Free Anything for You by Jo Ann Ferguson Page A

weren’t going to talk about that.”
    He caught her elbow in his hand and the humor vanished from his eyes. “It’s not as if we did anything criminal.”
    â€œLet’s not start arguing again.” Slowly she pulled away. “I’d like to spend an hour not arguing with you.”
    â€œImpossible.”
    â€œIf you think that, why—” She paused as she saw his smile. She never could guess when he was teasing her. “If you want to avoid quarreling, you should find something to talk about that won’t cause an argument.”
    He drew even with her as she slowly strolled along the river. “All right. What can we talk about? How about home?”
    â€œWhat about home?”
    â€œYour home, my home, whatever.”
    â€œI told you. My home is right here.”
    â€œAnd mine is here, too.”
    â€œReally? You live around here?”
    He grinned. “Not exactly right here. I grew up near Ann Arbor. I’ve been to places where the buildings are fancier or the mountains are higher, but Michigan is home.”
    â€œI know. It’s home for me, too.”
    He paused, curiosity on his face. “That amazes me.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œEvery time you open your mouth, you remind everyone you’re from the South. Why do you stay here?”
    She stuffed her hands into her pockets, smiling. “This is home for me now. I like it better than the hot, sticky summers in Mississippi.”
    â€œWhere do you spend your summers now?”
    Flinging out a hand in a pose she had seen in Harper’s Bazar, she said, “Why, Mr. Lassiter, I summer in Saratoga.”
    â€œAnd rub elbows with the rich?”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œIf you don’t want to tell me the truth, I guess it’s none of my business.”
    â€œI didn’t mean it that way.” Uneasily she looked at the frozen river. A tight band encased her chest, centering around her heart. Other people had asked the same questions, and she had managed to laugh the answers aside. She should have guessed Adam would not be distracted as easily.
    â€œHow did you mean it?”
    â€œAs a joke.”
    He took her hand and brought her to face him. A wry grin was visible beneath his frosted mustache. “That I knew. I just wondered why you never answer a question about anything beyond the cookhouse.”
    â€œMaybe because there’s nothing exciting about my life beyond the cookhouse.”
    â€œNo flirtations? No lovers?”
    She laughed. “Can you imagine an adoring swain who would allow his lady fair to disappear into the north woods for months with a hundred brawny lumberjacks?”
    â€œHow about your folks? What do they think of your job?”
    Gypsy fought to keep her face from revealing her grief. She knew she had failed when he drew her down to sit on a fallen tree.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said quietly as he slanted his crutch across another tree. “That was the wrong question, wasn’t it?”
    â€œNo, it’s all right,” she whispered. “My parents died a few years ago. It still hurts to think about that.”
    â€œA few years ago? About the time you came here?”
    â€œI had no reason not to come here when Mr. Glenmark offered me a job.”
    â€œNo brothers or sisters?”
    â€œOne sister.” She stared down at her skirt and brushed flakes of snow from it. “She’s happily married, and I didn’t want to be the spinster who’s just in everyone’s way.” This was not going at all as she had hoped. Instead of satisfying her curiosity about him, she was answering his questions. Raising her chin, she said, “I have a respectable position. Undoubtedly it would be different if I worked at the Porcelain Feather Saloon.”
    â€œUndoubtedly.”
    Before he could continue, Gypsy asked, “And where do you go when you’re away from Michigan?”
    â€œBesides