“Are you trying to butter me up?” She giggled at the idea.
“Why yes, Miss Clara, I am.” Zane winked.
“To what purpose? I already keep you in coffee and cookies.”
He leaned so close his minty breath tickled her ear. “Why? So you’ll kiss me later. Do you realize it’s been over twenty-four hours since you last kissed me? I might perish.”
She swatted his arm. “Goof-ball. Get those angels filled in and I’ll consider your desperate attempt at sucking up.”
She did more than consider the kiss. She fantasized about it while writing genders and ages on tags. As she wrote the word boy, she had a sudden image of a little boy, who looked exactly like Zane, running around the inn, calling her Mommy.
Shoot. She needed to distance herself from Zane, and now. She was in over her head, and she liked the feeling.
