“How surprising.”
“What's surprising is the lack of sarcasm in your tone,” I said.
“And you're funny.” He frowned. “You remind me of ...”
“Yes?” I asked with lifted brows.
He eased closer and looked into my eyes.
“I have the strangest feeling that we know each other,” his voice dropped to a purr, “intimately.”
“Whoa!” I held up a hand and eased backward. “That's a little too much pressure on this country girl. Ease your intimacies out of my vicinity, Your Highness.”
“You have the strangest manner,” he said. “I think I like it.”
“You're looking for another woman, remember?”
“Yes”–he blinked in confusion–“perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” I asked him. “How fickle. Fickle and typical... typfick.”
“Typfick?”
“Well, you can't combine them the other way because although they'd be spelled differently, they'd still sound the same: typickle or fical.”
“You could remove a couple of letters... no, that would make it tickle and file or pickle and ick. Oh, never mind.”
I burst into laughter and then covered my mouth in shock. “I've never had anyone understand my word games.”
“I like words.” He shrugged. “Words carry weight, and each one can mean many different things depending on how you say them.”
“Yes! Exactly.” I smiled, and then it softened as I stared into his eyes.
“Madelyn!” Hazel shouted.
“I have to go,” I whispered.
Weston glanced at the house and then back to me. “Can I come by to visit you again?”
“You want to come back and seeme?” I asked in surprise.
“Madelyn!” Kaylee added her shout to her sister's. “This stuff is starting to burn!”
Weston scowled at the house before looking back at me. “Yes, perhaps when you're not so busy with burning women.”
“Yeah, sure,” I huffed and headed inside.
“Madelyn,” he called out.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for the water.”
Chapter Nine
I was scrubbing dye from my fingers, bent over a bucket in the backyard when I heard another rider approaching. I smiled to myself as I dried my hands on my skirts and turned to the sound of footsteps.
“Back so soon?” I asked, expecting to see Weston. “Oh, hello.”
