Through a Magnolia Filter

by Nan Dixon

  “Liam’s spent enough time with you to know that’s not true.” Abby came over and rubbed Dolley’s left arm. “Don’t worry.”

  Dolley winced.

  Abby pulled away. “What’s wrong?”

  “I fell climbing the River Street stairs.” She exhaled. “And landed on my left side.”

  “Oh, Dolley.” Abby reached out to hug her but stopped. “Would a cup of tea help?”

  “Yes.” Dolley shuffled to the sitting area and eased onto the sofa with a groan. “Any muffins left from breakfast?”

  “Do you want apple cinnamon or the ginger fig?”

  “Ginger fig.”

  Dolley leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes. What if Liam had second thoughts? What if he believed she was mercenary? Had kissing him seemed like a ploy, too? Her head throbbed with worry.

  “Here you go.” Abby set a mug of tea on the coffee table. Then she handed her a couple of ibuprofen and a warm muffin with cream cheese melting on the top.

  “You’re the best.” Dolley swallowed the pills.

  “What are you doing here so early?”

  “I didn’t want to walk to my apartment last night.” Dolley shifted off a sore spot. “I crashed in the carriage house.”

  “You must really hurt.” Abby turned to her lists. “Did you get your bridesmaid’s dress back from the seamstress yesterday?”

  “I didn’t have a chance. I might have Technicolor skin for your wedding.”

  “You’re that bruised?” Alarm filled Abby’s voice.

  Dolley rolled up the sleeve of her sweater. A deep purple bruise covered most of her upper arm.

  “Ouch. There’s always makeup. Maybe the bruises will fade in two weeks.”

  “If they don’t, Liam will make me touch up the photos.” Assuming he didn’t fire her. “Or I can only have the right side of my body in the pictures.”

  They both chuckled.

  “Don’t make me laugh.” Dolley grabbed her ribs. “It hurts.”

  Abby sat on the coffee table and took her good hand. “I should take you to the ER. You could have cracked a rib.”

  “I’m just sore.” Dolley changed the subject. “I saw Mamma’s coming down the end of the week.”

  A smile lit Abby’s face. “She loved the idea of being part of Liam’s documentary. Personally, I think she wants to adopt the man. We’ll do the interview before the wedding.”

  “Great.” Not. She didn’t want to have to talk on camera. Dolley rolled a little. The bruise on her hip ached.

  While she finished her tea and muffin, they talked about Carleton House and timing issues. “I guess I’ll see if I can find Liam.”

  Maybe she should call. Going to his room might make him doubt her sincerity even more. She rolled her shoulders. Mistake. She breathed through the pain.

  Even after taking the elevator, she was groaning by the time she knocked on Liam’s door.

  “Coming,” he called.

  The door opened. His face was a solemn mask. “Hallo.”

  His blue gaze stole her breath. She wheezed out, “Hi.”

  They stared at each other. Sound slipped away. There was only him. Their chests rose and fell in sync.

  He didn’t reach for her. Did he regret last night? Or was it happening again? A couple of kisses and another man was done with her.

  “Would you like to come in?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She forced her feet to move in a limping shuffle.

  Last time she’d been in his room, she hadn’t noticed the clutter of Liam’s life. Piles of books overflowed the tables. Flip charts hung from the walls. Notepads occupied the chairs. “Impressive.”

  “Yes.” But he wasn’t looking at his work, he was looking at her.

  A blush heated her face—darn redheaded genes.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Nervous.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, her fingers tapping her sweater. “Embarrassed. Anxious.”

  His eyebrows popped up. “I meant your side. Where you fell.”

  “Oh.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Sore. I’m growing impressive bruises.”

  “I’m sorry you were hurt.”

  They stood in the middle of the room.

  “I just—” she said.

  “Last night—” he started at the same time.

  They both stopped.

  “Sit.” He cleared a tablet off the sofa.

  She sank onto the cushions, easing her foot onto the coffee table.

  Instead of sitting next to her, he took the armchair. “Go ahead.”

  She’d rather Liam go first.

  If she apologized again and he thanked her but wanted nothing more to do with her, she’d curl into a depressed ball. Stalling, she asked, “What were you going to say?”

  “Ladies first.”

  “I’m sorry Anne made me sound...like such a scheming bitch.” She looked into his eyes, biting her lower lip. “It’s not true.”

  “Do you think I think so little of you?” His voice was low and deep.

  “I...I don’t know.” She rubbed her temple. “I’m not good with men.”

  “You have more male friends than I do!”

  “I’m not good at the—” she waved her hand between their bodies “—romantic part. Men don’t like me that way.”

  “Then they don’t see how amazing you are, darlin’.” He shifted to the sofa, sitting on her right side. “May I put my arm around you?”

  She nodded, afraid if she talked, her voice would crack.

  Carefully, he tucked her into his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She turned her face into his shirt. “You were upset last night.”

  “I got over it.” He brushed his lips on her forehead. “You kissed my anger away.”

  She traced patterns on his chest. The ability to touch him felt natural but odd.

  “What are you frettin’ on?” he asked.

  “Why are you so different?” she blurted out.

  “Different?” He smoothed a curl off her face. “How’s that?”

  “You’ve been around me for almost a month.” She looked at her lap. “Most guys tire of me by now.”

  He tugged her chin up. “I told you, Yanks don’t appreciate you.”

  Cupping her cheek, he dipped his head. His eyes were so serious, it made her breath catch in her chest.

  “You’re special.” His mouth brushed hers.

  She tilted her head, wanting more than a soft, tender kiss.

  His lips pressed harder, and she opened to him. He delved in and stroked her tongue.

  She chased his tongue with hers, tasting coffee and mint and Liam.

  He groaned. His hand slipped to her chest, hesitating when she wanted him to be bold.

  She pressed his hand to her breast.

  “Dolley.” His hands tested and massaged. His thumb brushed against her aching nipple. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her onto his lap.

  “Owww.” Pain knifed through her.

  He cursed. “I forgot. I’m sorry. Sorry.”

  She let out a shaky breath, tears filling her eyes. “Damn.”

  His hand stroked her back. “Are you all right?”

  She took a shallow, shaky breath. “I will be.”

  He eased her back onto the sofa. “I should have waited.”

  “I didn’t want you to.” She wanted more, but the pain was too much.

  Concern filled his face. “Can I get you something? Do you need pills, water?”

  “Abby took care of me.” She smoothed her finger over the furrows between his eyebrows. “Now what?”

  He pressed a chaste kiss
on her lips. “Now we work in the attic.”

  She chuckled. “You say the sweetest things.”

  As they headed to the elevator, she asked, “Working together won’t change, right?” Anxiousness made her voice crack.

  “I always thought we could work together and have a relationship.” His jaw flexed. “Why don’t we take it a day at a time?”

  One day at a time. She liked to plan a little further ahead than that. But maybe that was her problem. “Okay. A day at a time.”

  * * *

  DOLLEY GRABBED THE box of half-dead plants from her car. It was moving day for her and Carleton House.

  No working with Liam on research or photography today. She sighed. And no kisses. His kisses over the last week and a half were the highlight of her day. Year. Decade. She worried she was a junkie, first addicted to his cologne and now his kisses.

  Bess and Abby exited the Fitzgerald House kitchen door.

  “Moving day!” Abby called from across the courtyard. “Do you want me to grab anything?”

  “There are boxes and suitcases in my car.” Dolley hurried up the steps as fast as she could. Most of the soreness had eased, but her hip still hurt. Plus, she didn’t want Bess to see the plants she’d almost killed.

  “What have you done?” Bess’s steps pounded behind her.

  “How could you see the plants from across the courtyard?” Dolley asked.

  Bess shook her head. “I heard them crying.”

  Dolley handed Bess the box and unlocked the door. “I’ve been busy.”

  “No excuses,” Bess scolded, taking the box into the kitchen. She pulled out a drooping Peace Lily and African violet. “Oh, my lands.”

  Dolley left her tending the abused plants. She held the door for Abby as her sister hauled in a suitcase, then headed to the car to grab more boxes.

  The car was empty in fifteen minutes.

  “I feel like we just moved Bess out of here.” Abby sank to the floor.

  “We did.” Dolley checked to see if any of the trucks had arrived.

  “Daniel’s just leaving your apartment.” Bess looked up from her phone. “Rest while you can, ladies. We’ll unload your furniture. The first truck for Carleton House arrives in fifty minutes.”

  “It’s hard to believe this is happening.” Abby bounced a little. “Last year Fitzgerald House had unfinished rooms.”

  They talked about reservations and Abby’s wedding and Bess’s engagement. She hadn’t figured out how to tell her sisters about Liam.

  She chewed her nail.

  “Not you, too.” Abby tapped her hand. “Don’t pick up Bess’s bad habit.”

  Dolley pulled her thumb away from her mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” Bess asked. “Still sore?”

  “Yeah.” Let them think it was her bruises rather than confessing she was in a relationship with her mentor. She didn’t want anyone to think what she and Liam were exploring was—sleazy. She took in a deep breath. It was amazing. He was amazing.

  The rumble of a truck in the parking lot had them pushing to their feet.

  “Let’s do this.” Dolley led the way down the steps.

  “You’re limping,” Abby said to Dolley. “Hand out boxes from the truck.”

  “Okay.” Dolley didn’t argue.

  Gray dropped the truck ramp with a clang. “Are you ready?”

  Abby pulled him into a hug. “Always.”

  Daniel came around from the front of the truck and swung Bess into a hug. “’Morning.”

  The two couples kissed.

  “Enough,” Dolley called out, wishing Liam was here to greet her the same way. She climbed into the truck and handed boxes to her sisters. “Do something constructive.”

  Daniel and Gray pulled out her sofa.

  While they climbed the stairs, she moved boxes to the truck ramp. It held most of her possessions. If she left Savannah, what would she do with her things? Her stomach twisted at the thought.

  “What can I haul up?” Liam called from outside.

  Warmth filled her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Helping.” He hopped into the truck and closed in on her.

  “You’re a guest.” Dolley chewed her lip.

  Touching her cheek, he said, “I want to help. You’re not completely healed.”

  She drew in a quick breath, leaning into his touch. Her heart pounded. After being around him for a while, shouldn’t this physical reaction lessen? “Thanks.”

  “’Morning.” His voice was low. It drilled into her core.

  Her hand covered his. “’Morning.”

  Footsteps echoed on the stairs.

  They stepped apart.

  “I feel guilty pulling you away from your work,” she said.

  “Don’t.” His eyes sparkled in the dim light. “It just means you’ll have to spend late nights helping me catch up.”

  He jumped out of the truck and grabbed a box before she could reply.

  Swallowing, she stripped off her fleece sweatshirt. It was heating up in here.

  They emptied the truck. Boxes and people filled her new living room.

  Daniel looked up from his phone. “The first Carleton House truck is almost here.”

  Everyone headed over to Carleton House, but she held Liam back.

  “Thank you.” She stood on her toes and brushed a kiss on his lips.

  He backed her against the door, his fingers threading through her hair. “I hated the idea of not seeing you all day.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and he took advantage of her surprise. Their tongues thrust and parried, a mock duel she didn’t mind losing.

  When he pulled away, she was gasping. Thank goodness she was leaning against the door, or her legs might have given way.

  He grinned. “Let’s head to Carleton House.”

  “You’re cruel,” she muttered.

  Working around Liam all day was torture. He was everywhere, and she couldn’t stop admiring his butt as he lifted and carried.

  They took a break in the Carleton House dining room. Cheryl set out muffins, and the moving crew hovered next to the trays and coffeepot.

  Dolley frowned. “You’re wearing blue jeans.”

  Liam looked down, his golden skin tinged with pink. “Aye.”

  “I’ve never seen you in blue jeans.” And he wore a flannel shirt.

  He shrugged and headed to the tray of treats.

  Liam, Nathan and Daniel stood next to each other. And they all wore the same thing. Flannel shirts and jeans. Clones.

  Liam always wore black jeans. And she’d never seen him in a flannel shirt.

  Bess set a hand on her shoulder. “The truck with the furniture Mamma bought just arrived from Atlanta. Time to do your thing.”

  Dolley set up in the service entrance. Her memory came in handy on moving day. As people filed by with furniture, she directed them to the proper room. A human Harry Potter sorting hat. When she had a break, she checked off items on the paper list.

  “That floor lamp goes into the Telfair room,” she said to one of the crew. Instead of the presidents’ wives theme from Fitzgerald House, they’d named the Carleton House rooms after Savannah’s squares.

  Liam came in with a bookcase wrapped in a moving blanket. She pulled back the cover and matched the furniture with the inventory in her head. “Second floor hallway opposite Oglethorpe.”

  He shook his head. “You’re amazing.”

  His appreciation warmed her. “I have a good memory.”

  “I have a good memory. You have a computer for a brain.”

  She rolled her shoulder. A computer didn’t sound like a compliment. But he was moving down the hall, and the next piece of furniture waited for so
rting.

  The crews stopped for lunch. Dolley took pictures for the blog. Then they met the next truck.

  “This is very organized.” Dolley touched Bess’s arm. “Congratulations.”

  “I’m too smart to organize this craziness. We have Daniel and Abby at our beck and call.” Bess had been the sister in charge of bringing Carleton House on line. “I brought them together, and they developed the timelines.”

  “Next truck is here,” Daniel announced.

  Workers scrambled to their feet.

  “That should be mattresses,” Bess said.

  The afternoon flew by. When Dolley hadn’t seen Liam for almost an hour, she assumed he’d gone back to work. She missed him.

  He came through the hallway with an armful of flattened boxes.

  Her body warmed. “I thought you left.”

  “Nope. They had me opening boxes. Tellies.”

  “The flat screens?”

  “Yes.”

  “If no one has said it, thank you for all your help.” She touched his arm.

  A smile broke across his face. He’d been doing it so often, she wondered if he knew. He wasn’t hanging in the background like he used to.

  “I’ve been invited to dinner.” He wove their fingers together. “That’s thanks enough, unless you have another way to thank me?”

  The warmth she’d felt all day blossomed into a full-blown fire. From starting her day disappointed she wouldn’t see Liam to spending the day and evening with him was a wonderful surprise. She could think of lots of ways to thank him. Most involved his bed. “I will. In private.”

  She stood on her toes and kissed him.

  “Hey, you two, you’re holding up the line,” Gray called, backing through the door carrying one end of a very large box. Daniel was on the other side. “Here’s the biggest flat screen.”

  “Library,” Dolley squeaked out.

  “Delaney, want to help with this?” Gray glared at Liam as he carried the box past them.

  “Absolutely, lads.” Liam grabbed the middle and moved away from her with a wink.

  Daniel’s eyebrows arched as he moved past her.

  She bit her lip. Should she follow them down the hall and make sure Gray and Daniel weren’t taking this big-brother thing too far?

  “Where does this go?” asked a mover, holding an armoire.