She hadn’t been thinking. And now that she was, she was more confused than she’d ever been. How could she so enjoy something as simple as holding hands with Arlen when she had no wish to marry him?
It made no sense at all, and in fact, made her feel quite dizzy.
“I— I must start supper.” And with that, she disappeared inside, a hand pressed to her forehead, and far away from Arlen’s amused smile and George’s know-it-all smirk.
Chapter Eleven
“Are you certain youdon’t need any help?” Arlen asked Josie as he set the basket filled with clean, wet linens beside the single tree that sat behind the house.
She leveled him with a gaze that said more than words ever could.
Arlen held up his hands. “All right, I’ll leave you to it. Though I’ll have you know I’m an expert in hanging wet linens.”
“I’m sure you are,” she replied in a dry tone. “You seem to be an expert in all things.”
Arlen tilted his hat. “Indeed I am, ma’am.”
Josie snapped a wet napkin at him. “Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me?”
“Nothing that’s nearly as much fun.” He gave her a wink for good measure. She rolled her eyes heavenward, and Arlen contemplated taking her up in his arms, twirling her about, and then planting a kiss on her lips.
But as Turnip whined and nudged his leg, he put the daydream away for now. There would be time for such things later, after he’d accomplished his responsibilities for the day. He whistled as he made his way around the house, the dog at his heels. First, he’d stop by the barn, and then—
Arlen stopped still when he came about the front of the house. An unfamiliar horse with a fussy buggy—one just big enough for one or two people—sat out front. He eyed the thing, trying to think about who it belonged to. Curiosity overtook him, and leaving Turnip on the porch to bask in the warmth of the afternoon, he entered the front door.
Inside, George sat across from a man in a suit. A suit that looked very familiar . . .
“Mr. Finnegan,” Arlen said, making his way around to see the man.
“Ah, Mr. Thomas! It’s good to see you again.” The man stood and extended his hand.
Arlen paused, then shook the man’s hand.
“Mr. Finnegan was just explaining his offer to me,” George said, standing also. His voice was friendly but strained.
“The one to purchase this land?” Arlen asked.
