His Yankee Bride by Rose Gordon

him why he'd stayed away so long, but his face had grown hard and he'd refused to answer.
    Pushing the thought from her mind, she walked in the direction of the carriage house. She took a deep breath and called John's name—a little more delicately this time.
    “Yes?” his loud voice called back.
    Carolina took a deep breath. She could do this. He clearly didn't appreciate her efforts, and they seemed not to be working; but if she wanted Bethel's approval of her plan to snag John however she saw fit, she had to do what Bethel asked first. “Would you like to come down and have another glass of water?”
    A loud grunt was his only reply.
    Now, that was a pleasant response. Carolina felt like grunting in aggravation herself. Instead, she walked over to the side of the carriage house she was sure the grunt had emanated and tilted her head up toward the roof where he must be working out of view. “Would you quit acting like a mule and come drink some water?”
    “I'll drink it as soon as you give it to me,” a soft, deep voice said behind her.
    Carolina spun around so fast the jars almost tipped. “John.”
    “That's what they call me.” He flashed a smile. “May I?”
    “Of course. Oh, would you take them both, please?” He frowned at her, but before he could argue, she said, “I'll drink the second one. I just need you to take it off the tray so I can set the tray down.”
    He gave her a queer look but took the two glasses of water, so she could set down the heavy tray. “Thank you for bringing me water,” he said, handing her glass to her.
    “You're welcome.” She took a sip, relishing the way the cool water felt going down her throat. She could only imagine how much John must crave cold water. Lowering her glass, she allowed her eyes to drift down to his broad chest. She might have seen it earlier, but that didn't mean she couldn't look at it again. She cringed on his behalf. Just as she'd warned him, his skin that was once as white as a cloud had a distinctively pink hue to it now, the start of a painful South Carolina sunburn.
    John cleared his throat, stealing her attention from his chest. He lifted his brows at her when she met his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you about earlier—”
    “It's of no account,” she said, flicking her wrist and remembering her promise to Bethel that she wouldn't mention the words marriage or wedding to John again until after he'd proposed to her. Frankly, if not for that promise, she might have demanded he make amends by putting aside his stupid pride and admitting he wanted to marry her.
    A strange look came over John's face, and he dropped his gaze to where his dirty and worn leather boots were kicking at the rocks beneath his feet. “No, Carolina, it is of account,” he said, lifting his head and taking a keen interest in the jar in his hand. “I was frustrated and spoke to you in a way that was most inappropriate. You were kind enough to bring me a drink, and I should have been more thankful. It was most kind of you to bring me another glass this afternoon, but if you don't bring me another, I'd certainly understand.”
    Carolina stared at him as he turned to the side and struggled through a coughing fit that had suddenly developed. Was this an attempt to get her to stop? Since he refused to look at her, she couldn't be sure; but if that was his plan, he was about to learn the definition of persistence. She'd bring him a glass of water every hour with the intent of getting him fired if that's what it'd take for him to stop this nonsense.
    She took a long drink of her water then forced a smile. “As I said, it's of no account.”
    He nodded once then drank what was left in his jar. He handed it back to her and wiped his mouth with the back of his dirty hand. “I must be—” He shrugged. “Well, you already know what I was about to say.”
    Yes, she did already know. She also knew she was one day closer to being done with Bethel's nonsense.
    ***
    Sadly, the second