7. Olivia
Chapter 7
Olivia
The streets of Magnolia Grove were quiet as I meandered through town. It wasn’t yet six in the morning, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Entering through the back door of the bakery, I stepped inside and went straight to the kitchen. Just like Saturday, memories assaulted me the moment I flipped on the lights and took in the space. I wasn’t ready for this, but I also didn’t think it would get any easier. The bakery needed to be opened. It had been closed since the day Nan passed away, and everyone I’d encountered the last few days asked when it would open again. Apparently, they felt I had grieved long enough.
Despite my reluctance to run the bakery, I had to bring in some revenue. The bills still needed to be paid, and the bakery’s employees needed their hours. While I still was uncertain about the future of Sugar & Sage, it would be nice to have a distraction while I waited for the deeds to be transferred into my name. I didn’t want to leave until everything was finalized.
Thankfully, I was able to stick around for a while since I’d racked up plenty of vacation time. That was what happened when you rarely took a day off or called in sick. My boss had graciously allowed me to use as much of that time as I needed. It would go quickly, though, and I’d eventually have to make a choice. I just hoped the renovations were done before then. Maybe the path would be clearer once the shop was fixed up, and I’d have more time to grieve and come to terms with the purest soul I knew no longer walking this earth.
Thankfully, Dean Sullivan planned to send someone out today to get started on the demo. He was hesitant at first to promise a quick turnaround on the job since all his usual guys were busy on other work sites, but he had someone in mind who could come in before the bakery opened in the mornings. It was as though the heavens smiled upon me for the first time in weeks. The arrangement was perfect since no construction would occur while the bakery was open. We’d have to close off most of the dining area, but patrons could still purchase their goods. They would just have to take their orders to-go until renovations were completed.
Popping in my earbuds, I selected my favorite playlist and gathered my supplies. My bread would need time to rise, so I started on it first. Once I had it prepared, I set it aside and began rolling out dough for my pie crust. I was lost in my music and shaking my hips to the beat when there was a tap on my shoulder. I spun around, my heart in my throat and my rolling pin raised in defense toward my would-be attacker. My arm was poised to strike a devastating blow, but a large hand wrapped around my wrist, and my body was pressed into the counter behind me. My chest heaved, and my heart rate spiked as I struggled against the iron-clad hold the assailant had on my wrist. Striking blue eyes seared into me from beneath dark, furrowed brows. They were familiar, yet they didn’t put me at ease. They’d glared at me with hatred too many times to find comfort in them.
“L-Landon?” I squeaked out, my voice trembling. He reached out with his free hand and plucked an earbud from my ear.
“Do you think you could lower your weapon now?” he asked, his gaze flicking to my rolling pin still suspended in the air above us. I followed his line of sight to where he gripped my wrist and traveled the length of his arm to the chest that nearly brushed against mine as it rose and fell with every ragged breath I took. He stood so close, I could smell the peppermint on his breath. My skin hummed with awareness. I told myself it was fear that had my blood pumping and not the man who stood mere inches from me. Sure, Landon was attractive in that classically rugged way with his dark, expertly tousled hair and sharp jaw, but that was all he had going for him. He was surly and mad at the world. I understood life had dealt him a shitty hand, but it took effort to be that angry all the time.
Or maybe he was only angry with me. Maybe I was the only one who saw him like that since he blamed me for all his woes.
He quirked a brow as if waiting for my answer, and I pinched my eyes shut. I drew in a deep, calming breath before answering.
“That depends. What are you doing in my kitchen?” He tilted his head to the side, studying me. A muscle in his jaw ticced, and his eyes visibly dimmed. He released me and took a step back.
“I knocked several times, but there was no answer. The door was unlocked so?—”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re here, though. Do you make a habit of just strolling into businesses before working hours?”
He ground his teeth together as he worked his jaw back and forth.
“I’m here to work on the renovations,” he said slowly as if trying to rein in his temper. My breath hitched, and my eyes widened in shock. Was he serious? Did Dean Sullivan really send Landon Crawford to work on my bakery?
This couldn’t be. Landon blamed me for everything that was wrong in his life. There was no way he would do this job right. He’d probably booby trap the door so I ended up hanging upside down by my ankle before turning a pack of raccoons loose on my kitchen. Did raccoons even run in packs?
“I don’t think so,” I replied, shaking my head with trepidation. He gritted his teeth, and that muscle in his jaw flexed again.
“I can assure you, I do quality work,” he ground out, his nostrils flaring in irritation. “But if my presence isn’t up to your,” he began, his gaze flicking down my form before landing on my face with a sneer, “standards, then you can wait until the next crew is freed up in July.”
He picked up a bag of tools I hadn’t noticed lying at his feet. He must have dropped it there when he came in, but I didn’t hear anything over the sound of Taylor crooning in my ears. Without sparing me another glance, Landon strode toward the door, and I saw my chance at having my bakery renovated before summer fly out the window. There was no way I could wait nearly three months for someone to start on it. I was desperate.
“Wait!” I called out in a panic. He stopped but didn’t turn to face me. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
His shoulders rose and fell with his deep inhale. Then he turned to face me, the uncertainty in his gaze overshadowed by his angry scowl.
“How exactly did you mean it then?”
I twisted Nan’s apron in my hands and chewed on the inside of my lip. “It’s just…” I began but struggled to find the right words. How did I tell him I didn’t think it was a good idea for him to work on a project for me without making him hate me even more? “You don’t exactly like me.” He scoffed as if that was the understatement of the year. “I imagine it would be difficult for you to work on a property I own.”
His jaw ticced, and his eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn’t name. It was gone in an instant, replaced by that ever-present crease between his brows. If he walked out that door right now, I would have to wait months to get my bakery renovated, but it would save me from having to endure Landon’s hateful scowl or the way he raked his unimpressed gaze up and down my body. He looked at me like the judge at the county fair studied a pig that was covered in its own shit.
“A job’s a job,” he said flatly. “This doesn’t need to be personal. I can be professional if you can.” There was challenge in his tone, and I got the impression he thought I might retreat, but I was made of stronger stuff than that.
“Of course. That won’t be a problem,” I offered sweetly, plastering a smile on my face. He studied me a moment, and I fought the urge to look away. My skin itched under his scrutiny, but I refused to avert my gaze and show him how he unnerved me. He finally nodded and broke eye contact, glancing past me toward the door that led to the storefront. I released the breath trapped in my lungs, and my shoulders slumped in relief.
“Lead the way,” he commanded, holding out a hand as though to summon me forward. I moved to the door, and he fell in step behind me. My skin prickled, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the steady thump of his boots followed me to the front of the shop. I flipped on the lights, and Landon took in the space around us. Pulling a small notebook from his back pocket, he flipped it open and clicked on his pen.
“Dean already told me what needed to be done, but I want to make sure we’re all on the same page,” Landon said, skimming his notes. I spent the next several minutes relaying my vision for the space to him. He occasionally scribbled something on his notepad but remained silent.
“The bakery needs to remain open during the renovations,” I added, biting the inside of my cheek nervously. “Dean assured me you would be able to keep the dust and debris contained so it wouldn’t interfere with the normal operations of the bakery.”
“Yep,” he replied simply, stuffing his pen and notebook back into his pocket.
Well, okay then.
“If you have any questions, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Great. I’ll get started,” he said flatly, his tone dismissive. I stood there, watching him nervously as he began to pull tools from his bag. Sensing my gaze on him, he turned his scowl on me, and the glare from his icy blue eyes burned into me.
“I don’t need a babysitter, Olivia. You’ll get exactly what you want.” I nodded and turned for the door. Before I disappeared into the kitchen, I heard him mutter in a low tone, “Just like you always do.”