Clearly, he remembered his way around the place from his last visit. He found the dish pan they used to wash out their mugs, filled it with water, then brought it to where she sat.
“This is warm,” he told her, “but not hot enough to burn you.” He guided her feet into the water.
“I don’t feel much of anything yet.”
“You will.” Rising, he went to the counter and started a pot of coffee. The redolent smell filled the apartment with a sense of comfort and humble domesticity. With the coffee percolating behind him, he returned to her and knelt. “It doesn’t look like you sprained your ankle. You must have come down on it wrong. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”
Lauren agreed with his assessment. There was only a little swelling, and no bruising that she could tell yet. “I feel pretty stupid,” she admitted. “I hate for you to have to go to all this trouble.”
“It’s no trouble,” he said. “Do you mind if I—” He glanced up at her. “May I touch you? Your feet and ankles. No funny business, I promise.” He held his palms up.
Her face heating, she nodded, wondering when her nerves would fire back to life beneath his touch.
Joe dipped his hands in the water and rubbed her feet and toes before massaging her ankles, too. He cupped water and laved it over her cold shins and calves, first on one leg, then the other.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For helping me.”
He shrugged. “Ivy and Elsa would have if I hadn’t already been there.”
“You make it sound as though you’re not necessary. But you are necessary. To me. And not just for this.”
His hands stilled on her ankles, and he looked up at her. While she waited for his voice to surface, unsaid words seemed to ripple between them.
Then, as if remembering himself, Joe drew back from the water, went to the counter, and poured a mug of coffee. Coming back, he pressed it into her hands. “That should warm you a bit, inside and out.”
Lauren wouldn’t admit how warm she already felt. “Don’t you want some?”
“Later.” Bending a knee at the hearth, he stacked kindling among the wood. “Any better yet?”
She wiggled her toes. “Getting there.”
“Good.” He lit the fire and blew on the small flames.
Sipping her coffee, she tried to relax, but every sense still in operation seemed to be on high alert. The coffee smelled richer, the sofa cushions felt softer. Moments passed with the snap and pop of the growing fire the only sound between them.
“Oh.” Lauren suddenly felt as though the water was far too hot forher skin. “That’s enough, I think. I know the water is barely above lukewarm, but it feels like it’s burning me.” Setting the mug on the table beside her, she lifted her feet out of the water.
Kneeling again, Joe moved the basin aside, and spread a towel over his lap. She lowered both feet onto it, and he dried them.
“I didn’t understand what you meant at first,” she said. “When you said you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”
“So I gathered. Words are not my strong suit.”
His actions, however, spoke volumes.
Lauren leaned down and pulled her stockings back on, then patted the sofa cushion.
Joe sat with her, and she angled sideways to face him. She stretched out her legs across his lap, mostly to relieve the pressure from her ankle.
Mostly.
Pulling a blanket from the back of the sofa, Joe carefully tucked it around her legs and placed one warm hand to the bottoms of her feet. His other arm draped the back of the couch behind her. “I would have explained, but you were busy falling into the water.” He twirled a wayward lock of her hair around one finger and let it go.
She felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “Try again?”
Joe looked away, as though measuring his next words. When he turned back to her, his eyes were an intense green, the color of new grass in the spring. “Ever since I met you, I wanted to be your friend. Then, when we weren’t kids any longer, I wasn’t satisfied with that. I wanted more. But I wasn’t going to push. Your aunt and uncle clearly didn’t approve of me, and you had big plans. You traveled abroad, you went to school. I joined the force. We moved on, right?”
“I suppose we did.” The wedge in Lauren’s throat grew sharp. “I’ve missed you, Joe.”
