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“But, Brad, I can hardly get into any trouble staying here with you. Surely there’s no need…” she trailed off at his dark look.

“You’re grounded. And you know what will happen if you defy me, don’t you?” He arched a brow.

She swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“And we’ll have to drive back to Sarah Wharton to pick up my bike.” He stood up and picked up her plate, as well as his.

“I can get those,” she said, jumping up.

He turned and gave her a lopsided grin. “Are you sure? I’m not certain I trust you in my kitchen anymore.”

She snatched them away, wanting to prove her usefulness. She would cook and clean for him for the duration of her stay, just like a housewife. The idea cheered her. Playing house with Brad sounded like a delightful game.

She washed the dishes while he cleaned up in the bathroom, and they headed out. He drove her car again, of course. It didn’t bother her, she rather liked sitting beside him, pretending they were on a date. As they drove, they passed a clearing where large tents and colorful carnival banners waved.

Before she remembered to be a sophisticated young lady, she drew in a delighted gasp. “Look! A carnival!”

Brad turned and grinned at her. “Do you like carnivals?”

She nibbled her lip, wondering if she was acting too childish. Giving a nonchalant shrug, she said, “Well, they can be fun, you know, with the right people.”

He laughed, and she suspected he saw through her. “Well, considering you’ve been so naughty, I shouldn’t indulge you, but if you spend the rest of the day studying, then tomorrow I’ll take you after church.”

“Really? You’d take me yourself?” She beamed at him. “Can we go on your motorcycle?”

He looked amused. “We’ll see. You have to behave yourself today, though, got it?”

“I will. I will study all day, I promise.”

He chucked her chin. “That’s my girl.”

“You sound like my father.”

He smirked. “Well, you’ve heard of in loco parentis? I’m in charge of you right now, which means I’m acting in place of your father. You’re welcome to call me Daddy-O.”

She giggled. “Okay, Daddy.” It sounded wrong and right and somewhat naughty to call him that.

He didn’t know what had made him say it—the daddy thing just slipped out—but when the word came out of his lips, a dark thrill lit through him. LuAnn had always been off-limits, her status as sister made her untouchable, which only seemed to make the attraction between them stronger.

True to her word, LuAnn studied all afternoon. She also insisted on making dinner, which consisted of chicken sandwiches, pickles and potato salad. He sat down to eat with her.

“Thank you for making dinner, mouse.”

She beamed. “I plan to earn my keep by cooking and cleaning.”

He shoveled a bite of potato salad into his mouth and began to chew, then froze when his tooth struck a very crunchy potato.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, trying not to laugh.

Brow furrowed, she took a bite. “Oh no,” she groaned. “What did I do wrong?”

He spit the food into his napkin and smirked. “Did you boil the potatoes first?”

She frowned, her face flushing. “You’re supposed to boil them?”

“Yes, mouse.” He chuckled.