She wriggled under the sheet and, taking his hand, urged him closer. Feeling something inside him respond, she nudged his thigh with a knee. Was desire a particle or a wave? Whatever it was, palpable energy coursed through his fingertips at the speed of light.

Still, he resisted. “Not tonight, Tessa Rose.”

“But we don’t have to—”

“Trust me.” He brushed his lips over hers and squeezed her hand. “Goodnight.”

The stairs whined, and the glow from the upstairs landing dimmed as he extinguished the lights.

She twisted her lips in a naughty smile and tucked the sheet under her chin. Jenn would never believe it. She, Tessa Meadows, was just caught seducing an Amish guy. Given the chance, she’d do it again.

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Sitting on the back steps the next morning, Tessa shoved her sneakers over stiff, line-dried socks and tugged down her tee. Broadfall trousers, rolled at the ankles, hung loosely from suspenders buttoned over her shoulders. She grabbed the rail and pulled herself to standing, amazed just how much better she felt after one day of total rest.

“I don’t have much to offer.” Jonas tossed a peach pit into the grass. “But how about a day on the farm?”

“I’d like nothing better.” With a peck on the cheek, she followed him into the sun-dappled morning. Needless to say, she hadn’t been awake for the early milking. Nor for any number of pre-dawn chores Jonas completed. A roof repair was next on the docket. The same winds that blew her van into the creek also rocketed a tree limb through the pantry roof, scattering a mess of debris. Several jars of preserves shattered, spewing their contents all over Nora’s pristine counter and floor—an open invitation to hungry critters.

Jonas put off the job a day, but it couldn’t be postponed any longer. He leaned a ladder against the roof and mounted the bottom step.

She hooked her thumbs through the suspenders and rocked back on her heels. “I’m really so much better. I can climb up and help.”

Chuckling, he cocked a brow. “Absolutely not. I didn’t pull you from the creek just to tumble off my roof.”

So, she held the ladder, handed him tools, and cleaned broken glass and pickled asparagus from the pantry floor. The sound of hammer on wood was familiar and comforting. He completed the gazebo just two days earlier, impossible as that trick of time was to comprehend, and she already missed the sounds of carpentry.

He sang hymns in German and whistled Bruce Springsteen.

She cleaned until the wood and linoleum sparkled, then she nudged the remaining jars into the spaces left by the ones that fell. When she came home, Nora would never know what happened.

When Nora came home.