The Magnolia Affair Read online

  “How do you know, Audrey? We take too many things for granted sometimes. This isn’t a movie. And that was The Notebook.”

  I pivoted, making little ruts in the flowerbed with my sneakers. “Spence, cut it out. You’re sounding morbid.”

  “Do we even know what happened to her husband?”

  I folded my gloves and tossed them in the bucket with the clippers. “He died before we moved in. I have no idea. I think someone said heart attack.” I stopped to think for a minute. Had anyone actually told me how Mr. Ellerby died, or was I guessing?

  The room grew quiet and I noticed all heads had turned.

  “Excuse me, ladies. Am I in the right place? Tina Lyons?”

  Tina knocked over her wineglass. “Good lord, I’m a klutz.” She hopped from her seat. “I’m sorry. I’m Tina. Are you looking for someone?” Her head pivoted around the circle like a water sprinkler.

  I stood. “Tina, I’m sorry. I forgot to mention I invited my new neighbor to book club. I meant to say something.” I walked toward Paxton. “This is Paxton Tanner. He just moved in next door to us.”

  He held up a copy of The Goldfinch. “Hope it’s ok if I join your discussion tonight. I came armed with the book. Took me a little while to find it. I’m still unpacking the house.”

  The hushed murmurs circled the room. I couldn’t hear a single comment. They were all at once.

  Tina’s hand rested on his arm. “Of course. You will be the first man we’ve ever had at book club. Are you subbing for you wife, Mr. Tanner? We would love to meet her too. Maybe she can make the next one.”

  I noticed how he covered Tina’s hand with his palm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Actually, my wife passed away a few years ago. I’m here on my own.”

  “Oh my. How awful.” Tina looked as if she could spout tears.

  “Thank you.” Paxton was good at this. I could tell he had been used to women reacting this way. I didn’t catch it on his front porch.

  Cricket shoved a glass of wine in his hand. “Hi, I’m Cricket. I live right down the street from you. I can’t believe I haven’t been down to see you yet.” She looked as astonished as she sounded.

  “Thank you. How did you know I was a white wine drinker?”

  “Instinct, I guess.” Cricket brushed her bangs from her eyes, making the bangles on her wrist jingle. I wondered what Johnny would think if he saw her flirting openly in front of the entire group.

  “Why don’t you sit over there since you and Audrey are already acquainted?” Tina pointed to the seat next to me.

  Paxton smiled and took a seat. “Looks good to me.”

  I shot him half a grin. When we were standing on his porch and I mentioned book club, it didn’t seem like a monumental event, but now sitting next to him with all eyes gawking at his chiseled and foreign physique, I disagreed. This was huge. I had created a moment in our book club’s history.

  “All right.” Tina waited for the excitement to settle. “Let’s welcome Paxton here. Wouldn’t it be a hoot if we had name tags tonight?” Tina was the type who wasn’t embarrassed about laughing at her own jokes.

  “Don’t let me change up what you do here. I’m really here to say hello. I don’t have much of a social life outside of work,” Paxton added.

  “Wait. I know who you are,” Lindsey Miller blurted out. “You’re running for the state senate.” She said it with authority, as if she had cracked a case.

  Paxton took the accusation calmly. “You caught me.”

  “I knew you looked familiar.” Lindsey couldn’t stop. “I read a piece on your family and how they’ve put millions into your campaign.”

  “Lindsey, I don’t think this is the place—” Tina looked embarrassed.

  He held up a hand, to relax the hostess. “I get that a lot, Tina. It’s fine. I’m open to questions anytime. But, maybe we could start with the book and then talk politics after.” His grin reached from one side of his face to the other. It was picture perfect.

  Tina glared at Lindsey. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.” She looked annoyed that Tina forced an apology out of her.

  “It’s fine.” He sat back in his chair, then toward my ear. “Don’t worry. I still have an hour reserved just for you to convince you to vote for me.”

  I straightened my spine and worried someone had seen him whisper to me. It was too familiar. I had known the man only a few hours and it felt too comfortable.

  “I have my list of questions here.” Tina rattled the paper in the air. “Ok, who thought Donna Tartt wrote just too many pages?”

  The circle groaned. I tried to focus on the book resting in my lap. I drew over the silhouette of the bird with imaginary ink on my fingertip, the discussion picking up around me. All I could feel was Paxton’s stare needling my neck. I didn’t need to turn to know he was watching me.

  I opened the front cover and flipped to a page I had marked with a sticky note. I felt his eyes trace the lines on my fingers. His gaze had moved to my arm. I could feel every flinch. Every glimpse. Every time he turned his head. Every time he smiled at a comment.

  I fastened my fingers under the edge of the chair and picked it up enough to move it an inch. Another inch away felt safer.

  Book club always followed the same format. We gathered, drank, discussed a book, and then spent the next two hours finishing off our hostess’s wine before stumbling home. I poured my third glass, emptying the last of the Moscato.

  From the corner of the kitchen, the scene in front of me seemed surreal. I knew all these women, and I had never seen them act like they did in front of Paxton Tanner. He held them captive, spouting funny stories. They all laughed a little louder.

  He made a path through the center of the cluster, parking himself next to me at the kitchen island. I felt his hand on the small of my back. It was a friendly gesture, but I thought it hinted at something else.

  “You need a refill?”

  I stepped a few inches away from him, and his fingers fell from my shirt. “Maybe half a glass.”

  He moved around Tina’s kitchen as if this was his one hundredth book club meeting, and uncorked a new bottle of wine. It looked light as a feather in his hands.

  “Here you go.” He slid the glass across the counter. “Just for you.”

  I watched as he poured a second glass and took a sip. “Lively crowd.” His eyebrows waggled.

  “Usually is. This group always has a good time when they get together. But, I think you’ve stolen the show tonight.” My tongue started to feel thick as my fourth glass went down quickly—too quickly.

  “Not my intention. I don’t think I realized it was all women.” He shoved a hand in his front pocket. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “You’re last book club was open?”

  “You could say it was unconventional.”

  “Does that mean it was a more liberal neighborhood?” I asked.

  “Ah-hah! Still trying to pin me down.”

  The wine stuck in my throat. I knew I didn’t mean anything suggestive, but the way he strung his words together made me second-guess everything I uttered to him. I was confused. Was he baiting me, or the other way around?

  “No, I’m not. I just—” I tipped the last drops of wine into my mouth and placed my empty glass next to the sink. “It’s getting late.”

  I brushed past him.

  “Tina, thanks for hostessing.” I pecked her on the cheek.

  “You’re going already?” It was a customary response.

  “Yes, I have a short day at school tomorrow, but have to get some sleep.”

  “We’ll see you next month.”

  I lugged my book under arm and pushed open the glass storm door. There was little relief outside from the stuffiness of Tina’s house, but the darkness made it feel cooler, even if it was only in my head.

  “Wait. Audrey, wait.”

  I heard his voice call across the lawn. I stopped on the sidewalk. “Hey, I was just headed hom
e.” I thought the last part of my sentence sounded slurred.

  “Why don’t I walk you?” he offered. “The way you left, I thought I might have said something I shouldn’t have.”

  “No, no. It’s getting late and you’ve got potential voters in there.” I motioned toward the house. We could see the women through the window.

  “But I think you promised me an hour. I’m up to the challenge if you are.”

  I swallowed hard. It was flirty the way he said it, or was I reading too much into the inflection in his voice? I felt queasy from the wine and from the way I liked how Paxton spoke to me. I told myself I shouldn’t care how another man talked.

  “We can walk home together. If I’ve convinced you on one topic, you’ll listen to the rest. Deal?”

  It was a simple offer. A neighborly talk about the most pressing current events facing our political system. It was a walk home with someone who shared the same street—our addresses separated by a single digit. It didn’t feel as innocent as I wanted it to be, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Deal.”

  My skin felt dewy. I tried not to be self-conscious of how I must have looked as Paxton and I strolled under the lamplights. My dark blond hair was wavy in the thick humidity.

  I stiffened when his arm brushed next to mine.

  “Tell me something about you,” he urged.

  My sandals scuffed over the concrete. “That’s rather broad. You already know I’m a teacher.”

  “Something about what you like to do. A hobby? What about your free time?”

  “I read a lot. I write a little during the summer. I don’t think there’s anything divisive in that.”

  “No. I guess not.” He paused. “I know one.”

  “One of my hobbies?”

  “Maybe.”

  I wondered what presumptions he had made about my free time.

  “Do you own a gun?”

  I stopped on the pavement. “A gun?”

  “Yes. But I’m guessing by that response you aren’t a gun-toting Southern woman.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’ve never even held one.”

  “We should do something about that.”

  “I haven’t held one because I don’t like guns. I’m not comfortable around them. Never have been.”

  “Then this is the perfect issue for us to dissect.”

  I looked at him. He was at least a head taller than me, taller than Spence I realized. “You’re assuming you know my stance on gun control because I’ve never held a gun, and in this one walk to the house, you’re going to make me a gun lover?”

  “Something like that. But, I didn’t say gun lover. Those are your words.”

  “Do you have a gun?” I asked.

  “Several in fact. I’m a member at one of the shooting clubs.”

  I tried to picture him hitting targets. “I don’t think I could ever be comfortable with them.”

  “Then you are going to be my project. I will get you to think you should give me your vote even if we disagree. Trust that I will take your concerns into consideration every time I face legislation on gun control. Because I will, Audrey. I’ll think about this exact conversation. This is my job. I want to listen. I want to hear everything you’re thinking about.”

  We hadn’t started the discussion yet, and I could already feel the shift in my thinking leaving me feeling unbalanced, as if I had one leg hanging off a balance beam. Paxton had a way with words that was seductive.

  “Is it important to you that I like you?” I didn’t mean to be blunt.

  “Yes.” His arm brushed mine again, but this time I wasn’t sure it was an accident.

  “I’m just one little vote. You probably have the rest of the neighborhood in the bag. The book club was impressed with you.”

  I thought he might be digesting my statement. “Every vote counts. Every person matters. You matter.”

  We turned at the corner. I could see my driveway ahead. “You sound like an idealist.”

  The center of my chest warmed when I heard the sound of his laugh. I wasn’t supposed to feel that when I heard another man laugh. I wasn’t supposed to react at all.

  “I’ve been accused of worse. How about an idealist who wants his ideals to become reality?” He ventured a compromise.

  I wondered if he and Sarah had conversations like these. Did he try to change her stance on issues? Did he woo her to his side of the fence with charismatic comebacks?

  “Audrey?”

  “Yeah. Sounds good.”

  “I think I lost you for a second.”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “I aimed too high with gun control, didn’t I? It’s an intense issue.” His expression changed.

  “It’s not that.” I couldn’t explain what was happening. I should be able to have a mature conversation with my neighbor. We should be able to stroll on the sidewalk. I should be able to be next to him without thinking about his lips. Lips that smiled like a movie star. Something was changing and I couldn’t stop it.

  There was enough light filtering through the crepe myrtles that I could see the muscles tensing in his neck. Had I said something wrong?

  The flowerbed that marked the entrance to Paxton’s driveway was a few paces from where we stood. I quickened my step.

  “I like talking to you. It’s nice to be able to talk without worrying about the consequences.”

  My eyes flashed to his. But there were consequences. Things were happening inside me. My skin was flushed, my nerves vibrating, my pulse thumping hard against the inside of my head. He couldn’t see any of it, but I wasn’t certain he didn’t feel it.

  I took a step, forgetting about the lumpy spot in front of his driveway, and almost landed on my face. Paxton gripped my arm, pulling me upward, saving me from landing facedown.

  “Whoa there. You ok?”

  “God, I’m sorry.” I shook off his hold. “I’m fine. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Stupid roots everywhere.” I noticed the way my arm ached from his grip. It was warm and pulsing. “Good night. Thanks for walking me home.” I wanted to run, speed past him. Run straight out of my skin.

  “But, it’s dark. Let me at least drop you off at your door,” he suggested. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

  I hesitated. There was a part of me hoping he would offer.

  “All right. We can cut through your yard. There’s a short cut.”

  “Show me.”

  I followed Paxton along the driveway, noticing the lights in my house were off. This was late even for Spencer. Maybe he had gone to bed.

  We passed the front porch, and I pointed to the path I used earlier that day. I could feel him behind me, taking each step I took. I grabbed one of the stiff magnolia branches and forced it to the side when I felt his hand land on top of mine.

  I stopped, frozen with dread, consumed with something I hadn’t felt in years. I held onto the branch, and Paxton held onto my hand, the warmth of his palm starting to heat my skin.

  His breath was heavy on my neck. It felt like waves pounding against me, each one eroding the barrier between us. I was afraid to turn around, afraid that if I looked at him I would unravel. As long as I stared at the branch, I was still in control. I couldn’t speak.

  With his free hand, he pushed the hair off my neck and blew across the collar of my shirt. My knees wobbled and I gripped tighter on the branch, forcing it to keep me upright.

  It was involuntary, but my head reeled back. He stepped closer. I didn’t know who I was. Hiding in the shadows while a man I barely knew touched me, like a woman who was available. A woman who was free to make choices about who touched her. I wasn’t that woman. My life was tied to Spence. Those choices weren’t mine to make, but I was making one. His was breathing freedom across my skin I didn’t know I craved.

  His hand canvassed my neck, taking my throat in his palm. He ran a finger down the center, pressing lightly as he crossed my collarbone. I didn’t think I could stand t
here much longer as his fingertips explored my skin. The cicadas echoing around our yards drowned out the sound of my heavy breath.

  I needed to stop this. But I craved it more.

  I couldn’t open my eyes when he turned me toward him. If I kept them closed, it was as if I were dreaming. This was all a wine-induced dream. I could tell myself it wasn’t happening. Standing under the branches with a man only hours ago I didn’t know, but was unquestionably drawn to. Pulled in by his voice, the look in his eye, the energy around him. How he managed to be rugged, yet refined. But I knew when his mouth took mine that it was real. I could taste the wine on his tongue and the roughness of his palms as he held my face. I savored the newness of him—our lips moving wildly.

  I clutched at his back. The kiss grew hungrier, our moans turning to whimpers as we snatched at the clothes between us. His teeth grazed across my throat, nipping at the soft spots tenderly then cutting in just enough to tease me.

  I tensed when I felt his hand slide along my stomach and push my bra out of the way. It was too much. I tried to break away and Paxton hung his head.

  “God, I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  I shook my head, feeling sick. “We can’t do this. I-I didn’t want you to kiss me. You weren’t supposed to kiss me.” My fists balled at my side.

  “I know. I know. It was out of line. I got carried away.” He ran his fingers through his perfect haircut. “I’m sorry. That was idiotic.”

  I didn’t wait to continue the conversation. I ran through the magnolia tree and landed on the other side as if I were Alice coming back through the looking glass. I thought I heard Paxton calling my name, but I punched in the garage code and ducked under the rising door.

  Oh my God. I covered my mouth and rushed to our room. I could hear Spencer’s snores from the bedroom door. I crept inside and pulled my shirt over my head, turned on the shower, and stepped in. I scrubbed my entire body twice. I couldn’t shake the urge to throw up.

  I toweled off and slipped into bed next to Spence. He nuzzled into my neck, but never opened his eyes. I started to shake while the tears rolled off my cheeks onto the pillow. I had just undone everything that glued us together.