Dana sat, inviting Little Guy to come closer, while she cradled the four pounds of fur she’d just acquired.
“Little Guy, this is Lindy Lu,” she said gently, as though speaking with a small child.
“You expect him to understand English?”
“No, well, some words, yeah, but mostly I expect him to react to the tone of my voice. I want him as calm as possible so he doesn’t scare her.”
Why it was important to her that Lindy Lu and Little Guy got along, she didn’t know. Probably because she felt a sense of ownership with both dogs. Cared about them both.
“You’ve forgiven me, then?”
Lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, watching the puppies circle each other, Josh spoke to her almost as gently as she’d spoken to the dogs.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said, wishing they could pretend the disaster between them had never happened.
Josh’s gaze collided with hers. And held on. He studied her so long her throat got dry.
“Okay. So we’re good?” she asked.
“That’s up to you.”
“Why is it up to me?”
“Because you got the raw end of the deal.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Let’s see, I’ve known you a little more than a week and you’ve cooked, advised and babysat for me. What have I done for you?”
“Made me laugh.” His honesty drew the response from her before she had a chance to think about what she was saying. Sitting on the floor with him, their faces only a foot or so apart, Dana felt the weekend of hurt feelings fade away. “I’ve never spent time with someone like you, Josh.”
She stopped. If he didn’t see what a nerd she was, she sure as hell wasn’t going to point the fact out to him.
Or, maybe he did and didn’t care.
He could just be sparing her feelings.
He was staring at her. Which left her words hanging between them, making her uncomfortable.
Completely out of character, Little Guy was quietly watching Lindy Lu, creeping up on her one paw at a time. In return, the outgoing little pup batted at the air with her front paw.
“You don’t bore me,” Dana said, because someone had to say something to break the silence. Josh’s eyebrow quirked in that way that made her stomach dance. “I know that’s probably a horrible thing to say, but I get bored easily and I don’t with you.”
She was making it worse, not better. “If it would make you feel any better, I could start asking you for favors.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” Other than to make love to her again, which she definitely was not going to ask. She wanted him to be so hot for her he couldn’t control himself around her. To need her as badly as she’d imagined he had the other night.
What she didn’t want was charity. Of any kind.
“See, that’s what I mean.”
“You could carve the turkey for me on Thanksgiving. I hate carving the turkey.” Jerome had already offered. She hadn’t responded to him one way or the other. And then it hit her...
“I know what you could do,” she said, the idea growing on her.
“You name it.”
He wanted to be friends with her. If Dana hadn’t been flying so high at the realization, she’d have warned herself to take things in stride.
She told him about Jerome. About his family and friends far away in Missouri, and his financial situation. About letting him do his laundry at her place.
“I’m afraid he’s developing...an attachment to me,” she told Josh. It was something she’d been trying, with increasing difficulty, not to worry about. “He’s coming over for Thanksgiving and I’ve suggested several times that he bring a friend or a date, but he keeps saying there’s no one. He’s been stopping by and calling more and more often lately, and I’m... I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but he’s a kid! And I know, if he is feeling things like I’m pretty sure he is, it’s just because he’s homesick and I probably remind him of his mother or something, you know a transference thing, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings and...”
She was rambling again. What if Josh turned her down?
Burning with humiliation, she stopped talking.
“You want me to pretend that you and I have a thing...to let him down lightly?”
He didn’t sound horrified. And wasn’t laughing.
“I was actually just thinking that if I could introduce you to him, say, Tuesday when he’s coming over for me to iron his shirt again before his next job interview...”
“You iron his shirts?”
“He scorched the first one trying to do it himself. He’s only got one more and he can’t even afford to do his laundry right now, let alone buy a new dress shirt. He’s the oldest in his family and I get the idea that his family is sacrificing a ton so that he can get a Montford education. He’s really smart.”