He crossed his arms and hid his smile. “Okay, if that’s how you want to play this. How are you spending the afternoon, Katie Rose?”
“If you must know, I have papers to grade and a lesson plan for the third grade to get ready.”
“And the reading test for the sixth graders?”
“Jah, that too.”
“Well, missy, that sounds suspiciously like work.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again instead. He tried not to be too pleased with himself for leaving her speechless.
“Tell me, what’s allowed on Sundays?”
She took a deep breath, a thoughtful look on her face. Or was it annoyance?
“Milkin’ the cows,” she started. “Cookin’ and cleanin’ up afterward. Feedin’ the animals. Readyin’ for church service. Cleanin’ up after that.”
“What about a buggy ride?”
“Jah, I suppose a buggy ride would be allowed.”
“Good. Then let’s go.” He took her arm, intent on steering her down the steps toward the Fishers’ buggy still parked in front of the house.
She pulled back, as focused on not going down the porch steps as he was on drawing her down them. “Actually, I was just about to unhitch the wagon.”
“Perfect timing, then.”
She shook her head, the loose strings of her head covering waving with the motion. “The horses need to be watered and brushed down.”
“If we give them a drink now, couldn’t we brush them down after a slow and easy ride?”
She nodded, her brows knitted together.
Why was she so bent on not spending any time with him? Unless . . . he tilted his head, watching her. “Are you afraid of me?”
“Don’t be silly.” She turned her face away.
Her attitude could only mean one thing: she felt the same pull between them. But what good would it do either one of them to pursue such an attraction? In a couple of months he would head back to Chicago. He was getting married and going back on assignment—a real assignment. And she would be here, among her people, with her church and family.
He reached for her, guiding her gently along the porch. The chemistry they shared could pull them together, make them the best of friends. Even if that’s all they would ever be.
At the bottom of the porch steps, he turned her to face him. “I don’t want anything from you. You know that, right?”
She stared at the ground, not acknowledging his words one way or the other.
Zane hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up so he could see her eyes. “We can be friends, can’t we?”
“Of course.” Her voice was the barest whisper.
“And friends can go on walks and buggy rides.” He still held her chin in his hand, her mouth at the perfect angle for kissing.
She nervously licked her lips as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “I reckon.”