Without thinking, I snapped a quick picture and sent it. Nothing about it was risky. Half my face, my shoulder, and in the background was the TV mounted on the wall, which was playing Home Alone. Also known as the greatest Christmas movie of all time.
My phone dinged, and all she sent was a picture back.
There might have been a TV, and I think it might have shown Home Alone, but all I could do was stare at that half of her face. My thumb traced the line of her bottom lip, and I felt my body react. Her hair was down—wonderfully curly, like it had been for the past couple of weeks—and underneath it, I could see a thin strap of white over the graceful curve of her shoulder.
A tank top maybe.
Somehow, I managed a response, but my hands were shaking.
Me: Great minds.
Me: Have a good night, Magnolia.
Magnolia: You too.
Magnolia: I think I'm going to work from home this week if you're okay with that.
Maybe the week would be good. Maybe I needed that to completely reset after the holidays. I sent her a thumbs-up.
Magnolia: See you after the New Year.
I sent another thumbs-up, like a jackass, because it's all I was capable of. I shoved my phone away from me, rolled on my back, and struggled to breathe evenly. One picture. One picture of half her face, and the line of her neck and shoulder, and I was acting like a kid who just saw his first nudie pic.
Boundaries existed for these exact reasons, and I knew just how careful I had to be. My hands ached to reach for the phone. My hands also ached to push my shorts down my hips and ease the ache that I felt when I thought about her for too long.
Instead, I turned off the TV, reached up and turned off the lamp next to my bed, and rolled over for a night of fitful sleep, plagued by dreams of her.
Almost January
The dream that woke me on New Year's Eve was the same one I'd had all week. The picture was long deleted off my phone because I didn't trust myself.
A week without one glimpse of her at the office, and I felt like I was dying.
I'd worked out more that week than I ever had before, and instead of it helping me sleep, it only served to take the slightest edge off any tension I felt when I thought of Magnolia.
But that tension came right back whenever I dreamed of her. It always started the same.
I was facing her in the office. In my dream, when my eyes landed on her mouth, full and soft-looking, I strode toward her and slanted my mouth over hers.
In my dream, Magnolia boosted herself up against the desk, wrapped her legs around my waist, and slid her hands around the back of my head while she slipped her tongue against my own.
In my dream, I found out how soft her skin was and how she moved against me restlessly.
In my dream, the surface of the desk was violently wiped clean and we fell against it, which was when it turned into a bed.
In my dream, she ripped at my shirt and I ripped at hers until they were gone.
In my dream, I tugged on her bottom lip with my teeth, soothed that spot with my tongue when she whimpered, then rolled my hips against her where we both needed satisfaction the most.
And just as I was pulling off her pants, and as she rushed to push off mine as well, sliding her hand underneath my boxer briefs, I woke up gasping. Woke up gasping and hard and in pain and frustrated.
Every. Single. Day. That week.
Cursed was an appropriate word.
I felt cursed. Plagued. Haunted.
And to punish myself, I'd decided to let that frustration build. Not to use my own hand to find the satisfaction that I wanted with Magnolia.
I didn't know what drove that self-flagellation, exactly.
But I did know that when I let Grace and Tucker drag me to a New Year's Eve party at the community center, I was in a terrible mood.
The parking lot was full, light and laughter and music spilling out from the open doors.
All I wanted to do was turn around and go back home and go to bed, and maybe, just maybe, tonight, both Magnolia and I would get a screaming, back-bending, long-awaited release in my dream. I kicked at a rock in the parking lot, then winced when it ricocheted off a truck's tire.
Grace tugged on my arm before we walked in. "Seriously, should I be worried about you?"
I sighed, tilting my head up at the dark winter sky. "No, don't be worried."
"You're a terrible liar." She waved Tucker inside the building, leaving me alone with my sister.
"I'm not lying." I finally met her gaze, and I could only imagine what she saw in my face. I'm sure my eyes had some shadows under them, and I definitely needed a shave. "I'll be fine. Just not sleeping great this week."
Grace opened her mouth, then closed it. She shook her head a little and then exhaled. "Someday, you'll tell me, brother." She squeezed my arm and then jogged into the building after Tucker.
From the darkness of the parking lot, I watched everyone inside dancing and talking and laughing. I recognized a lot of faces and didn't recognize just as many. But as a group of people moved aside, I saw the one I was looking for.
How did Levi do what he did for five years?
After eight days of not seeing her, I felt like a wilted plant that just got a cool drink of water.
Magnolia was wearing the same bright yellow dress that she'd worn at her interview, and I couldn't help but smile at it. It was so perfectly audacious, so perfectly her, to do something like that. But tonight, in her dark, curly hair—there was a bright yellow flower pinned next to her ear.
An elderly gentleman spun her around in a quick turn, and she tilted her head back to laugh.
This was Magnolia being herself.
I watched as Tucker nodded at her with his arm around Grace, and Magnolia smiled back. No one was watching them, no one was whispering, and she went back to dancing as if nothing had happened.
She was happy.
And I felt certain that I was doing the right thing.
Someday, I'd be able to tell her the truth when she was ready.
But it wasn't today.
Maybe I was a coward, to remove myself from situations where I'd be tempted by her mere presence, but I wasn't sure exactly how else to do it.
Maxine Barton pushed her walker out of the community center door and did a double-take when she saw me.
"Good God Almighty, Grady, you're gonna give me a heart attack, and believe me, that is not the way I plan on leaving this earth."
Maxine was a welcome distraction, and I smiled. "You've got a plan?"
"I will either be sleeping peacefully in my bed, or I will go out while some sixty-year-old silver fox makes me feel young again ... There'll be no other options."
"Can I walk you to your car?" I asked as I tried to stem my laughter.
"Might as well make yourself useful." She eyed me as she walked over the uneven ground. "Why aren't you going in?"
"Not feeling much like partying tonight, Miss Barton."
"Me neither. The older I get, the less I can handle crowds for too long."
She clicked the button on her key fob, and some headlights lit up on a sedan in front of us.
Maxine got in the driver's seat, and I folded up the walker for her, setting it carefully in the back seat. I tapped my fingers on the roof of her car and looked back at the community center. I thought about Magnolia in her lemon-yellow dress and how happy she was dancing.
I wanted to dance with her.
I wanted to kiss her at midnight.
Ringing in a new year on the calendar with her in my arms and her lips on mine sounded just about perfect.
And I knew I couldn't have that just yet.
"Maxine? Would you mind dropping me off at home? I don't want to make Grace and Tucker leave."
Through her open window, she eyed me curiously. Those eyes narrowed, but she didn't say anything and simply nodded.
Someday, I'd get a chance to do all those things.
But not today.
<
br /> Chapter 17
Magnolia
I should've stayed home.
It was my first thought when I got to my parents' house on New Year's Day. Every year, members of our extended family gathered to eat too much food and watch too much football. As I was growing up, it was one of my favorite days of the year. No one was working, it wasn't a work function (which caused a lot of unintentional family run-ins in a family like mine, whose reach was long in Green Valley) or anything, except enjoying each other's company.
It was also one of the only times on the calendar when the MacIntyres and the Boones frequented the same party. Oh, they got along fine because my parents had been together long enough now. While they were still alive, I knew my Mawmaw Boone and my Grandma MacIntyre used to share a weekly cup of coffee at Daisy’s, but the New Year's Day party was a different sort of gathering.
Normally, it was a day for me to shine. I took the hostess mantle easily because hosting a large group like this was the quickest way to get my momma to perch herself on the lake with a cooler and a fishing rod.
My cousin Maya Boone poked her head around the corner into the kitchen. "Is the food ready yet, Magnolia?"
I herded her out of the kitchen. "The more you hassle me about it, the longer it'll take. Go bug your brothers."
"But they're all watching football, and it's so boring."
Aunt Julianne, Daddy’s sister, snuck Maya a deviled egg off to the side. "You could always go outside and help your aunt bait some hooks. Maybe catch us our dinner."
Maya's face twisted up in a disgusted grimace, but she knew better than to verbalize how horrified she was by that idea. Wisely, she ate the egg instead. "Thank you, Miss Julianne," she said.
"Welcome, honey." Aunt Julianne smiled at her, then pinned me with her knowing gaze. "Out with it. Don't think you can pout around this kitchen and no one will notice."
With clenched teeth, I set myself to mixing up the dip just a bit more vigorously. "I'm not pouting."
"Please. You're about to start a fresh set of wrinkles on your forehead, and if you do that, then Lord help you find a new man, Magnolia."
The eye roll was internal, but when that gaze narrowed at me, she must have sensed it.
"If a man is deterred by some forehead wrinkles, then he's probably not worth tying myself to anyway."
She harrumphed. "Fine. But you're only twenty-six, honey, avoid speeding the process along, if you can." Then she glanced outside, through the wall of windows, where her brother’s wife sat at the edge of the dock with two poles in the water. "Though, if you age anything like your momma, you'll be just fine, I suppose."
That made me smile. "True. The wrinkles all come from the white side of my family."
She clucked her tongue disapprovingly, but I caught a hint of a smile.
Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, I slipped her a taste of the dip. "More dill?"
At her nod, I shook the spice jar over the bowl and continued mixing.
"Is that brother of mine causing you more grief, honey?" Aunt Julianne asked quietly. She always referred to Daddy that way. That brother of mine.
I glanced into the living room, packed with my people, and shook my head. "No, he's ... he's been doing okay, actually."
"Miracles never cease."
"Aunt Julianne," I chided. "Are you so ungracious toward your own brother?"
She gave me a knowing look over the rim of her glasses. "I'm old, Magnolia. You don't earn the label of old lady without gaining the right to call a jackass a jackass, especially if you’re related to him."
When I handed her another spoonful of dip, she nodded in approval. I slid the heavy crystal bowl toward the rest of the food lining the long kitchen island.
"The holidays were fine," I told her. "They had their first big Chamber event since I left, and I think he realized that everything would be okay without me."
"And that's why you're pouting?"
Shaking my head, I said, "I don't miss my job. At all."
I could feel those wrinkles she talked about appearing on my forehead. I'd felt off since Christmas, and I couldn't quite place why.
"Jackass or not, I love my brother," she said, putting the finishing flourish of paprika on the deviled eggs, "but it was far past time for you to spread your wings, honey. I'm glad you're not thinking about going back."
"Definitely not."
The strength of my reaction had her silvery-white eyebrows lifting on that heavily wrinkled brow. "Goodness, who're you trying to convince?"
My face flushed warm, and I turned to the fridge to make sure enough ice was in the bucket for drinks. "No one. I just ... I love what I'm doing now. It's a good place to work."
She chuckled. "You and hiking and outdoor anything. Boggles the mind, but I'm happy to hear it."
"I don't have to hike or do outdoor anything," I pointed out.
Aunt Julianne eyed my pink cashmere sweater. "Good thing."
Junior, Aunt Julianne’s oldest son, swooped in and stole the basket filled with chips before I could stop him. "Thank you, Magnolia," he yelled over his shoulder. "Come on, stop 'em on this down, boys." That was directed at whatever bowl game was happening on the television.
"That boy you working for—the Buchanan—he good people?"
Her gaze was shrewd when she asked it, and I couldn't blame her. Since the day I got my first job, I'd always been employed by someone I was related to.
The thought of Grady brought a smile to my face and an uncomfortable pang in my chest. Why did I feel like this? Like something was missing. I'd hardly seen him the past couple of weeks, but I'd also been using my current tube of mascara for longer than I'd known Grady, so it was ridiculous to presume that what I might be missing was him.
"Very good people," I assured her. "And he's not a boy. He's my age."
"Good-looking?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"No harm in asking. Calm down."
Was Grady good-looking?
Only if you found tall, strong men with chiseled features, bright eyes, and glorious smiles attractive. Only if you found kindness and respect and loyalty and a good sense of humor attractive.
She hummed. "Taking you a long time to answer, honey."
"I'm thinking about what food I'm missing." Lying to your aunt was a sin, to be sure, but I didn't particularly want to answer her question.
"So, he's good-looking."
"Who's good-looking?" my dad asked. He kissed his sister on the cheek, then walked around the island and grabbed a beer out of the fridge.
I smiled at Aunt Julianne. It was the kind of smile in the South that was akin to hollering at the top of your lungs at a wayward child.
You keep your mouth shut and move along.
That kind.
She smiled right back.
I will do whatever I want, young lady.
I narrowed my eyes at her in warning.
She narrowed hers right back.
I sighed because I'd lost.
"Grady Buchanan," Aunt Julianne answered smoothly.
Daddy froze with the beer halfway to his mouth. "Why are we talking about that?"
"We weren't. Aunt Julianne was just asking if he was or wasn't, and I didn't answer." I handed Daddy a plate, hoping the promise of food would distract him.
For a moment, I thought it did. He set the beer down on the counter and slowly filled a plate. Aunt Julianne and I watched him fill it with all of Momma's favorite things.
"Be right back." He walked out the slider doors, through the sloping yard toward the lake, down the long, wooden dock, where he set the plate down next to her and whispered something in her ear. She looked up at him, and they traded a soft, quick kiss.
I had to look away.
The feeling I'd told Grady about on our drive home from Nashville, that embarrassment, it was lessening. Bit by bit and day by day, it was fading.
Daddy came back in the house, and without a word, he started filling a plate for himself. "T
hat boy is doing better than I thought he would," he said casually. "Heard he's gonna be busy come spring."
"That boy has a name."
He raised an eyebrow but didn't look at me.
"Doesn't seem like you've been at the office much, though. Tucker still causing you problems? Because I can—"
"You can nothing," I interrupted. "I'm working from home because there's not much need for me in the office right now. Grady was fine with it when I asked. But as the weather warms up, I'll be back in there." Pride swelled in my chest. "He's been working hard, and it shows."
"And he's good-looking," Aunt Julianne pointed out.
Our gazes clashed, and she smiled again. What are you going to do about it? He's my brother, and I'll bait him if I want to.
This. This was why I should've stayed home. Because my family was certifiably insane.
"Why do we keep talking about his looks?" Daddy barked. "I didn't even think you knew him, Julianne."
"I don't." She peered down her nose at me. "But my very beautiful, very single niece might."
Daddy set his plate down, folded his arms, and glared at his older sister. "Why are you like this?"
"I don't know what you mean," she said innocently.
"Magnolia doesn't care what he looks like because he's her boss. She's his employee, and if he tries anything with her, that's a gross misuse of his power."
I gave him a long, level look, because honestly, the hypocrisy of those words coming out of his mouth was almost too much to handle.
My aunt rolled her eyes.
Daddy's face flushed pink because I'd learned the skill of containing an eye roll from her, and if she let one fly, it was pretty damn bad.
"Magnolia is standing right here," I reminded them both.
A celebratory roar came from the family room, saving us from that conversation going any further. Daddy grabbed his plate to go see what had happened, and Aunt Julianne smiled beatifically at me.
I clucked my tongue. She laughed.
"I'll get you a plate," I told her.
"You're a good girl, Magnolia."
A good girl who should've stayed home. It was amazing how people's attention toward you changed when you'd gone your whole span of early adulthood as a part of a couple. Like her sole purpose was to remind me that any eligible man was, well, eligible.
Steal My Magnolia (Love at First Sight Book 3) Page 14