The Bootlegger's Daughter. Lauri Robinson

to touch anything.” Ty lifted the pad and carefully set it on the corner of her desk. Spinning back around, he grasped one of her wrists.

      She tried to pull away, but his hold was too firm.

      “I’ll just take this glove off, you can do the other one,” he said, already peeling the cuff over her wrist. “Do you always wear gloves this early in the morning?”

      Norma Rose didn’t answer. It was none of his business when she wore gloves. She managed to snatch her hand away before he pulled the glove all the way over her fingers. His nearness, and touch, had her heart beating inside her throat.

      After peeling off both gloves, she held them carefully, not wanting to get any ink on her dress. Her hands were now blue, covering the red line of scars across her knuckles from her days of bleaching linens.

      “We can talk later,” Ty said, stepping away from her desk. “It’s obvious you need to go and wash.”

      She definitely wanted to go, but curiosity made her ask, “Talk about what?”

      “Your father wants me to go over a few things with you,” he answered, on his way to the door.

      “What things?”