Page 45 of Magnolia Summer

“All right, then. You don’t owe me an explanation, of course, but I do wish you would tell me if I did something wrong.”

Her heart fluttered. Now what could she say? She was as much in danger as ever. “Well, I . . . a lady doesn’t have to have a reason. And no, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Uh-oh. From the look on his face, she was not conveying the proper sternness.

“Is it because you don’t like me?” A bit of a smile played around the corners of his lips.

And what perfect lips they were, too.

“I don’t have to answer that.” She looked past his shoulder again. “I don’t dislike you.”

“Then you do like me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then you’re afraid I’ll keep you from going back to Nashville.”

“Well . . . yes.” Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to break free from the hold of his intense blue eyes. Her gaze slipped down, but she encountered his broad chest, which only made her imagine again how it would feel to press her cheek against it and hear his heart beating.

“Celia, I—”

His hand was coming toward her face. She took a step back. When she did, her foot went off the edge of the porch.

“Oh!” Celia flailed her arms. She was falling! He grabbed her, but it was too late. They both fell the three feet off the porch into the flower bed below.

Chapter 13

She was lying on top of him, he on his back. Somehow he had managed to place his body between hers and the ground as he took the brunt of the fall.

Celia scrambled off of him and pushed herself up, propping on her elbow. A daisy lay across his chest, its long stem crumpled and its white petals askew.

“Are you all right?” Truett asked, also pushing himself up to look into her face.

“Yes. Are you hurt? I’m so sorry.” When he didn’t say anything, she asked again, “Are you hurt?”

He moved slowly. “I don’t think so.”

She managed to get to her feet in the middle of the crushed patch of daisies and bachelor buttons. She bent and tugged on his upper arm, the muscles as hard as rock

Once he was standing, he straightened his back. He carefully flexed his left shoulder, the one he had fallen on, wincing as he did so.

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

He nodded.

“Where does it hurt?”

Truett frowned and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he pointed to the left side of his chest.

His heart.

“Oh, for pity’s sake. You’re just teasing me, Truett Beverly.” Celia slapped lightly at his arm.

A lock of brown hair had fallen over his forehead and hung down over one eyebrow. She considered reaching up and brushing it back.

He was staring at her again too. “Now, don’t fall backward this time. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid.”