A Husband of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #2)(26)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Josh?” Rebecca asked, standing in the hallway, blinking. It looked as though she wasn’t wearing anything except an oversized T-shirt. But she could’ve been standing there stark naked; he was too sick to care.

“What are you doing?” she asked when her eyes adjusted and she saw him sitting on the floor. “Why’s the door open?”

“My truck’s gone.”

“No, I just moved it. It’s at the trailer park. Is something else wrong?”

“Tell me you didn’t do this to me,” he said.

She hurried forward and shut the door. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sick.”

“In what way?”

It took a moment to catch his breath. “Chills. Aches. My head feels like it’s going to explode. And you might want to bring me a pan.”

“Oh, it’s just the flu,” she said. “My nephew has it right now.”

“Just the flu?” he mumbled. “You gotta take me home.”

“I can’t take you home when you’re this sick. Your dad said your brother’s out of town. There won’t be anyone to look after you.”

“Then…” He tried to think of a good alternative. “I guess you can take me to my parents’ house.”

“I can’t do that, either,” she said. “They’re going to think what you did—that I did this to you. And even if I’m able to convince them I’m not to blame, they’re going to wonder why you were with me in the middle of the night. It’s nearly three o’clock.”

Despite the flu, what she said made sense. His mother wouldn’t be particularly happy to think he’d been spending the night with Rebecca. Come to think of it, neither would Mary.

“Here,” she said. “I know what to do. We’ll get you fixed up.”

Josh thought it was a sad day when he had to rely on Rebecca Wells to take care of him. “That’s okay. I’m not sure I trust you that much.”

“Oh, quit being such a baby,” she said, scowling at him. “I promise you’ll like what I’m going to do.”

Two days earlier, before the truce, he would’ve made it out of her house if he’d had to crawl. But he didn’t want to miss anything he might like—especially since she seemed so definite about it. And she’d done a good job on his hair….

“Just get me warm,” he said.

“I can do better than that. Come on.” She was next to him then, helping him stand, and the softness and warmth of her body felt so good he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let her go.

She guided him through the living room, down a short hall and into her bedroom, which was the only room he hadn’t visited while they were moving her furniture. The blinds were pulled, so he could scarcely see it even now. But he thought he could identify the outline of a double bed, a nightstand, a dresser and something low and square—a steamer trunk?—off to one side. He couldn’t tell whether the room was decorated in the same offbeat way as the rest of the house. But he knew one thing: it smelled like heaven.

“First let’s get your boots off,” she said as he sank gratefully onto her bed.

She bent down and removed his boots. He heard them clunk against the wall as she tossed them out of the way. Then she pulled off his shirt.

“Okay, now take off your jeans and crawl under the covers,” she said.

He stared up at her. “Take off my jeans? You’re kidding, right?”

“Do you want to feel better or not?”

She left the room, obviously bent on some errand, and he tried to think clearly enough to decide what to do. He already felt pretty vulnerable. He wasn’t sure he wanted to make himself any more vulnerable by sacrificing what remained of his clothes.

“You haven’t moved,” she said when she came back into the room carrying a pan in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“I think I’m better off with my pants on. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” she asked.

“In case you’re going to throw them outside and leave me to find my way home.”

She smiled. “Would I do something like that?”

“There was definitely a time when you would’ve done exactly that.”

She handed him a couple of Tylenol and put the pan within easy reach. “Then play it safe,” she said.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep the pills down, but he swallowed them anyway and curled up on the bed. “You got a hot water bottle?”

“Here, cover up at least,” she said, helping him get beneath the blankets. “I’ve got a heating pad and a few other things. Just wait, okay?”

She lit a couple of candles on the nightstand, and he recognized the slightly floral scent as the one that had been lingering in her room. Then she turned on some low, wordless music, and went to her closet. A few minutes later, he heard her by the bed again and opened his eyes to see her rummaging through a square case. She withdrew what looked like a big bottle of hand lotion, wrapped the heating pad around it and plugged the cord in at the wall.

“I thought that heating pad was for me,” he complained, shivering.

“You’ll be warm in a minute.”

He tried to be patient. The candles, the music and the heating pad promised good things. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to give you a massage. It’ll help your body rid itself of the toxins that are making you sick and ease the aching in your muscles.”

Years ago Josh had heard something about Rebecca attending Carlson’s School of Massage Therapy in Iowa. She’d been there part of the time he was attending the U of U. But when he graduated and returned home, she’d already changed her focus to hair care.

She disappeared into her closet again. When she emerged, she carried a big vinyl-covered headrest, which she positioned on the bed beside him.

“Put your face in the opening,” she told him as she situated the heating pad between his chest and the mattress.

He did as she said and immediately felt the wonderful heat from the pad seeping through his skin. He was about to tell her to pull up the covers and just let him sleep. He felt too miserable to be around anyone. But then she poured warm oil on his back and began to rub, and he knew she was right—this would help. As the candles scented the air and the music played softly in the background, her fingers seemed to find every sore spot on his back. Gently yet firmly, she worked each muscle. She moved up his spine to his neck and then massaged his head, soothing away his aches and pains until he scarcely felt them anymore. Finally, his eyelids lowered, blocking out the dim light, and he drifted off to sleep.