Machelle crept into the therapy room quietly for her afternoon session. She peered around the room, looking cautiously to make sure Joe and Randy weren't lurking about. When a hand gently touched her shoulder, she jumped. Her trainer apologized for surprising her and asked what she had been looking for. "Or is it a who?" Shaking the trainer off, Machelle picked up the huge band and began the exercise that she had been doing that morning. She had to stretch the band as far apart as she could in a variety of directions and angles to help regain range and motion in her shoulder. "You have your intensity and focus back." The trainer complemented." That was true. Joe wasn't in the room. Randy wasn't causing a disturbance. Machelle was truly focused.

When the session was over, Machelle did her cool-down laps and headed for her room to shower. She knew that three weeks after the wreck, two weeks into rehab, she was making good physical progress. Emotional and mental recovery would take longer. Don't those wounds always take the longest to heal? Machelle stood under the warm flow of water and meditated for several minutes. She searched for calm. Then she got out and dried off ready to lie down and relax, alone for the night.

The sun set outside her window. Machelle watched it from her bed, propped up on her pillows. Her eyes grew heavy as the sky turned from a beautiful shade of purple to a fiery reddish orange. Just as she was drifting off, a dark shadow appeared at her window. Machelle blinked her eyes open. She looked at the man peering into her window, his gray eyes meeting hers. "Open the door, Machelle."

She sleepily denied him. "I'm too tired."

"You skipped dinner. You skipped lunch, too. Open the damn door or I will kick the fucking thing in." Machelle flung her arm across her eyes. "Three." He moved away from the window. "Two." She heard him near the door. Damn fool is actually gonna try it with that hernia thingie. Damn idiot. She jumped up and ran to the door. "One." She yanked the door open. "Hi, Baby Girl." Joe was leaning against the door, one arm casually propped over his head. "I knew you wouldn't let me hurt myself." Machelle bit back a frustrated squeal as she turned and headed back to bed. Joe caught her elbow. "Would it be better if I told you I brought you dinner?" This drew a soft 'harrumph' sound, but no discernable answer as she pulled her arm away and sat on her bed. "I get it. I came on too strong. We are friends."

Machelle sighed heavily. "No, Joe, you don't get it. You can't get it because I don't understand it myself." Joe came over and sat down across from her, placing the food between them.

He reached over and took her hands in his large ones. Speaking softly, he said, "We've been so close over the last few weeks. I don't want to screw that up. We can spend some time talking tonight because I know you have a lot going on. Right now I just want to see you eat. I want to know that you are nourished and healthy." He ran his thumbs over the backs of her hands before releasing them and opening the bags of food. He opened a styrofoam tray with parmesan shrimp pasta, a second tray with a juicy thick steak, and a third container with cheddar bay biscuits.

"This didn't come from the cafeteria." Machelle murmured.

"Nah. I kinda made a call and had it delivered. This was better than what they were serving."

"Why would you go through the trouble of…Never mind." Machelle shook her head. "Don't go there."

"Let's." Joe smirked. "By all means, let's walk through the door you opened." Machelle threw up her hands and snatched the steak and biscuits. "That was…Never mind. Enjoy." Joe took the shrimp and scooted closer, making sure their knees touched. "We are similar, compatible in so many ways. It is easy for us to talk to each other. We work well together and work out well together. We just seem to match well, so well together. I think we should see where this goes." His deep voice seemed to slide over Machelle's skin like fine silk.

"You don't know me, Joe. Really, really know me." She focused on cutting the steak into bite-sized pieces and not on the fine specimen of man across from her.

"I know you like to work out to music with a beat. You don't care what genre. You like the corner piece of cake with all the frosting but you like the middle piece of brownie. I haven't figured that one out yet. You avoid nuts. You like Lays potato chips and Kettle Korn popcorn. Your favorite place to read is curled under that tree" he pointed out the window at the tree "on the bench with pillows and your Kindle. You can sit there for hours, until your water bottle is empty. I have been seriously tempted to switch my water bottle for yours and see how long you would stay there."

"My bladder would burst." Machelle murmured.

"That was my fear." Joe reached over to caress her cheek. "I wondered if I slid in behind you and leaned you back against my chest if you would be just as comfortable. If you would read aloud to me." She smiled softly as she shook her head no. "Why not? You don't like to read aloud? Or are you reading naughty things?" A blush started creeping up her neck. "That's it! You are reading dirty books! Now I have to get you to read aloud to me!" he said with a huge grin on his face. "Not out under the tree, of course. We'll read in here, together. The things you make me think of, woman. The fantasies…" Joe trailed off.

Machelle chewed hard and closed her eyes. Joe now had her dreaming of leaning back in the bed and reading from her latest book to him. Could she do it? She recalled a portion of the last chapter she read:

He froze. Then he lost it. All control. Denise found herself being stripped of her clothing,

pieces flying everywhere. She was lifted up, her legs were once again wrapped around

his waist, and the room was spinning. Her back met the mattress in the middle of the bed

as he slid into her. She arched and screamed. Her heels dug into his thighs. She rocked

up unable to contain the orgasm that powered through her as soon as they joined. Then

she felt him thrust. Oh, Lord she felt him. She went higher and higher. His fingers threaded

through hers. She was pinned to the bed.

A blush flushed her face. She opened her eyes and murmured, "Um, yeah. That ain't going to happen. Not in this lifetime."

"With that look on your face…Baby Girl…" Joe's voice had dropped an octave and rumbled deep within his chest. He slid his hand to the back of her neck.

She whispered, "Joe…"

He pushed the food to the side and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I know. I know. Not too fast. It's just so hard." He chuckled. "Ironically in more ways than one."

"Joe." Her voice took a warning tone.

"I know, crossing a line." he muttered, drawing in and releasing a deep breath. "Part of me wants to take my time, but the other part of me feels like I have to push this because I saw Randy. I know he wants you back." Joe's head dropped. Machelle almost had to strain to hear him, he spoke so softly. "Maybe I lost her to him, but we were dysfunctional anyway. You and I are different, we seem so…right. We deserve the chance. I just want the chance…"

Machelle raised her hands to run her fingers through his hair and lift his head. "A chance. Not like actually…"

"Too soon, I agree." Joe said. "Not a rebound." He slid his hands into her hair.

As Joe leaned forward Machelle whispered, "Kissing is too fast." Joe rested his forehead against hers as they both sighed. "We have to find an appropriate pace that we can both handle."

"How about I lean against your headboard and you lean against me? We can eat dinner together." he suggested.

"You want me to eat dinner in your arms?" she asked. Joe pulled back fractionally and looked at her. "No funny business?" He shook his head. She gave a brief nod and he shifted quickly. Before Machelle could rethink her decision, Joe was propped up against the headboard and she was positioned flush to his side, under his arm. The food was in their laps, and Joe had a forkful of shrimp pasta pressed to her lips. With a tiny smile, she opened her mouth and let him feed her the bite.