What part of ‘Cage is my fiancé,’ don’t you get, Sue Ellen?”
Hunkered over the spilled basket and scattered spools of thread, Cage’s head snapped up at the sound of Thea’s voice. Sue Ellen blanched. Hands fisted, Thea glared down at them.
Cage bolted upright. “I—I didn’t see you there, Thea.”
Thea crossed her arms. “Obviously.”
He had—obviously and unfortunately—walked into the middle of something at the Wendover house.
Sue Ellen swallowed. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“You ought to try taking a good look around you, Sue Ellen Oberheimer and claim the man who—daft though he be—seems to think the sun and the moon set with you.” Thea’s lip curled. “And with the pies you bake.”
Cage had the uncomfortable feeling he was in over his head. As if he wasn’t always in over his head when it came to Theadosia Holland.
He cleared his throat in an attempt to clear the air. “I came here to ask you, Thea, what time I should take you to the dance.”
That met with stony silence.
He moistened his lips. “Sue Ellen needed my help. She—”
“I’m sure Sue Ellen did.” The look Thea directed at him could have singed the wings off a butterfly.
Before he could think of a suitable reply, Thea stalked out of the Wendover house and slammed the door behind her. Leaving Cage gaping.
Abandoning Sue Ellen and the spools of thread, Cage went after Thea. She crossed Main and charged down the boardwalk. He had to trot to keep pace with her. She ignored him.
Cage followed her to the schoolhouse. He’d only just put his foot across the threshold when she tried shutting the door in his face. He leaped backward.
“Hey! You almost—”
“Which is just too bad, you womanizing …” Gritting her teeth, she whipped around and marched toward the front of the classroom.
Cage edged inside. “If you’d just listen …”
She hefted a book off her desk, and then appeared to reconsider. She lay the book down on the desk once more. And instead, seized a piece of chalk.
“Thea, let me—”
She hurled the chalk across the room.
He ducked as the chalk exploded against the wall behind him. He straightened. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were acting like a jealous, lovesick—”
She stomped toward the woodpile beside the stove.
“Okay … okay.” He held up his hand as she lifted a chunk of wood. “Simmer down. It was nothing, I tell you.”
“Can’t stay away from the women can you, Cage?” Her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “Flirting is like breathing to you, isn’t it? You’re going to ruin everything we’ve done this week.”
“I wasn’t flirting. The thread rolled out. I was helping her—”
“More like she was helping herself to you.”
“I’d never cheat on the woman I love. I’m not that kind of man.”
Confusion, doubt, and hurt flickered in her brown eyes. “The woman you love?”
He fought the overwhelming desire to cradle Thea in the circle of his arms. They stared at each other for a long moment. Just once … He took a quick intake of breath. Just once he wished …
Chin quivering, she knotted her fingers in the folds of her skirt. “I hate you, Cage Cooper.” She tore her gaze away.
He exhaled. He knew she did not hate him. “It’s wrong to hate anyone, Theadosia.”
Cage smirked. “Especially your beloved fiancé.”
“Then I strongly dislike you, Cage Cooper,” she growled.
He leaned his shoulder against the door frame, ankles crossed. “Have I told you how I love it when you sweet-talk me, Sugar Plum?”
She flung out her hands. “It’s all talk with you, isn’t it?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
She sniffed. “All talk, no action.”
He stood up straight. “Plenty of action here, I promise you.” He thumped his fist against his chest.
She lifted her chin. “What about that prize you bragged about claiming? What happened to that?”
“Well, I—”
“Don’t you think we ought to practice making it seem real?”
His mouth fell open. “What?”
“B–before the dance tomorrow night,” she stammered. “To make it look authentic.”
“Of all the crazy—” He propped his hands on his hips. “Is this one of those newfangled suffragette notions of yours, Theadosia Holland?” He shook his head. “This is what comes from going to the big city.”
He shifted. “Are you asking me …?” He gulped. “Are you asking me to kiss you, Thea?”
“I—I …” Panic streaked across her face. “Never mind.” She turned to flee.
But she’d not taken two steps before he came after her. And closed the distance between them.
Gripping her shoulders, he angled Thea to face him. The flush, which had started beneath her shirtwaist collar, mounted to her cheeks. New American Woman or not, Thea could not imagine what had come over her.
Thea’s eyes lifted to meet his.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You might be right about making it look real.” His blue eyes beckoned and went opaque.
She put a hand to the cameo at her starched lace collar. “I—”
Cage crushed her tight against his chest. And as if her arms had taken on a life of their own, she found her hands cupped around the back of his neck. He lowered his head.
Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. His mouth moved closer. His breath brushed across her cheek.
Thea’s heart hammered. She couldn’t breathe. She thought she might faint. Then he kissed her. Thoroughly. Deliciously.
She decided breathing might be overrated. And she kissed him back. Thoroughly. Deliciously.
After a long moment, he pulled back. “’Course I’m not saying every newfangled suffragette notion is all bad.” He raked a hand through his hair.
She fell against the corner of her desk. Glad for its support. Her knees wobbled beneath her skirt.
He grinned that rakish, roguish grin of his. “What kind of modern American man would I be to stand in the way of progress?”
She liked how he looked at her. She ran her gaze over the angular line of his jaw. She liked how the short ends of his hair curled on the nape of his neck—the feel of his hair through her fingers. Her cheeks burned with the remembrance.
“That real enough for you, darlin’?” He traced his finger along the pattern of her features before he stepped away. “And by the way, Thea?”
She held on to the desk for support. “Y–yes, Cage?”
He gave her a crooked grin. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”