instantly hit with the scent of motor oil mixed with the spice of Landon’s cologne. I’d recognize his scent anywhere. It lingered in the bakery long after he was gone. Not even the fresh-baked cookies could snuff it out.
I glanced around, taking in my surroundings. There was a car with the hood popped and a light attached to the underside of it, highlighting the engine. I assumed that was what he was working on. The door clicked shut behind me, and I startled at the sound of the lock sliding into place. My heart rate skyrocketed, but I didn’t turn to face him. Instead, I continued my slow perusal of the space, walking along the perimeter of the lobby.
“What do you want, Olivia?” he asked, his tone brusque. I took my time, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a quick response. I wanted to make him squirm a little. Finally, I turned to face him, and my mouth went dry. He wore a pair of coveralls with the top half folded down and the sleeves tied around his waist to reveal the white tank top underneath. His strong, tan arms were bare of any clothing and covered in ink. I swallowed thickly and cleared my throat before replying. I couldn’t let on how he affected me or allow myself to be distracted from my purpose for being here.
“It’s come to my attention that you haven’t eaten any of the treats I made for you.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes, but he quickly schooled his features. He crossed his muscled arms over his thick chest and peered down his nose at me. His expression was menacing, his stance imposing, but I wouldn’t be deterred.
“It was mentioned that you might be on a gluten-free diet. If that’s the case, my apologies for not offering you something you could eat.” He watched me with an inscrutable expression as I closed the distance between us. “I wanted to rectify the situation, so I made some macarons for you. They’re made with almond flour,” I said, holding out a small box to him, but he didn’t move to take it. “No gluten,” I explained, pasting on a wide smile.
Finally, he took the box and tossed it unceremoniously onto the counter without sparing it a second glance.
“That’s not why I don’t eat your peace offerings, and you and I both know it.”
“Do we?” I challenged, and he gritted his teeth. Fire burned in his searing gaze, but I didn’t back away. He was used to me relenting and not pushing too hard. But I was sick of this constant tension. The air was thick with it when he was around. It was nearly suffocating at times. It was well past time to clear the air.
“You know, I thought after all this time, you would’ve gotten over everything that happened,” I said, fully aware of how my comment would affect him. He scoffed, uncrossing his arms and taking a menacing step toward me.
“Gotten over it?” he growled. “You nearly killed my brother!” Fury burned in his eyes, and his nostrils flared. He continued toward me, and I took a tentative step back. “You ended his football career with your careless, irresponsible choices. You stole his future. Then, to add insult to injury, you left. You didn’t call. You didn’t text, and you sure as shit didn’t come to see him.”
He prowled slowly toward me like a jungle cat ready to strike. Every muscle in his body was pulled tight as a bow string. His hands were balled into fists at his sides.
“You ruined our lives. My entire family has suffered because of you!” he spat, and I flinched. This was the most emotion I’d ever seen from him. Usually, it was his quiet disdain and indifference he showed me, but tonight, he was finally letting loose.
And it hurt. His words hit their intended target. I always knew he blamed me for the accident and everything that followed, but to hear it straight from his mouth stung.
“My family fell apart, and you ran off to school to fulfill your dreams. My dad was so busy trying to take care of Lyle, he didn’t take care of himself and ended up losing half his leg. Now he can’t work. Lyle has been in and out of rehab more times than I can count all because he got hooked on pain pills following the accident you caused,” he proclaimed, pointing a finger at my chest. I tried to retreat, but the wall at my back stopped me. Flattening my hands against the cool cinder block, I heaved a deep breath.
Tears welled in my eyes, and I pinched them shut to stem the flow. I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn’t let him continue to blame me. I didn’t cause that wreck, and I would no longer be vilified because of it.
“That wreck was Lyle’s fault,” I cried, and he froze. A pained expression flashed across his features before anger settled over his face once more. The hand pointing at me was suddenly on my face gripping my jaw just above my throat, his thumb and middle finger nearly brushing each pulse point. My heart thundered against my ribs, and my chest heaved as I sucked in a gasp of surprise. This was the first time Landon had ever voluntarily touched me. A mixture of fear and intrigue swirled in my gut as I fought to draw in breath. He leaned in, bracing his free hand on the wall next to my head. He was so close, I could smell the scent of spearmint gum on his breath.
“Keep my brother’s name out of your mouth,” he growled in warning. His eyes bore into mine as the flames of his ire danced in those icy blue depths. I sucked in a sharp breath, stunned by the intensity of his stare.
His gaze fell to my parted lips, and my heart rate shot into a gallop. For a moment I thought he might kiss me. And I contemplated letting him. It was crazy, totally insane to even entertain that thought. But there was an electric charge humming between us, an undeniable attraction that drew us together like opposite ends of a magnet. His grip on me was tight enough to send a message but gentle enough not to hurt. It was almost … possessive.
His body was so close, I felt the heat from his skin through my clothes. It sizzled in the minuscule space between us. I tentatively reached up and curled my fingers around his wrist, unsure whether I wanted him to release me or hold me tighter. His touch sent a thrill of excitement zinging down my spine and through my limbs. What was wrong with me that I enjoyed being touched like this?
The moment he registered my touch, he dropped his hand as though I’d burned him. He stepped back and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
“You need to leave,” he warned.
“Fine,” I agreed, righting the strap of my tank top that had slid down my arm when he pressed me against the wall. Landon winced, and a wave of regret washed over him. “If you want to keep living with the lie, then so be it. But if you ever want to know what really happened that night, you know where to find me.” With that, I pushed past him and bolted for the door.
And he didn’t bother to stop me.