Free Mountain Mystic by Debra Dixon Page B

chance. She didn’t trust him because she didn’t know who he was; he could show her. She was warm, caring, intelligent, and nursing a bruised heart. She didn’t want anything from him except friendship; well, that was a lot less than people usually expected of him. She was willing to be friends, but not lovers.
    Joshua smiled. He could work with that.
    Finally, the cabin felt like home. Victoria surveyed her efforts of the past two weeks. A chenille bedspreadwith a white background and climbing-rose floral design perked up the bedroom area. New throws which picked up the mauve and green of the bedspread covered the armchair and couch. The kitchen table had a plastic coaster under one leg to stabilize it, but Victoria didn’t think it was noticeable.
    Her pride and joy, however, was the new phone on the wrought iron bedside table. She’d waited what seemed like forever to have the lines run to the cabin, and she was itching to try it out.
    “Who can I call?” she asked the empty cabin.
    She didn’t want to call home and have her mother ask her yet again if she was really happy. That left friends, but she didn’t have any friends. At least not within this area code. She had patients and colleagues, but no real friends yet.
    Except Joshua.
Over the past couple of weeks, because of her busy appointment schedule, Victoria had tried to keep her thoughts about Joshua to a minimum. Except her thoughts weren’t
friendly.
They went way beyond friendship. They went way beyond thoughts. Technically, they were daydreams. But he was still the only friend she had.
    Giving in, she picked up the phone and dialed. After four rings he answered.
    “Hello.” His voice was rough and hoarse, as though she’d woken him from a nap. She could imagine him—shirtless, of course—grabbing the phone off the end table and pushing up to a sitting position on that long couch of his. Then he’d use his fingers to comb his hair out of his eyes.
    “Hi,” she said a little shakily, wondering what he’d do if he knew her thoughts. He’d made it abundantly clear that the only obstacle between them and an affair was her insistence that they were friends.
    “Hi, yourself,” he said, his voice snapping to attention. “Did we have plans?”
    Victoria smiled and twirled the phone cord around her index finger. She could get used to the concern in his voice. It made her feel like she belonged. “No plans. The phone’s all hooked up. I had to call somebody.”
    “Then I’m flattered it was my body you called.”
    She could feel the smile all the way through the phone. His voice did unbelievable things to her bones, and her reaction got worse every time she was around him. “Thanks for asking the crew to run my line on Saturday so I didn’t have to cancel any appointments.”
    “I guess you owe me one.”
    “I guess I do.” Victoria lay back on the bed. “I owe you several.”
    “What would you say if I told you that you could wipe the slate clean?”
    “I’m all for that. What do I have to do? Rob the bank in Bodewell? Scrub your bathroom with my toothbrush?”
    “Go to a dance with me.” His voice reverberated through her as he said, “Tonight.”

FIVE
    Victoria sat up, one leg sliding off the bed and resting on the floor. “Tonight?”
    “Yes, tonight. It’s nothing fancy.”
    “But—”
    “But nothing,” Joshua interrupted. “It’s an annual fund-raiser for the academic scholarship fund. What’s the problem with a couple of friends showing up at the Harvest Dance together and having a good time? So … what do you say?”
    “I thought you didn’t like crowds,” Victoria asked, scrambling for time.
A dance with Joshua. Bad idea, Victoria.
    “I don’t, but you’ve turned down all of my friendly dinner invitations. I thought maybe a crowd would make you more comfortable.”
    “I don’t know.” She hesitated. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. Dancing? You and me?”
    “It’s the least you can do, Victoria.