“Good. I hadn’t thought about that.” His tone was laced with teasing. “I was simply enjoying spending time with Mr. Keller. He’s a nice fellow.”
She swept more leftovers into the bucket. “He’s a very smart man, even if he can’t express himself.”
“It’s clear he’s attempting to make the most of his life.” He crossed to the opposite side of the worktable and began to gather up the bowls and silverware she’d used in making the garlic bread now rising in a warm spot on the stove.
“It was kind of you to spend the entire night. You’ll be tired later.”
“Not me. A few hours of slumber in an uncomfortable and too-small chair has made me into a new person.”
She smiled as she swiped up a dishrag and began to wipe the counter. “And thank you for taking care of the chores yesterday and last night. I appreciate that too.”
“Of course. I’m always happy when I can make a woman’s dreams come true.” He winked.
And there he was, his annoying self again. “I admit, I was surprised to discover you were capable of completing any chores, especially anything that required you to use your muscles.” She would have liked to have seen him chopping wood. All his brawn would have been a magnificent sight to behold.
He carried the dirty dishes to the sink. “So, you’re thinking about my muscles?”
“No, of course not.” She had been, but she snorted and changed the subject. “I suppose you’re anxious to leave just as soon as you can?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t kicked me out the front door yet.”
He’d avoided answering her question. Why? Did he want to stay? “I didn’t have the heart to kick you out when you were sleeping so comfortably.”
This time he didn’t acknowledge her effort at teasing, not with a nod or grin or laugh. Instead, he rolled up his shirt sleeves, almost as if he didn’t quite know what to say.
The more the silence dragged, the tighter her chest drew.
He pushed his sleeves past his elbows, then reached for a kettle on the stove and dumped warm water into the sink and over the dishes. When he picked up the bar of soap at the back of the sink and began to lather a rag, she couldn’t stand aside and watch him any longer. She huffed and then strode toward him.
Before he could move out of reach, she snatched the soap from his hand.
He paused, the soapy dishrag poised above the first bowl. She could almost see his mind at work trying to figure out what she was up to. Clearly not having a clue, he began scrubbing.
She lunged for the dishrag.
As though he’d been anticipating her move, he lifted the dripping rag up over their heads.
She jumped for it, latched onto the bottom, and started to draw it away.
He extended his hand higher, moving it out of her grasp.
“Give me the rag.” She hopped again, clasped his arm, and tried to drag it down.
He watched her useless effort and quirked a brow. “If you want to feel my strong arms, all you need to do is ask. I’ll gladly allow it.”
Her hand spread over the solidness of his upper arm. She couldn’t get her fingers to fit around his entire bicep. Even so, she released a scoffing sound. “For a second, I thought I was holding on to a baby goat—”
With a grin, he flexed, the muscles popping even more.
He was all strength and sinew with no baby goat in sight. Her fingers betrayed her with the need to linger, to relish the ripple of his muscles. But if she wanted to maintain any dignity, she had to keep a clear head. She dropped her hand and stood back, clutching the bar of soap. “You’re free to go.”
His gaze snapped to her, surprise filling his eyes.
She fisted her hands on her hips and glared at him. She didn’t want him doing her dishes and then walking out her door. He could leave now, and she’d take care of the dishes all on her own.
He didn’t lower the dishrag, still held it above his head, water dripping slowly to the floor. “What if I’m not ready to go yet?”
Why wouldn’t he be ready? It was past the noon hour. He’d need to get into town, secure his passage for the stagecoach, and make sure he was on the last ride out for the night. If he missed today, he’d only leave tomorrow.
His eyes held hers and this time contained no mirth. The blue was as dark and serious as a deep well. “I’ll help you again tonight, stay with Mr. Keller, let you and Mrs. Keller sleep.”
“Why?” She lifted her chin, not caring that her tone was demanding. “What difference will one more night make?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but for once, he didn’t say anything witty or playful or seductive. He clamped his lips closed and dropped the dishrag into the sink before taking a step back. “I shall ride into town and see if I can finish finding you the help you need.”
“I can take care of that myself.”
“I know.” His voice grew solemn. “But I’d like to do it. If you’ll allow me.”
She wanted to tell him no. To ride away and never come back. But something about the way he stood stiffly, almost sadly, gave her pause.
Was he reluctant to leave?
Her heart gave an extra thud at the prospect, but then just as quickly, she forced her pulse to beat at the regular pace. “Mr. Berg, I don’t want you to delay on account of me any longer.”
“I’m the one dragging my feet in leaving.” The admission was soft and his eyes warm.
This time when her heart sputtered faster, she allowed it. For all of three seconds. Then she reined it in with a hard jerk. “You shouldn’t stay, not when you know it’s only postponing the inevitable.”
He hesitated, then gave a curt nod. “You really do need the help here. When I’m making my traveling arrangements, I’ll do some checking around and see if anyone is interested in your advertisement.”
He was being sincere. She could be sincere too, couldn’t she? “Thank you. If you want to take the wagon, I can walk into town later today or tomorrow and retrieve it.”
“No, I’ll locate someone to drive it back.” He rubbed his hand over the scruff on his jaw, looked everywhere in the kitchen but at her. Finally, he shot a glance at her. “You’re someone special, Felicity Courtney. And I’ve been privileged to meet you.”
She wanted to find something to say in farewell, words about coming to visit again, or writing her a letter, or not forgetting about her. But she bit them back. What was the use in encouraging any future communication?
“Goodbye, Mr. Berg.” It was best to keep this parting short and to the point.
She placed the soap back on the sink. Then she picked up the wooden spoon she’d been using to stir the sauce and returned to the pot on low heat at the back of the stovetop. She circled the spoon inside unseeingly, her mind envisioning Philip sleeping on the chair beside her this morning, so good-looking.
Behind her, she could feel him watching her, perhaps even waiting for her to turn around and face him one more time. But she refrained and kept stirring, rooted to the spot in front of the stove.
After achingly long seconds, she heard him plod out of the kitchen. He headed up the stairs, and although she couldn’t hear his conversation with the Kellers, she guessed he was telling them goodbye. When his footsteps descended, she held her breath, waiting for him to enter the kitchen and speak with her again, perhaps tell her he’d changed his mind and intended to remain.