Magnolia Quotes

“I'll tell you about Ryder. He's the star quarter back of our Division 1A state championship football team. Top student in our class, he doesn't even have to work for it. He plays the piano like some kind of freaking prodigy, and I wouldn't be surprised if he composed sonatas or something in his spare time.

Oh, and did I mention that he's gorgeous? Of course he is. Six foot four, two hundred ten pounds of swoon-worthy good looks. Spiky dark hair, chocolate brown eyes, and full-on dimples.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“You can take the girl out of Mississippi but you can't take the Mississippi out of the girl.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“[The skeet tournament] It's a competition that I've entered – and won – every year since I was thirteen.
And here's the thing – it really pisses them off. All these hunting boys and their daddies show up decked out in camo gear, determined to beat the girl who has the audacity to challenge their masculinity.
And, okay, I'll admit it … I like to needle 'em just a bit. I purposely wear the girliest outfit possible – little flowery sundresses with cowboy boots, most years. Drives 'em nuts. If they're going to be beaten by a girl, they'd rather it be some tomboy wearing overalls and a flannel shirt, you know? Stupid sexist pigs.---(Jenna Cafferty)”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“I let the curtains fall back against the glass, effectively blocking the view of my nemesis standing there beneath the twinkle lights, looking way too hot in his charcoal-colored suit.

It would be so much easier to hate him if he didn't look so good. And I want to hate him; I really do.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“You’re just pushing your food around, aren’t you? You’ve barely taken two bites. I thought you loved Lou’s Cornish hens.”
“I do. I’m sorry. 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.
Laura Grace gives us both a pointed look. “You two better learn to get along, you hear? You’re going to be spending a lot of time together for the next four years.”
Four years. Just the two of us--away from our meddling mamas. I have to bite my lip to force back the smile that’s threatening to give us away.
“She’s right,” Mama says, nodding. “The only way I’m allowing Jemma to go to NYU is if she promises not to go off campus without Ryder to escort her.”
Escort me? What is it, the 1950s or something? Besides, I don’t think she realizes that NYU isn’t a traditional campus. There’s no fences or gates or anything like that. I guess she’ll find out when she comes to visit over Thanksgiving, but by then it’ll be too late. That’s what she gets for not looking over the application materials I gave her.
“Fine,” I say, trying to sound slightly annoyed. “I promise.”
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.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“As I follow them up, my phone buzzes. I pause, my heart racing with anticipation. I know it’s from Ryder even before I see his name on the screen, followed by three lines of text.
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.
Romeo and Juliet? I type back, smiling giddily. I should know this--we studied the play in ninth grade.
Yeah. It’s Juliet’s line, but it works for me.
I love you, Ryder Marsden.
Not half as much as I love you, Jemma Cafferty.
Sighing dreamily, I shove the phone back in my jacket pocket and hurry off to find my friends.
Do I ever have a tale to tell them.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“I didn’t want you to apply just because I’m going to be in New York. Or hell, even worse, not apply because I’m going to be there. I was going to tell you in person. And then the scout shows up at the game tonight, and what was I supposed to do? My mom is freaking out; you’re freaking out.” He throws his hands in the air in frustration. “I’ve totally fucked this up.”
It hits me then, the truth of the situation. He made his decision about Columbia on his own, and he wanted me to be able to do the same. Of course.
Hell, if it hadn’t been for the storm bringing us together like it did, I probably would have turned down NYU rather than risk going off to New York with him, and that’s the truth.
I drop my gaze to the ground and take a deep breath, cursing myself for being such an idiot.
“No, you haven’t,” I say at last, raising my eyes to meet his confused ones.
“Haven’t what?”
“Fucked it up.” I take a tentative step toward him. “I get it now. God, Ryder. Why do you have to be so perfect?”
“Perfect? I’ve been in love with you for so long now, and I’ve never managed to get it right, not once.”
I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning. “News flash--I think you’ve finally got it this time.”
His smile makes my heart leap. “Do you have any idea what was going through my head when you first told me about NYU? I couldn’t believe it. It was like…like a gift fell right into my lap. Like winning the lottery. All this time I thought going off to New York would mean leaving you behind. And now--”
“Now we both better get in,” I finish for him, though it probably wasn’t what he was going to say. I mean, he’s a shoo-in for Columbia. Perfect grades, high SATs, and a superstar quarterback the likes of which the Ivy League rarely sees. He’s every college admissions director’s dream. But me? If I get into NYU, it’ll be by the skin of my teeth. Because they want geographic diversity or something lame like that. I’m nothing special.
“Where will you go if you don’t get into NYU?” he asks.
“Where else?” I say. “Ole Miss, with Lucy and Morgan.”
“Then Ole Miss is my backup too. Here’s the thing, Jem. I’m going wherever you’re going--whether it’s New York or Oxford. I’m not missing my chance this time.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“We were able to successfully downplay the whole going-to-the-dance-together thing to our parents. I guess our history of acting like we despise each other worked in our favor, because they actually believed that I changed my mind at the last minute and called Ryder to take me--just because he lives down the street. And then, since I didn’t have an escort, Ryder offered to stand in.
Mama saw this as a perfect opportunity to remind me what a gentleman Ryder is--how selfless and generous and downright perfect he is. Only, this time, I agreed wither. Secretly, of course.
I have no idea how Ryder and I are going to manage this from here on out. We didn’t talk about it last night. We didn’t really talk, period. We danced. We laughed. We had fun with our friends.
We saved the kissing for later, when Ryder brought me home. He parked the Audi at the end of our road, far away from prying eyes. We leaned against the car under the bright moonlight and kissed until we were breathless, until my lips were swollen and my cheeks were flushed and I thought I was going to melt into a puddle of goo from the sheer rightness of it all.
And then we’d driven up to the house and he’d walked me to the front door. We were careful then, keeping our distance. I figured my mom had her nose pressed to the glass, waiting for us. She probably did, considering how quickly she’d burst into the living room when I walked in the front door, firing a barrage of questions at me before I’d even made it out of the mudroom.
And now I’m just lying in bed, purportedly napping since I’d gotten up early to go to church, but really texting with Ryder.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“Hey!” a voice calls out behind us, and we turn to find Ryder standing beside the row of orange lockers outside Mr. Jepsen’s classroom. I have no idea why he’s out of class early, and I don’t care. “I just heard the announcement--congrats.”
“Thanks,” Morgan chirps. “This is epic, right? Both of us.”
Ryder nods, his gaze shifting from Morgan to me.
I duck my head, averting my eyes. This is worse than when I hated him, I realize. At least then, it wasn’t awkward. I could just ignore him and go about my business. Now I feel all queasy and mad and breathless and guilty. I need to get away from him. Fast.
Mercifully, Morgan glances down at her watch. “We gotta get going. There’s a meeting in the media center.”
“Right,” Ryder says. “But, uh…Jemma, could I talk to you for a second after school today? Before practice, maybe?”
My gaze snaps up to meet his. “I…um, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’ll be quick,” he says. “Actually, maybe I’ll come over to your house after dinner. That way I can say hi to Nan.”
“She’s…really not up to visitors.”
“Really?” He fixes me with a stare, one brow raised in disbelief. “’Cause your mom said just the opposite.”
Crap. Now what? I’m out of excuses. Besides, the last thing I want to do is pique Morgan’s curiosity. “Oh, fine. Whatever.”
“Great. See you then.” He turns and heads back into the classroom without a backward glance.
I have no clue what he wants to talk about. Things are already uncomfortable enough between us as it is. No use making it worse by discussing things that don’t need to be discussed. We made out, even though I hadn’t bothered to break up with Patrick first. It was a mistake--a big mistake. End of story.
The memory of that night hits me full force--his shirt was off; mine was close to it. My cheeks flare with sudden heat as I recall the feel of his fingertips skimming up my sides, moving beneath my bra as he kissed me like no one’s kissed me before. Ho-ly crap.
Stop.
“What was that about?” Morgan asks me as we continue on our way. “He was acting kinda weird, wasn’t he?”
“I didn’t notice,” I say with a shrug, going for nonchalance. “Anyway, we should hurry. We’re probably late already.”
“Maybe he wants you to ask him to escort you,” she teases, hurrying her step.
I match my pace to hers, needing to take two steps for every one of hers. “Yeah, right,” I say breathlessly.
“Hey, you never know.” She looks at me and winks. “Weirder things have happened.”
Oh, man. She has no idea.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“I grab one of the lanterns we’ve left in the mudroom and head toward my parents’ room, expecting Ryder to follow.
But he pauses at the bottom of the stairs. “I guess I should…you know. The guestroom. Should be safe upstairs now.”
I just stare at him, trying to decide if he’s serious. But then he reaches for the banister, and I realize he is. “You don’t have to,” I say, my cheeks flushing hotly. “I mean…I’m fine with you down here. With me.”
I can’t believe I just said that. But, jeez, everything’s so awkward now.
“You sure?” he asks, taking a step toward me.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah, I’m…you know, getting used to having you around. Anyway,” I say breezily, “we might get some more severe stuff tonight. Probably shouldn’t take any chances.”
Oh my God, I’m practically begging him to stay with me. What is wrong with me?
“You’re probably right,” Ryder says, relenting.
I try to think of something clever to say, but come up blank. So I turn and stalk off to my parents’ room instead.
Ryder finds me in the bathroom, brushing my teeth with bottled water. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, watching me. Our gazes meet in the mirror--which, of course, makes gooseflesh rise on my skin. I spit in the sink and take a swig of water to rinse.
“Jem?”
I turn, the marble countertop digging into my back. He moves toward me, closing the distance between us. I sway slightly on my feet as he reaches for me, his dark eyes filled with heat. His gaze sweeps across my face, warming my skin, making my breath catch in my throat.
Oh man.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“Jemma?” Ryder murmurs, his mouth hot against my skin. “Is this okay?”
I tilt my head back against the wall, catching my breath. “Yeah,” I say, panting. “It’s definitely okay. Okay?”
His forehead is resting on my shoulder now, his hands skimming my hips. “You sure? I don’t want to…I mean, I know things are kinda weird right now, but--”
“Just kiss me, Ryder.”
So he does.
Does he ever.
And, of course, that’s when the dang-blasted tornado siren decides to go off again.
Seriously?
Ryder steps back from me, looking a little disoriented. It takes us both a few seconds to get our bearings. “Storage room,” he says. “I’ll get the cats; you get the dogs?”
I just nod, tugging my tank top back into place. Somehow it’d gotten pushed up, bunched around my bra. And Ryder…At some point he must have taken off his T-shirt, because he’s shirtless now, his jeans riding low on his hips.
Focus, Jemma. The dogs. I’ve got to get the dogs.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“Look, I’m sorry, Jemma. It took me forever to get there, what with all the flooding and everything. And then I was trying to clean stuff up and…well, I guess the time just got away from me.”
I try to pull away, but he tightens his grip. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says.
“Well, you did scare me.” I manage to pull one hand loose, and I use it to whack him in the chest. “Idiot!”
“I’m fine, okay? I’m here.”
“I wish you weren’t!” I yell, fired up now. “I wish you were lying in a ditch somewhere!” I stumble backward, my heel catching on the porch’s floorboards.
“You don’t mean that,” Ryder says, sounding hurt.
He’s right; I don’t. But I don’t care if I hurt his feelings. I’m too angry to care. Angry and relieved and pissed off and…and, God, I’m so glad he’s okay. I thump his chest one more time in frustration, and then somehow my lips are on his--hungry and demanding and punishing all at once.
I hear him gasp in surprise. His mouth is hot, feverish even, as he kisses me back. The ground seems to tilt beneath my feet. I stagger back toward the door, dragging him with me without breaking the kiss. Ryder’s tongue slips between my lips, skimming over my teeth before plunging inside. And…
Oh. My. God. No one’s ever kissed me like this. No one. His hands and his tongue and his scent and his body are pressed against mine…It’s making me light-headed, dizzy. Electricity seems to skitter across my skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake. I cling to him, grabbing fistfuls of his T-shirt as he kisses me harder, deeper. I was meant to do this, I realize. I was made to kiss Ryder Marsden. Everything about it is right, like the last piece of a puzzle falling into place.
Somehow, we manage to open the front door and stumble blindly inside, past the mudroom, where we shed our boots and jackets. We pause right there in the front hall, our hands seemingly everywhere at once. I tug at his T-shirt, wanting it off, wanting to feel his skin against my fingertips. His hands skim up my sides beneath my tank top, to the edges of my bra. Shivers rack my entire body, making my knees go weak. Thank God for the wall behind me, because that’s pretty much all that’s holding me up right now.
With a groan, he abandons my mouth to trail his lips down my neck, to my shoulders, across my collarbone to the hollow between my breasts. I tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, clutching him to me--thinking that I should make him stop, terrified that he will.
This is insane. I’m insane.
But you know what? That’s just fine with me. Because right now, “sane” seems way overrated.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“So,” Ben says, tapping his fingers against his thighs, “Ryder’s going to watch out for you during the storm, I guess. Keep an eye on your place and everything?”
“I promised her dad I would,” Ryder says.
Because God knows that’s the only reason he’d do something nice for me. I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Well, it’s not like I’m right down the road like Ryder is, but if you need anything, just let me know, okay? I don’t mind coming out there.”
“Thanks, Ben,” I say, patting his shoulder. “That’s sweet.”
And then Ryder leans over and turns on the radio, blasting a country music station loud enough to make conversation impossible.
I guess that means we’re done talking, which is fine by me.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“He looks at me sharply. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
He’s lucky I don’t slap him. “I was sitting upstairs in my room, minding my own business, when he showed up at the door. What do you think? Asshat,” I add under my breath.
His brow furrows. “What was that?”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“So, are you going to tell me what I did to piss you off that year? Because I’m coming up totally blank.”
I turn on him. “Seriously? You’re coming up blank?”
“Why don’t you help me out here?”
I just stare at him uncomprehendingly.
“C’mon, Jemma,” he taunts. “Use your words.”
I rise, my hands curled into fists by my sides. “Oh, I’ll use my words all right, douchebucket. Remember the eighth-grade dance? Is that ringing any bells for you?”
He scratches his head, looking thoughtful for a moment. And then…“You mean the graduation dance? If I remember correctly, you didn’t even show up.”
“Is that what you think? That I didn’t show up?” I almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it--Ryder trying to act like the injured party, as if I’d stood him up.
“You got a better explanation?” he asks.
“I shouldn’t have to explain it to you. Jerk,” I add under my breath. And then, “I’m going for a walk.”
He rises, towering over me now. “So you’re just going to storm off? Really, Jem?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding furiously. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. How clever of you to figure it out.”
I can feel Ryder’s eyes boring a hole in my back as I flounce down the stairs and hurry down the drive with as much dignity as I can muster.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“Here you go,” Ryder says, startling me. He holds out a sweating bottle of water, and I take it gratefully, pressing it against my neck.
“Thanks.” I glance away, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave me in peace. His presence makes me self-conscious now, but it wasn’t always like this. As I look out at Magnolia Landing’s grounds, I can’t help but remember hot summer days when Ryder and I ran through sprinklers and ate Popsicles out on the lawn, when we rode our bikes up and down the long drive, when we built a tree fort in the largest of the oaks behind the house.
I wouldn’t say we’d been friends when we were kids--not exactly. We had been more like siblings. We played; we fought. Mostly, we didn’t think too much about our relationship--we didn’t try to define it. And then adolescence hit. Just like that, everything was awkward and uncomfortable between us. By the time middle school began, I was all too aware that he wasn’t my brother, or even my cousin.
“Mind if I sit?” Ryder asks.
I shrug. “It’s your house.” I keep my gaze trained straight ahead, refusing to look in his direction as he lowers himself into the chair beside me.
After a minute or two of silence but for the creaking rockers, he sighs loudly. “Can we call a truce now?”
“You’re the one who started it,” I snap. “Last night, I mean.”
“Look, I’ve been thinking about what you said. You know, about eighth grade--”
“Do we have to talk about this?”
“Because we didn’t really hang out in middle school, except for family stuff,” he continues, ignoring my protest. “Until the end of eighth grade, maybe. Right around graduation.”
My entire body goes rigid, my face flushing hotly with the memory.
It had all started during Christmas break that year. We’d gone to the beach with the Marsdens. I can’t really explain it, but there’d been a new awareness between us that week--exchanged glances and lingering looks, an electrical current connecting us in some way. The two of us sort of tiptoed around each other, afraid to get too close, but also afraid to lose that hint of…something. And then Ryder asked me to go with him to the graduation dance. There was no way we were telling our parents.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“Can you just imagine the two of them next year at the Phi Delta Carnation Ball?” Laura Grace asks, clapping her hands together.
Daddy looks confused. “The two of who?”
“Why, Ryder and Jemma, of course.” Mama pats him on the hand. “You remember the Carnation Ball--it’s the first Phi Delta party of the year. They have to go together, right, Laura Grace?”
She nods. “We’ve been waiting all our lives for this.”
Mama finally glances my way and sees my scowl. “Aw, honey. We’re just teasing, that’s all.”
This sort of teasing has been going on my entire life--second verse, same as the first. It’s gotten real old, real fast.
“May I be excused?” I ask, pushing back from the table.
“You go on and finish your dinner,” Laura Grace says, entirely unperturbed. “We’ll stop teasing. I promise.”
“It’s okay. I’m done. It was delicious, thanks. I just need to get some air, that’s all. I’m getting a bit of a headache.”
Laura Grace nods. “It’s this heat--way too hot for September.” She waves a hand in my direction. “Go on, then. Ryder, why don’t you go get Jemma some aspirin or something.”
I glance over at Ryder, and our eyes meet. I shake my head, hoping he gets the message. “No, it’s fine. I’m…uh…I’ve got some in my purse.”
“Go with her, son,” Mr. Marsden prods. “Be a gentleman, and get her a bottle of water to take outside with her.”
Ugh. I give up. My escape plot is now ruined.
Wordlessly, Ryder rises from the table and stalks out of the dining room. I follow behind, my sandals slapping noisily against the hardwood floor.
“Do you want water or not?” he asks me as soon as the door swings shut behind us.
“Sure. Fine. Whatever.”
He turns to face me. “It is pretty hot out there.”
“I near about melted on the drive over.”
His lips twitch with the hint of a smile. “Your dad refused to turn on the AC, huh?”
I nod as I follow him out into the cavernous marble-tiled foyer. “You know his theory--‘no point when you’re just going down the road.’ Must’ve been a thousand degrees in the car.”
He tips his head toward the front door. “You wait out on the porch--I’ll bring you a bottle of water.”
“Thanks.” I watch him go, wondering if we’re going to pretend like last night’s fight didn’t happen. I hope that’s the case, because I really don’t feel like rehashing it.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“Oh, wait, I meant to ask . . . What were you and Patrick Hughes talking about last night?”
“Oh. That. Patrick was ‘jokingly’”—he makes air quotes around the word—“asking for your hand in marriage. I ‘jokingly’”—those air quotes again—“told him that he better get his act together or stay the hell away from my daughter.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“We were born exactly six weeks apart, a perfect match, age-wise. You can imagine what it’s been like since our mothers first plopped us into a crib together, rubbing their hands in conspiratorial glee as they planned our wedding. Playdates followed where the adults smiled and cooed as they watched us dig in the sandbox, where Ryder tugging on my pigtails was a sure sign of his adoration, where me throwing sand in his face only proved my devotion.
Star-crossed love? Ha! Not even close. Mostly, I try to avoid him whenever possible.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“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

“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

“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

“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?”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“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.
“Take her up there, then, before she catches cold. Go. Scoot.” Laura Grace waves her hands in our direction.
We rise from the table in unison, both of us trying to look as unhappy about it as possible. Silently, I follow him out. As soon as the door swings shut behind us, he reaches for my hand and pulls me close.
“Shh, listen,” I say, cocking my head toward the door.
“I still can’t believe it,” comes Laura Grace’s muffled voice. “The both of them, going off to school together, just like we always hoped they would. They’ll find their way into each other’s hearts eventually, just you wait and see.”
I hear my mom’s tinkling laughter. “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 up at 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

“What do you think, Jemma”
It takes a second to realize that she’s talking to me. I’m too focused on the fact that Ryder’s sitting beside me--just inches away--holding my hand beneath the table. “What?” I ask, glancing around at the expected faces. “Oh, the train. Yeah, maybe.”
“They should go up a week early,” Laura Grace declares. “Take some time to see the city. Maybe catch a couple of Broadway shows or ball games or something. We could go with them!”
“No,” Ryder says, a little too loudly. “I just meant…we should probably do it on our own, me and Jemma. Learn our way around and all that. Y’all can come up for Thanksgiving break, once we get settled and everything.”
Laura Grace nods. “That’s a great idea. We could get rooms at the Plaza, watch the Macy’s Parade. And the two of you can show us around.”
Ryder nods. “Exactly.”
Beneath the table, I give his hand a squeeze.
Laura Grace eyes my plate suspiciously. “You’re just pushing your food around, aren’t you? You’ve barely taken two bites. I thought you loved Lou’s Cornish hens.”
“I do. I’m sorry. 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

“I’ve got an idea,” he says. “Let’s pretend we’ve got to do a school project together. You know, say that we’ve been paired up against our will. We can make a big fuss about it--complain about having to spend so much time together.”
“While we secretly do lots of naughty things?” I offer.
He nods. “Exactly.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“So…we keep it a secret?”
“Not exactly. I’ve got to tell Lucy and Morgan. Just…not our parents, okay? Besides, think how fun it will be, sneaking around.”
His eyes light with mischief. “Good point.”
“Don’t go getting any naughty ideas,” I tease. “C’mon, walk me to my car.”
He takes my hand and falls into step beside me, glancing down at me with a wicked grin.
“What?” I ask.
“Hey, you’re the one who brought up ‘naughty,’ not me.”
I poke him playfully in the ribs.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“I’ve gotta go,” I say, scowling at my phone.
“Now?” Ryder asks, tipping my chin up with one hand so that our eyes meet.
“Unfortunately. It’s my mom. Lucy and Morgan are covering for me, but I’ve got to get back. I’m supposed to be at the drugstore.”
“What are we going to tell them? Our moms, I mean?”
I shake my head. “We can’t tell them anything. At least, not yet. Can you imagine the pressure they’d put on us if they knew? I mean, they already drive us nuts and they think we hate each other.”
“You’re right. So…we keep it a secret?”
“Not exactly. I’ve got to tell Lucy and Morgan. Just…not our parents, okay? Besides, think how fun it will be, sneaking around.”
His eyes light with mischief. “Good point.”
“Don’t go getting any naughty ideas,” I tease. “C’mon, walk me to my car.”
He takes my hand and falls into step beside me, glancing down at me with a wicked grin.
“What?” I ask.
“Hey, you’re the one who brought up ‘naughty,’ not me.”
I poke him playfully in the ribs.
“I’ve got an idea,” he says. “Let’s pretend we’ve got to do a school project together. You know, say that we’ve been paired up against our will. We can make a big fuss about it--complain about having to spend so much time together.”
“While we secretly do lots of naughty things?” I offer.
He nods. “Exactly.”
I shiver, imagining the possibilities. Suddenly, I’m looking forward to those Sunday dinners at Magnolia Landing. And to Christmas and the inevitable Cafferty-Marsden winter vacation. In fact, the rest of the school year looms ahead like a lengthy stretch of opportunities, no longer filled with uncertainty and doubt, but with the knowledge that I’m on the right path now…the perfect path.
And like Nan suggested, I’m going to grab it. Embrace it. Hold on to it tightly--just like I’m holding on to this boy beside me.
We reach my car way too quickly. I’m not ready to go, to leave him, to begin this necessary charade. I lean against my car’s door with a sigh, drawing Ryder toward me. His entire body is pressed against mine, firing every cell inside me at once. My knees go weak as he kisses me softly, his lips lingering on mine, despite the urgency.
“Good night,” I whisper.
“Good night,” he whispers back, his breath warm against my cheek.
Oh man. It just about kills me to slip inside the car and turn the key in the ignition. I’m grinning to myself as I drive away, watching as Ryder becomes a speck in my rearview mirror before melting into the night.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“Tell me again why we’ve hated each other all these years?”
“Because we’re both stubborn as mules?” he offers.
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’d say that about covers it.”
“I love you, Jemma. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to feel the same. I’ll wait forever if I have to.”
I suck in a breath. He doesn’t know. How would he? He’s said it to me, but I’ve never once said it back. “Trust me, you had me at ‘prettiest girl in all of Magnolia Branch,’ and then you sealed the deal with that whole ‘best shot’ thing.”
“Wait…Are you saying…I mean--”
“Shhh.” I put my finger against his lips. “Though you’re really cute when you’re stuttering like that.”
“Hey, I don’t stutter.”
“Neither do I. I love you, Ryder Marsden. See?” I rise up on tiptoe and press my lips against his.
His arms encircle my waist, drawing me closer, till there’s no space whatsoever between our bodies, till I can’t tell where he ends and I begin. His mouth moves against mine, and he kisses me hungrily. Thoroughly. Expertly. And so very hotly.
This kiss is somehow different from the ones that have come before it. It’s a promise that he is mine, that I am his. It’s an acceptance of our fate. It’s the ultimate acknowledgement of something that’s been there all along, just waiting for us to discover it. To enjoy it. To celebrate it.
So we do.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia

“Tell me again why we’ve hated each other all these years?”
“Because we’re both stubborn as mules?” he offers.
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’d say that about covers it.”
― Kristi Cook, Magnolia