Page 83 of Magnolia Summer

“Can we talk about this later?” He looked around just to make sure no one had come inside to check on them.

Celia tried to sit up. Truett helped her, then sat on the bench beside her, his arm around her, letting her lean against his side. She laid her head on his shoulder.

This was quite pleasant. He sat staring forward. Finally, Truett shook his head, unable to suppress a grin. “You sure are a high-strung little lady.”

“I never was before I met you. You make me crazy.”

“Crazy in a good way?”

“Definitelynotin a good way.” Her voice sounded petulant. “Oh, Truett, how could you have said those things?”

“I had to, Celia. The opportunity presented itself and I felt God nudging me to do it.” He didn’t try to look into her face, and she didn’t try to lift her head off his shoulder.

“And now Suggs will kill you,” she whispered.

“No, he won’t. At least, not in front of anyone. He only kills people he can get away with killing. I have a family who would never let him get away with killing me.”

“He’ll kill you if he sees you dressed in a black hood and cape, and you know it. He’ll shoot you dead.”

“Sh. God will take care of me. And besides, I’ve taken some action that should help us get rid of our corrupt sheriff for good.”

“You have?”

“Yes, I have. I wrote Judge William Richardson, the county probate judge in Huntsville.”

“You did? So did I.”

“You did?”

“Almira and I wrote the letter to tell the judge what he’s been doing.”

“You’ll sure make a mighty fine wife with such a good head on your shoulders.”

“I thought you said I was high-strung. High-strung isn’t good. And don’t say that word.”

“What word? I like high-strung. At least, I like you, high-strung or not.” He squeezed her shoulder.

She snuggled a little closer. “The ‘w’ word. You do?”

Truett leaned his head down until his cheek was touching her dark hair. The smell of flowers filled him with images of her. Her hair was pulled straight back from her face into a severe bun. How he wished he could pull out the pins and see it fall around her shoulders. He was sure it would be soft and silky. He took a deep breath and let it out.

“I want to kiss you.” His voice sounded as tight as he felt. He would have kissed her, too, but she kept her face turned away from him.

She let out a little huffy breath. “I’m mad at you. Besides, we can’t kiss in church. It’s shameful to even think about such a thing.” But he heard the breathlessness of her voice. She wanted to kiss him just as much as he wanted to kiss her.

“You will kiss me in church,” he drawled slowly. “You will kiss me . . . in this church, or another church of your choice . . . right after you say ‘I do.’”

“Of all the arrogant things . . .” She sounded mad, but she didn’t take her head off his shoulder. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because you love me, Celia.”

Her body stiffened.

“You love me, and you care what happens to me.”

She stood up, wobbling as she tried to take a step. Truett grabbed her arm to steady her.

“I’m all right. I need to go.”