8. Landon
Chapter 8
Landon
Fucking Olivia Duprey. When Dean said the bakery was under new ownership, I thought he meant someone bought it. Instead, it had simply passed to Odette’s granddaughter. The granddaughter who’d tucked tail and run when things got tough, leaving her grandmother to deal with the aftermath of her actions.
Sure, it had been a relief when I returned from deployment and found that Olivia had moved away. After what she’d put my family through, I was happy to see her gone. Good riddance. But it didn’t sit well with me that she’d run like a coward instead of staying and facing what she’d done. She didn’t care that it devastated her grandmother. She didn’t care that the whole town was rocked by the accident or that my family had to pick up the pieces left behind from her poor decisions. No, she hid from it, from all of us. And her grandmother suffered for it.
It was obvious Olivia’s absence hurt her. Lyle had once told me Odette was more like a mother to Olivia, that she’d practically raised her. When Olivia left, Odette put on a brave face, but she no longer had that spark she always carried or the twinkle that lit up her deep brown eyes, eyes I couldn’t help but notice matched Olivia’s. They’d dimmed after Olivia left, and it was a damn shame no one would ever see them sparkle again.
Shaking away those thoughts, I began tearing into the wall. The room was divided by a sheet of plastic to keep the dust out of the main dining area where the bakery case was located. It would keep the dust away from the customers when they came in to pick out their treats. However, it didn’t keep out the scent of said treats.
The smell of freshly baked bread mixed with the tartness of fresh berries and sweet cream created a mouthwatering aroma that wafted through the air. It was sweet and savory all at once. Herbs from the bread and the sugary scent of pies, cakes, and cookies combined to create the most decadent and heavenly perfume. It was almost too much.
My stomach growled as I swung my sledgehammer, taking down a large portion of the awkward half wall Olivia wanted gone. She wanted to update the space, but to what end? Did she plan to stay and run the bakery now that Odette was gone, or would she sell it to the highest bidder once the renovations were completed?
What did I care? Olivia was nothing to me. If she chose to sell it and return to her life in Atlanta, all the better. But if she decided to stay…
I groaned at the thought. I’d have to see her around town and hear people talk about her. Her treats would be at every social gathering, church function, and school fundraiser, just like Odette’s had been. There would be no escaping her then.
It didn’t matter. I had to finish this job. My work had to be up to par and done on time. If swallowing my pride meant getting the funds to cover the new roof for Dad’s house, I could do it. I just hoped it didn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
Two hours later, I was gathering up old drywall and two-by-fours when the air in the room shifted. Even with a sheet of heavy-duty plastic separating us, Olivia’s presence still prickled my skin. She waited for me as I finished cleaning. I didn’t rush, though. I felt no compunction to cater to her time frame and relished the annoyed pinch of her brow when I finally pushed the plastic aside and stepped through the barrier.
She crossed her arms over her middle as she wearily eyed the space behind me, no doubt worrying about the quality of my work. Pushing down my annoyance, I eyed her flatly, waiting for her to speak. Her eyes finally settled on mine, the chocolate brown orbs filling with unease.
“Looks like a kill room in there,” she said, releasing a nervous laugh. “You’re not going to off me, wrap me up in that plastic, and feed me to the gators, are you?”
My brows lifted in surprise, but I quickly schooled my expression. I hadn’t expected that joke to come from her mouth. At the same time, I wasn’t entirely certain it was a joke. I shrugged, unable to resist the urge to feed into her discomfort.
“You never know. Dexter had a normal day job too.”
Another nervous laugh left her lips, the high pitch revealing her discomfort. “Right,” she agreed, her eyelids fluttering anxiously. “I, uh, have a favor to ask,” she continued then winced. I was the last person in Magnolia Grove who would ever grant her a favor. Still, I remained silent, equally curious and intrigued by what she might ask me to do. “I have something I need you to take to Murphy.”
She turned and motioned for me to follow her. I entered the kitchen, and the smells from earlier hit me full force. Loaves of bread filled one countertop while trays of assorted baked goods covered her work surface. How she’d made all this in the time I’d been here was a mystery. Wonder at her skill filled my chest, but I pushed it away. The truth was, I didn’t want to be impressed. I didn’t want to see what all she’d accomplished since she’d left. Her accomplishments meant nothing to me, not when she was the reason my family had lost everything.
She turned to me and opened her mouth to speak, but a timer dinged, cutting off what she was about to say. She glanced at the oven and bounced on her toes like an excited child. Looking back at me, she held up a finger. “Give me just a minute. The croissants are done.” Her voice changed, her accent curling around the word croissant in the way of the French. It was no surprise since she’d spent the summer in Paris studying under a world-renowned pastry chef a few years ago. Her mother made sure everyone in town knew about it. While I was doing my best to hold my family together, she was living it up in Europe making all her dreams come true.
Tamping down my anger, I waited for her to pull the baking sheet from the oven and place it on the only square of empty space left in the kitchen. She pulled off her oven mitts and tossed them aside before grabbing a box. She approached me tentatively as though worried I might lash out at her, and I softened my expression.
“Could you take this to Murphy?” she asked and handed me the box. I peered down at it suspiciously. “I made him a strawberry rhubarb pie. It’s his favorite,” she added sheepishly, and the sight was almost endearing. Almost. Anyone else would’ve been fooled by her act, but not me. I knew what really hid beneath that warm smile and those wide, innocent eyes. Leaving the box in my hands, she grabbed a carafe from the counter and thrust it at me as well. “This too,” she added as I shifted the pie to one hand and tucked it under my arm. “He told me he loved the coffee here, so I thought I’d send some with the pie. It’s just a little thank you for getting my car done so fast.”
My back teeth ground together as I took in her bashful expression. I was the one who had finished her car. And I’d had to talk Murph into letting me stay late to do it. There was no way I’d tell her that, though. She would think I’d done it out of the kindness in my heart, when really, I’d just wanted her out of my town faster. Too bad it hadn’t worked.