“Why are you teaching school? You could make a million dollars a year doing this,” she moaned.

“I’d rather be teaching wild kids than putting up with most women.” His green eyes locked with her brown ones. “You are special, Lily.”

“I sure feel like it right now,” she said. “I could lie here all night if you’d keep that up, but we’ve got to get up in the morning. But five more minutes, please.”

“For five more minutes. Then I get to walk you to the end of the staircase and have a good-night kiss,” he said.

Lily thought that she might just drag him up the stairs, throw him down on her bed, and make wild, passionate love with him until morning if he’d massage her feet for ten more minutes, but she didn’t say that. She simply nodded, and wondered if the second kiss would affect her as much as the first one had.

When the five minutes had passed, she stood up, folded the quilt, and laid it on the back of the sofa. Mack tucked her hand in his and led her to the bottom of the stairs. She expected a quick kiss, but he looked deeply into her eyes, ran the palm of his hand down her cheek, and traced her lips with his fingertips.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue just as his mouth closed over hers. It started out as a sweet kiss, but then his tongue touched her lower lip, asking permission to enter. She opened up to him and the kiss deepened into more. Her knees went weak so she wrapped her arms around his neck. When the kiss ended, she leaned into him and laid her cheek on his chest. His heart was beating as wildly as her own—the two of them keeping time together.

“Wow!” he muttered. “How about another foot rub?”

She tiptoed and kissed him on the cheek. “That might lead to more than kisses.”

“I’m willing if you are.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she said. “Good night, Mack.” She took a step back and started up the stairs.

“Good night, Lily.” His deep drawl followed her up to her room. She closed the door behind her and fell backward onto the bed. The springs squeaked and the slats creaked, but she didn’t care. All her hormones screamed for more than just a long, passionate kiss. Every nerve tingled, and it would take more than sucking on a lemon to wipe the smile off her face.

Lily picked up the journal and went over to Holly’s room. She rapped on the door, and Holly yelled, “Come on in.”

“Want to see what happens next?”

“Sure,” Holly said. “It’ll take my mind off Rose and Ivy.”

Lily opened the journal and began to read.

Jenny Medford O’Riley, May 1889: