Free Breath of Spring by Charlotte Hubbard

and I’ve gotten ya mixed up in—”
    “I came to check on things,” Adam reminded her quietly. “Seems like a small favor, asking Luke to fetch your sewing machine so you and Nellie can—”
    “And when I saw that—that awful mess still on the table—”
    When Annie Mae crumpled and lurched forward, there was nothing for Adam to do but catch her . . . wrap his arms around her, even as he sensed he was getting in deeper than he wanted to. She felt slender and firm, and she was more distraught than he’d ever seen her. As he lightly rubbed her shaking back, her tears wet his neck. What could he say to help this situation without getting himself too entangled? “That moldy food’s a magnet for animals,” he murmured. “So how about if we get it out of here and wash those nasty dishes?”
    Annie Mae raised her head, blinking at him. “You’d help me with that?”
    “Sure I would. I don’t know what your dat was thinking, leaving that food to rot—but it doesn’t matter now,” he added quickly when he saw her lips quivering again. “Won’t take us long to clean it up. Then I’ll get my wagon, and load your sewing machine into it, and take you back to your apartment. Okay?”
    A smile flitted across Annie Mae’s face even though she wasn’t yet finished crying. “That would be ever so nice of ya.”
    Adam eased away from her. “You’d help me if I was in a bind, I’m pretty sure.”
    “ Jah. Jah, I would.” With a loud sniffle, Annie Mae straightened to her full height. “I’ll fetch the lantern. There’s a trash barrel in the mudroom—”
    “I’ll go get it. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
    Adam went into the small room off to the side of the door he’d come in. Why had he assured Annie Mae that this crisis was resolved? Instinct told him that cleaning up the messy table and then taking her home with her sewing machine wasn’t nearly as simple as he’d made it out to be . . . not the way his heart was thumping, and the way he noticed her clean scent lingering on his jacket. He hadn’t held a girl in years—hadn’t dated much after his mamm died—and all manner of red flags were flapping in his mind.
    Oh, get real. What else were you supposed to do after Hooley gave her such a hard time? She’s the girl next door. More like a sister than . . .
    When he returned to the kitchen with the trash barrel, Annie Mae was setting the lantern on the counter alongside the sink, where its glow illuminated the table as well. “I’m wonderin’ how long the propane’ll hold out so the pipes won’t freeze,” she murmured as she began running dishwater.
    “I’ll check your outside tank gauge tomorrow, in the daylight,” Adam replied. “And I’ll set some mousetraps. No sense in letting the critters overrun this place until—”
    “ Denki so much, Adam.”
    He set the trash barrel beside the table and looked over at her. Big mistake. With the lantern glow surrounding her like a halo and the steam rising in the sink behind her, Annie Mae could well be somebody’s wife— his wife—gazing at him with those big blue eyes and that grateful expression on her face. She looked ready to hug him again, so Adam picked up the platter with the disgustingly moldy chicken on it.
    “You’re welcome,” he murmured as he dumped it in the barrel. Then he gagged and coughed. “Maybe you’d better stay there at the sink until I get this food off the plates, because it’s kicking up a real stink now that I’m messing with it.”
    “I’ll pick up the fabric and thread I dropped when ya scared me half to death. But I really was glad to see ya, Adam,” she added quickly as she headed for the front room. “I have no idea what’s makin’ Luke so snippy—not that you’d care about that.”
    But he did care. He’d gotten more riled about Hooley’s tone than he wanted to admit, so it was just as well that Annie Mae was leaving the kitchen . . . just as well that he was dealing with bowls of putrid