“It’s even better than the ones at market,” she said through cream.

He grinned. “I made it.”

She dropped her jaw, revealing a mouth full of half-chewed, chocolate cake. “Then you are a genius, too. How do you mix the ingredients?”

Half a whoopie pie vanished in one bite. He licked his lips. “Air-powered mixer.”

She knew he was ingenious, but could the guy actually harness the wind? “Air-powered?”

“Compressed air. We get it by the tank.”

“Really?” She couldn’t suppress a skeptical tone. She planted her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. He nodded like he knew what was coming. “So compressed air, diesel engines, and gas lamps are all permitted, but regular old electricity isn’t?”

“Yes.” With another bite, his whoopie pie disappeared.

“Forgive me, but I just don’t understand.”

“With respect, the rules of the Ordnung were not designed to make sense to you.” He dipped his head. “They vary widely by community, and to tell the truth, I don’t even understand all of them. Nor do I always obey them.” He jutted his smooth-shaven chin. “I do know that electric power lines are a literal connection to the world as well as a symbolic one. We refuse to accept such ties. If we want to preserve our separateness, we cannot accept them. Our mandate is Biblical—to be ‘in the world but not of it.’ ”

Unable to recall the last time she drank whole milk, she drained her glass. It was almost too creamy. “So, I am both in and of the world.”

“You are.”

“Because my refrigerator runs on electricity, and yours runs on gas.”

“You have milk around your mouth.” Hooking her chair leg with one foot, he dragged her closer. He dabbed her milk moustache with his thumb and cupped her cheek and kissed her.

His lips were salty from the ham. She interlaced her fingers around his neck and urged him nearer.

Deepening the kiss, he grazed the lump on her forehead.

With a start, she flinched.

“I’m sorry.” He released her chair. “Do you feel sleepy?”

A yawn unhinged her jaw, and her throat creaked. The distant rush of the still-swollen creek floated through an open window. With a shiver, she nodded.

“Why don’t I take you upstairs?”

She silkened her voice. “Kiss me first.”

He did—so tenderly she was amazed she didn’t dissolve into a puddle on the floor. When he shifted away, she restrained him with a teasing nibble on his bottom lip.

Exhaling a soft sound, he slid an arm around her waist, drawing her tightly to his chest.

He was so solid and strong. Tired and bruised as she was, she wanted nothing more than to feel her body match his strength. “Stay with me,” she whispered.

“You need rest.” With a smile, he swept her into his arms and carried her upstairs.