Free Love by the Letter by Melissa Jagears Page B

stove.”
    “But it’s a small one, very light.” She held her fingers apart, squinting at the miniscule space between them.
    Everett looked to the heavens and shook his head.
    Cook stove? Who cared if she wanted to take the cook stove? How was he supposed to tell her he couldn’t take her ?
    “I’m sorry, but . . .”
    A whisper behind him, a rustling of skirts, and an escaped giggle sent his temperature up a notch. The entire crowd had perked their ears his way—though some tried to act interested in their baskets, clothing, or the person beside them.
    But even the children were quiet. Why had all these people come so blasted early?
    And Rachel?
    He glanced around until his gaze landed on her face. She was too far off to have heard much, but she could see. Oh yes, she could see. Her face was quite pink, as if she’d been in the sun for hours.
    The woman he wanted to marry turned and walked away, hugging herself about the waist, and Miss Pratt clamped onto his arm.
    “Wait!” Dex hollered, trying to disentangle himself, but Miss Pratt’s slender-fingered grip was firm. “Rachel!”
    Rachel looked back over her shoulder and shook her head at him, her face now ashen. “No,” she mouthed.
    Then Grant stepped out of nowhere with an outstretched hand. “How do, Miss Pratt? Dex hadn’t told us you were coming before he left. Glad to have the chance to meet you. I’m his brother, Grant. And this here’s my son, Allen and . . .”
    Dex tried to uncurl Fannie’s fingers. Dagnabbit, how could such a little thing hold on so fast? When she shook his brother’s hand, he wrenched himself free and darted into the crowd.
    Rachel rushed toward the road, rubbing her cheek in a masked attempt to swipe away a tear. And then the crowd enveloped her, and she disappeared.
    He stopped. Where were those feathers? He ran toward the road and looked east where she’d have to run to go home. But only two buggies and a wagon traveled there. Where else would she go?
    Fannie jiggled his arm, and he jumped.
    “I know I might be a surprise—”
    “Might?” Dex sputtered.
    “But you don’t have to run. I’m a reasonable girl. We can work something out.” She smiled so prettily that she’d have taken his breath away if he weren’t so doggone sore at her for coming.
    “Yes, we need to talk. Right now.” He tugged on Fannie, giving her no choice but to follow. He had to put out this wildfire before it got any bigger. Five minutes and everything would be under control.
    “Slow down.” She pointed toward the bake sale table. “Why don’t we see what they’re selling? We should take one or two with us.”
    “Are you serious?” He stopped midstride and looked down at her, mouth agape. Had he written a second letter proposing marriage and somehow plumb forgot? Did this woman think that simply showing up gave her the right to claim him?
    She fluttered her eyes. “Pretty please.”
    He straightened and scanned the crowd for Everett. He had to be pulling one over on him. But Everett had disappeared. Dex stared back at the little woman beside him, the weight of her arm pulling him down. Was he dreaming?
    “I can cook a mean apple fritter and a rich pecan pie, but not until we get settled and set up my cook stove.”
    He’d had nightmares less bloodcurdling than this.
    “So why not put some money toward whatever you’re raising money for—”
    “No.” He sliced his hand through the air, and she flinched. He groaned. He wasn’t going to hit her no matter how stress-relieving strangling the pretty canary might seem at the moment. “Come on.” Though they’d moved away from where she’d first accosted him, a few in the crowd still eyed them. He escorted her farther down the road to a weathered stump on the outskirts of the fairgrounds. “Please have a seat, Miss Pratt.”
    Her sunshiny face looked a little less bright, but her smile hadn’t budged.
    He worked to swipe what must be a face-disfiguring scowl off his