42
" What about your Durango?”
“She’s pretty banged up. Gonna need some bodywork and a whole new windshield.”
“She?”
He looks at me blankly. “What?”
“You called it a ‘she,’” I point out.
“Oh. Right.” Color creeps into his cheeks. “Dana Durango.”
“You named your car Dana?”
He just shrugs.
“Oookay. You need any help?”
“Nah, I’m just about done here.” He pauses, eyeing me sharply. “You sleep well?”
“Yeah, I was out like a light,” I lie, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “You?”
He shrugs. “It was awfully warm up there.”
“Huh,” is all I say.
“Did you eat breakfast?” he asks.
“Not yet. I will as soon as I take the dogs in. What about you?”
“Nah. I was waiting for you. Just let me clean up, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“Sounds good.” Okay, we are just so awkward now. This is crazy. I can’t even imagine sitting across the kitchen table from him, trying to make small talk. This is painful enough as it is. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
43
" All I can think about is that English project due this week.” I look over at Ryder with a faux scowl. “We’re already way behind--you’ve always got some excuse. We should probably work on it tonight.”
“Probably so,” Ryder says with an exasperated-sounding sigh.
“That’s the third project the two of you have been paired up on,” Mama says, shaking her head. “I hope you two can behave well enough to get your work done properly. No more arguing like the last time.”
We’d pretended to fight over a calculus project. Yes, a calculus project. Is there really any such thing?
“We’re trying really hard to behave,” I say, shooting Ryder a sidelong glance. “Right?”
His cheeks pinken deliciously at the innuendo. I love it when Ryder blushes. Totally adorable.
“Right,” he mumbles, his gaze fixed on his lap. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
44
" You want to do what?” Ryder asks, his voice laced with disbelief.
I take a deep breath before answering. “I want to go to film school next year. In New York City. Instead of Ole Miss,” I clarify, in case he doesn’t get it.
His gaze meets mine, and I expect to see judgment there in his eyes. I brace for the criticism, for the rebuke that’s sure to follow my declaration.
Instead, his eyes seem to light with something resembling…admiration? “Seriously, Jem? That’s awesome,” he says, smiling now. His dimples flash, the fear seemingly vanished from his face.
“You really think so?” I ask hesitantly. “I mean, I know it seems a little crazy. I’ve never even been to New York before.”
“So?” He scoots closer, so close that I can smell his now-familiar scent--soap and cologne mixed with rain. “If anyone can take care of themselves, you can.” He rakes a hand through his dark hair. “Damn, Jemma, you just shot a cottonmouth clean through the head. New York will be a cakewalk after that.”
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Well…it’s not exactly the same thing. I won’t be…you know…shootin’ stuff up there. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
45
" Beneath the table, Ryder releases my hand and lays it open in my lap, palm up. And then I feel him tracing letters on my palm with his fingertip.
I. L. O. V. E. Y.O.U.
I can’t help myself--I shiver. I shiver a lot when Ryder’s around, it turns out. He seems to have that effect on me.
“Are you cold, Jemma?” Laura Grace asks me. “Ryder, go get her a sweatshirt or something. You two are done eating, anyway. Go on. Take her into the living room and light the fire.”
“Nah, I’m fine,” I say, just because I know the old Jemma would have argued.
“Well, go work on your project, then. It’s warmer in the den.”
“My room’s like an oven,” Ryder deadpans, and I have to stifle a laugh, pretending to cough instead. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
46
" I guess their plan to escape each other didn’t work out so well after all, did it, now? I’m sure they never even imagined--”
“I just hope they don’t kill each other,” Daddy interrupts.
“They’ll be fine,” Mr. Marsden answers.
“Well, I guess we won this round, didn’t we?” Mama says, her voice full of obvious delight.
I glance at up Ryder, dressed for Sunday dinner--khakis, plaid button-down with a T-shirt beneath. His spiky hair is sticking up haphazardly, his dimples wide as he smiles down at me with so much love in those deep, dark chocolate eyes of his that it lights up his whole face. And me? I’m so happy when I’m with him that Nan says I glow, that a bright, shining light seems to radiate off the pair of us wherever we go.
Despite their gloating, it’s easy to see that they didn’t win, our parents. Nope.
We won. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
47
" I can’t hurt to apply,” he says with a shrug. “Right? Besides, they might change their minds once you get accepted.”
“If I get accepted.”
“I’m willing to bet you will.”
“Wow, you’ve got a lot of confidence in someone you don’t even like.”
A crash of thunder delays his reply. When it comes, it’s unexpectedly quiet. “What makes you think I don’t like you?”
Feeling suddenly vulnerable, I drag a pillow into my lap. “Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve said so? Like, a million times.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve never said I don’t like you.”
“I’m pretty sure you have. Remember that fight we had a couple of weeks ago? At Mama’s party?”
“You said you hated me,” he argues. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
48
" I’m vaguely aware of the sound of approaching footsteps, but it takes me a second to make the connection--to remember why I’d come out here in the first place.
“Jemma?”
Damn. I sit up and pull the earbuds from my ears, swinging my legs over the side of the table.
“Figured I’d find you out here,” Ryder says, drawing up beside me.
I decide to act surprised. “What are you doing here?”
His brow creases. “I told you I was coming, remember?”
“Oh. Right.”
“By the way, you might want to call your parents and tell ’em where you are.”
I shrug. “Did you see Nan?”
“Yeah. She looks okay, considering she just had brain surgery. She’s awfully quiet, though.”
“It’s better when she’s quiet,” I mutter, remembering the way she yelled at me for not plumping her pillow just so after dinner. “Trust me. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
49
" It doesn’t feel right. Not now.”
“But you’re the same, Jemma. You haven’t changed. This is what you want, remember?”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I have changed. And”--I shake my head--“I don’t even know what I want anymore.”
He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but closes it just as quickly. A muscle in his haw flexes as he eyes me sharply, his brow furrowed. “I thought you were stronger than this,” he says at last. “Braver.” I start to protest, but he cuts me off. “When I get home, I’m going to e-mail you these video files. I don’t know anything about making films, but if you need any help, well…” He shrugs. “You know my number.”
With that, he turns and walks away.
I leap to the ground. “Ryder, wait!”
He stops and turns to face me. “Yeah?”
“I…about Patrick. And then…you and me. I feel awful about it. Things were so crazy during the storm, like it wasn’t real life or something.” I take a deep, gulping breath, my cheeks burning now. “I don’t want you think that I’m, you know, some kind of--”
“Just stop right there.” He holds out one hand. “I don’t think anything like that, okay? It was…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Shit, Jemma. I’m not going to lie to you. It was nice. I’m glad I kissed you. I’m pretty sure I’ve been wanting to for…well, a long time now.”
“You did a pretty good job hiding it, that’s for sure.”
“It’s just that…well, I’ve had to listen to seventeen years’ worth of how you’re the perfect girl for me. And goddamn, Jem. My mom already controls enough in my life. What food I eat. What clothes I wear. Hell, even my underwear. You wouldn’t believe the fight she put up a few years back when I wanted to switch to boxer briefs instead of regular boxers.”
I swallow hard, remembering the sight of him wearing the underwear in question. Yeah, I’m glad he won that particular battle.
“Anyway, if my parents want it for me, it must be wrong. So I convinced myself that you were wrong for me. You had to be.” His gaze sweeps across my face, and I swear I feel it linger on my lips. “No matter what I felt every single time I looked at you.”
Oh my God. I did the exact same thing--thinking he had to be wrong for me just because Mama insisted we were a perfect match. Now I don’t know what to think. What to feel. What’s real and what’s a trying-to-prove-something fabrication.
But Ryder…he gets it. He’s lived it too.
I let out a sigh. “Can you imagine how different things would be if our families hated each other? If they were feuding like the First Methodists and the Cavalry Baptists?”
“I bet it’d be a whole lot less complicated, to tell you the truth. Heck, we probably would’ve already run off together or something by now.”
“Probably so,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
51
" Ryder turns off the radio and reaches for my camera, pointing it at me in the dark. It beeps, and a red light indicates that he’s filming. “Are you scared, Jemma?”
I prop my head up on one elbow. “Yeah, I’m scared,” I say, carefully weighing my words. “But…we’ll be okay. This house has weathered plenty of storms through the years. It’ll keep us safe.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I hear him swallow hard. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”
“I’m glad you are too,” I say automatically. But then…I realize with a start that it’s true. I am glad he’s here. I feel safe with him. More relaxed than I would be otherwise. He thinks I’m distracting him, making him forget his fears. But the truth is, he’s helping me just as much. Maybe more. I’m pretty sure I’d be a blubbering mess right about now if I were alone.
“Thanks, Ryder,” I say, my voice thick.
“For what?”
“Everything.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Turn off the camera, okay?”
He does, setting it aside before stretching out on the far side of the bed, facing me. Our gazes meet, and my stomach flutters nervously. There’s something there in his dark eyes, something I’ve never seen before. Vulnerability…mixed with a kind of dark, melty chocolate expression that I don’t recognize.
Our hands are lying there on the bed between us, nearly touching. I lift my pinkie, brushing it against his. Chills race down my spine at the contact, my heart pounding against my ribs.
I hear his breath catch. Slowly, his hand moves over mine, his fingertips brushing my knuckles until his entire hand covers mine. His skin is hot, the pressure reassuring. A minute passes, maybe two. It’s almost like he’s waiting, watching to see if I pull my hand away.
I don’t.
In one quick movement, he slides his hand under mine and threads our fingers together.
We lie like that for several minutes, arms outstretched, hands joined, eyes wide open. The storm continues to rage around us, but it’s like we’re locked in this safe, calm place where nothing can touch us.
My breathing slows; my limbs grow heavy. My lids flutter shut. I try to resist, but it’s futile. I’m exhausted.
I drift off to sleep with a smile on my lips, Ryder holding me fast. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
53
" It takes me nearly a half hour to make what should be a ten-minute trip, and by the time I pull up in front of my house, my hands are cramped from my death grip on the steering wheel.
It’s not until I step out of the car, my legs feeling like they’re made of Jell-O, that I notice Ryder’s Durango parked in front of me.
“Where the hell have you been?” he calls out from the front porch, just as I make a mad dash to join him there. His face is red, his brow furrowed over stormy eyes. “They let us out an hour ago!”
I am really not in the mood for his crap. “Yeah, so?”
“So I was worried sick. A tornado touched down over by the Roberts’ place.”
“I know! I mean, I didn’t know it touched down, but I was still at school when the sirens went off.” I drop my ridiculously heavy backpack and shake the rain from my hair. “Is everyone okay over there?”
He runs a visibly trembling hand through his hair. “Yeah, it just tore up their fence or something. Jesus, Jemma!”
“What is wrong with you? Why are you even here?”
“I’m supposed to stay over here, remember?”
“What…now?” I look past him and notice an army-green duffel bag by the front door. He’s got a key--he could’ve just let himself in.
“I figured now’s as good a time as any. We need to put sandbags in front of the back door before it gets any worst out, and then we’ve got to do something about the barn. It’s awful close to the creek, and the water’s rising fast.”
“Well, what do you propose we do?”
“Don’t you keep your guns out there? We should move them inside. And your dad has some expensive tools in his workshop--we should get those, too.”
I let out a sigh. He’s got a point. “Can I at least go inside first? Put my stuff away?”
“Sure?” He moves to the edge of the porch and gazes up at the sky. “It looks like we might get a break in a few minutes, once this band moves through. Might as well wait for it.”
I dig out my keys and unlock the door. I can hear the dogs howling their heads off the minute I step inside. “I’ve gotta let Beau and Sadie out,” I say over my shoulder as I head toward the kitchen. “Take your stuff to the guest room and get settled, why don’t you?”
That’s my attempt at reestablishing the fact that I’m in charge here, not him. This is my house. My stuff. My life. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
56
" You know those tragic stories where two kids from feuding families fall in love? Okay, flip that inside out and turn it on its head and you’ve got our story, Ryder’s and mine.
It all began like this: On April 6, 1862, at the Battle of Shiloh, Captain Jeremiah D. Marsden--that’s Ryder’s ancestor--took a minié ball in the left kneecap. Corporal Lewiston G. Cafferty--that’s mine--picked up Captain Marsden and carried him off the field of battle to safety.
On his back. More than a mile. Barefoot.
At least, that’s how the story goes. Frankly, I’m a little skeptical, but whatever. The point is, the Marsdens and the Caffertys have been like this ever since. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
57
" Wow,” he says, looking around. “You’ve redecorated.”
“When was the last time you were in here?” I search my memory, browsing through images of a much smaller, shaggy-haired Ryder in my room. Eight, maybe nine?
“It’s been a while, I guess.” He moves over to my mirror, framed with photos that I’ve tacked up haphazardly on the white wicker frame. Mostly me, Morgan, and Lucy in various posed and candid shots. One of Morgan, just after being crowned Miss Teen Lafayette Country. A couple of the entire cheerleading squad at cheer camp.
I see his gaze linger on one picture in the top right corner. Curious, I move closer, till I can see the photo in question. It was taken on vacation--Fort Walton Beach, at the Goofy Golf--several years ago. Nan and I are standing under the green T-Rex with our arms thrown around each other. Ryder is beside us, leaning on a golf club. He’s clearly in the middle of a growth spurt, because he looks all skinny and stretched out. I’d guess we’re about twelve.
If you look through our family photo albums, you’ll probably find a million pictures that include Ryder. But this is the only one of him in my room. I’d kind of forgotten about it.
But now…I’m glad it’s here.
“Look how skinny I was,” he says.
“Look how chubby I was,” I shoot back, noting my round face.
“You were not chubby. You were cute. In that, you know, awkward years kind of way.”
“Thanks. I think. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
58
" We can’t walk through the house like this--we’ll make a mess.” Ryder’s jeans are soaked through and caked with mud. I’m wearing shorts, but my bare legs are spattered all over. “We’re going to have to strip here,” I say, shaking my head. “Just leave it all in a pile. I’ll toss it in the wash after lunch.”
He just stares at me, wide-eyed. “What? Now?”
“Yeah, you go first,” I say, amused by the blush that’s creeping up his neck. “Geez, Ryder. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in your underpants before.”
I have vague memories of Ryder running around Magnolia Landing’s lawn wearing nothing but superhero undies. And after all the years of shared beach houses and hotel suites, well…like I said, we were more like siblings when we were little.
“If it’ll make you more comfortable, I’ll turn around,” I offer.
“Nah, it’s fine.” He reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head in one fluid motion.
And then I remember why this was a bad idea. My mouth goes dry at the sight of his tanned, sculpted chest, his narrow waist, and jutting hip bones. Oh, man. What was I thinking?
I swallow hard as he unbuttons his jeans and slides down the zipper. Boxers or briefs? That’s all I’m thinking as he peels down the wet denim--slowly, as if he’s enjoying this little striptease. He steps out of them gracefully and tosses them into a heap beside his shirt before straightening to his full height, facing me.
Oh. My. God.
I exhale sharply. The answer is boxer briefs, heather-gray ones. And right now they’re clinging to him wetly, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. He looks like a god. A six-foot-four, football-playing god, and I am staring at him with my mouth hanging open like some kind of pathetic freak.
Snap out of it.
“Sorry,” I say, averting my gaze. My cheeks are burning now. I probably look like a clown. That’s what happens when a fair-skinned redhead like me blushes. “If you…um…want to shower. I mean, you know--”
“I’ll just go put on something dry for now. We really need to eat and then get that stuff out of the barn.”
I just nod, biting my lower lip. I can’t even look at him. This is crazy.
“Your turn to strip,” he says, and my gaze shoots up to meet his. He’s smiling now, his dimples in full effect.
“Ugh, just go and change.” I cover my eyes with one hand and flap the other toward the hall.
“I’ll meet you in the kitchen in five,” he says.
“Great.” I let my hand drop only when I hear his footsteps move away. Then yeah, I’ll admit it--I allow myself a nice long look at his backside as he walks away from me.
And let me tell you, it was well worth the look. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
60
" You think we should try sandbagging it?” I ask, tipping my head back toward the barn.
Ryder shakes his head. “I don’t think it’ll do much good.”
“Just in front, then? The gap’s pretty big under the door. It can’t hurt, right?”
“I’ve got a few sandbags in the Durango--probably enough for the door. I’ll get ‘em,” he offers. “You just make sure the door is latched tight.”
I want to say something along the lines of, “No, I’d thought I’d just leave it flapping in the wind,” but I manage to bite my tongue. What is it with him and giving orders? I mean, I get that he’s the quarterback and all, but I’m not one of his teammates.
But, hey, if he wants to thump his chest and carry the heavy sandbags, I’ll him do it. "
― Kristi Cook , Magnolia (Magnolia Branch, #1)
