LITMIR.BIZ

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a little.

      Sinking her teeth into the firm flesh, Kate relished the sweet-tart explosion on her tongue. Maybe it was the combination of warm sunshine and fresh air or Josh’s presence beside her, but she was certain this was the most delicious apple she’d ever tasted.

      When the core was all that was left, she glanced over to find him grinning at her.

      “What?”

      “You, ah, have juice dribbling down your chin.”

      “I do?”

      He caught her wrist. “Wait. Use my handkerchief.”

      Pulling a clean white square of cloth from his pants pocket, he reached over and wiped her chin. His other hand still held her wrist, the pads of his fingers pressed against her skin so that surely he could detect the spike in her pulse.

      He lowered his hand. “There,” he murmured with a distracted air, “good as new.”

      “Thanks,” she managed in a weak voice.

      Then, as if just noticing he still held her, he dropped her wrist like a hot coal.

      Surging to his feet, he put distance between them, stroking his goatee in a nervous gesture. “Well, that’s all there is to show you. Tour’s over.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Guess we should head back to the house so that I can warm up the soup Ma made for lunch.”

      What had just happened? Whatever it was, he’d been affected the same way she had. And he didn’t seem at all pleased.

      What was he thinking? Allowing himself to be affected by Kate Morgan. Of all the foolish, irresponsible … Hadn’t he learned a thing from his tangle with one spoiled heiress?

      Annoyed, he was quiet on the walk back and throughout the meal. Kate, perhaps sensing his mood, was quiet as well, seemingly content to listen to his father, brothers and himself discuss farm business.

      With the afternoon stretching before them, he’d decided to show her around town. Strolling beside her, he glanced at her profile.

      She was soaking in their surroundings as if imprinting the scene upon her memory. Was this city girl a nature lover or was this intense observation a result of her profession?

      Her expression brightened. “Look!”

      He followed her gaze to a hollowed-out tree trunk where a momma raccoon and four kits lay curled up in their nest, a tangle of gray-and-white fur.

      “What an adorable sight!” she whispered, her smile full of girlish excitement. “How old do you think they are?”

      “I’d say four or five months.” He matched his voice to hers so as not to disturb the sleeping family.

      “To see them in real life is such a treat!”

      “What? You don’t have raccoons in the big city?”

      She appeared thoughtful. “Perhaps in Central Park. The deer are plentiful there, I’m told, as are foxes.”

      The largest city he’d visited was Knoxville. Amid the noise, crowded streets and hectic pace, he’d quickly discovered he preferred country life.

      “You’ve never been there?” he asked, wondering for the first time what she did to pass the time.

      “A handful of times. I wasn’t fortunate enough to see any wildlife.”

      “Well, there’s plenty of it here.”

      Her gaze was drawn once again to the sleeping raccoons. “I’m continually struck by God’s handiwork. His imagination and creativity. Nature reflects His majesty, wouldn’t you agree?”

      Josh was surprised to hear her speak about God. He’d tried on several occasions to engage Francesca in a conversation about faith, but she’d skirted the issue, saying only that she was a frequent church attendee. Was this another area of difference between the sisters?

      “I agree wholeheartedly.”

      Something in his voice must’ve snagged her attention, for she turned and thoughtfully regarded him. They shared smiles of understanding, an acknowledgment that on this important subject they were in agreement.

      Then, before he could get too accustomed to her heart-melting smiles, he resumed walking. She fell into step beside him.

      Crossing the bridge into town, the first business they passed was his friend Tom’s barbershop. Since it was midafternoon, the shop was empty of customers. Tom stood in back, polishing his tools.

      Glancing out the window, he spotted Josh and waved, his brows hiking up when his gaze lit on Kate. He flashed Josh a wolfish grin and a thumbs-up. He must not have heard of Francesca’s defection.

      The tips of his ears burning, Josh slid his gaze to Kate, who appeared unaware of the exchange. Her stiff black bonnet shielded the sides of her face, so it was unlikely she’d seen anything.

      Great. Everyone was going to assume she was his bride-to-be. He’d forever be explaining himself. It’d be easier to call a town meeting and set the record straight once and for all.

      They walked in the direction of the mercantile. Out of habit, his gaze homed in on the empty store for sale across the street, the one he’d been saving up to buy. When he saw the owner, Chadwick Fulton, ducking inside, he stopped abruptly.

      “I see someone I need to talk to. Would you mind if I met you at the mercantile in about fifteen or twenty minutes?”

      “No, not at all.” Curiosity marked her expression.

      He hesitated, suddenly remembering his and Francesca’s outings in Sevierville and her insistence that he stay by her side. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to feel ill at ease, you being new in town. I can put it off until another time.”

      “Don’t worry,” she surveyed the single road of businesses and smiled, dimples flashing. “I’m fairly certain I won’t get lost.”

      Pleased by her response, Josh smiled back. Apparently, Kate Morgan could take care of herself. “Clawson’s is the last business on this side of the street. You can’t miss it. I’ll catch up with you.”

      He waited until she’d gone inside to cross the street and study the storefront. He imagined the words J. D. O’Malley Furniture Company scrolled in large letters across the plate-glass windows. His dream of opening his own furniture store was so close to reality.

      “Good morning, Mr. Fulton,” he greeted as he entered, closing the door behind him.

      Seated behind the only piece of furniture left behind, a scuffed hunk of wood masquerading as a desk, the old man looked up and grunted. “O’Malley.”

      “How are you today?”

      “What do ya want?”

      Fulton’s grumpy response wasn’t unusual. He was an unhappy, crotchety old man.

      “Sir, I came by to let you know that I’ve almost got the money to buy this place. I’ll be paying you a visit as soon as I finish a few more orders.”

      “The sooner I sell it, the better,” he groused, then shook a gnarled finger at Josh. “Remember, I ain’t holdin’ this place for you. Cash talks, and so far you ain’t shown me any.”

      Josh understood it was the way of business, but he didn’t have to like it. Mr. Fulton wouldn’t agree to accept a deposit. “Yes, sir. I understand.” He tugged on the brim of his hat. “Good day.”

      “Yeah, yeah.” He waved him out. “G’day.”

      After taking one last look around the space and mentally calculating how many pieces he’d need to fill it, he left. He eyed the mercantile across the street, deciding he had time to stop by the post office and see if he had any letters from his cousin Juliana. He wasn’t consistent in his replies, but so far she’d overlooked that fact and

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