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the last grade and shoved the papers across the desk. “Sssss.” She winced with pain.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    She shook her hand and looked at her palm. “I gave myself a splinter.” She looked closer. “I think.”
    â€œLet me see.”
    â€œNo, I’m fine. I can get a needle when I get home.”
    He waved his hand in front of him impatiently. “Stubborn woman, let me have your hand.”
    â€œIt’s not like you can see anything.”
    With a wild swipe, he captured her wrist. “That’s where you’re wrong. My myopia gives me about two inches of clear vision if I hold something in just the right place.” He tugged her up to stand and pulled her hand closer to his nose. “And it just so happens that clear swath is somewhat magnified. I assume you’re the kind of woman to carry a pocketknife?”
    She pulled out her knife and handed it to him. For somereason he grinned. She held her breath, realizing how very close she was to him.
    He flipped open her knife, and his face screwed up in concentration. “You’re also not the kind of woman who’d shriek or tug away from me like my mother does, right?”
    â€œOf course not.” She’d rather die than embarrass herself that way. But anticipating pain wasn’t what was sending her heart to throbbing—rather it was being close enough to see the individual hairs darkening his jawline. Her heart had never flipped like this for a man before.
    She’d evidently not outgrown her schoolgirl infatuation with the handsomest boy in class, but now that they were older, the feelings were quite different.
    Harrison gently squeezed the flesh of her hand. She squirmed—not because he scraped the knife against her skin but rather because his breath tickled her wrist.
    â€œDone.” He ran his thumb across the scratch on her palm and smiled. “Splinter removal—a talent in which you can never outdo me.”
    â€œI thought you told me gloating wasn’t a good thing.” Why rub such a silly skill in her face anyway?
    â€œI was kidding.”
    Sure he was. “Being talented at splinter removal isn’t worth being blind as a newborn pup and unable to shoot worth a nickel.”
    His smile disappeared until his jaw clenched. Then he dropped her hand and stalked away.
    â€œSorry.”
    Harrison ran into a desk and muttered under his breath.
    â€œSeems we are a lot alike, as you said.” Though maybe gloating wasn’t really her downfall, rather speaking without thinking. She hadn’t meant to shove his weakness in his face.
    If she couldn’t stop competing and ridiculing his weaknesses, they’d part as enemies instead of becoming the kind of friends Lydia and Beatrice were.
    Then again, remaining enemies might be a good thing. One did not pine for one’s enemy.

Chapter Five
    â€œMomma?” Charlie placed a warm coffee mug next to the plate of pancakes her mother had barely touched.
    Momma popped out of the pantry with two jars. “Where’s the strawberry preserves?”
    Charlie closed her eyes and stifled a sigh. Tell her the truth and deal with the consequences or deflect her question? She was already running late. Harrison was giving quizzes today and wanted her to keep an eye out for cheating. “I can get some in town this afternoon.”
    â€œGood, because all I can find is blackberry and plum. Your father won’t touch either.”
    Worrying about preserves for her deceased father didn’t make sense, but she wasn’t about to question Momma. “Don’t worry. Daddy’ll be fine without them, but I’ve got to leave. So why don’t you finish your breakfast before it gets cold?”
    Momma’s brow furrowed with a narrow-eyed glare. “Why are you talking to me as if I’m a child?”
    â€œSorry, Momma.” Some days patronizing was necessary to get her to function.