It was a big bed, a roomy king with a high ceiling above and a fan lazily stirring the air. The sheets were soft, the pillows abundant, and everything was neat and earthy and warm. She was safe, cared for, provided for—and all of it on Josh’s dime. He cooked and cleaned. He refused to take money for groceries or rent. He insisted she sleep in his bed while he bunked on the couch. All of that, and he hadn’t asked her for as much as a kiss, leaving her to remember the feel of his body, the touch of his mouth and his hands. The words he’d spoken. Over and over, his words. I’m not going to rush the very sweet pleasure of loving you. With all he’d done for her, she wasn’t going to press the point. And maybe he was right. She hadn’t exactly been at her best since him telling her he wanted to see her. The last thing she wanted was to make a mistake she would never be able to fix. He was a good friend. She didn’t want to lose that. That didn’t mean she had to be patient while waiting.
