Can't Hurry Love

"Alright, let's get you settled."

Beth didn't trust herself to speak, so she said nothing.

Being carried injured up a flight of stairs by the world's most gorgeous man was not a situation she felt well-equipped to deal with, so she kept her mouth shut in case she said something stupid.

Anyway, she was still angry. In all of her many, many fantasies about being carried around by Josh, it had never been with a dodgy ankle after a sweaty three-hour hike.

He sat her on the plush grey couch that dominated the room and pulled a lever so her legs were elevated.

"I'm going to get some ice for the swelling and take another look at it," he said matter-of-factly, not even winded from lugging her around.

Clearly their proximity had zero effect on him.

While Josh disappeared into what she assumed was the kitchen, Beth looked around, taking in the bright room, searching for clues about his life before Rocky Valley. There were a couple of photos framed on the fireplace, but she was too far away to really make them out. They seemed to be the only personal touch in the room. Decorated in muted greys and whites, with a flat screen TV her brothers would approve of, the space screamed bachelor pad.

She wondered if he'd decorated it himself or if Beck had rented it to him like this.

Remembering what he'd said about possibly leaving Rocky Valley, her stomach flipped. Would he consider staying? He said he'd miss it if he went and there'd been that edge to his voice. As if he was talking about something other than the town. She couldn't help hoping that he was talking about her, because apparently, she never learned.

"Here we go." He walked back into the room with a tray in his hands and a grin on his face. Setting the tray on the coffee table, he sat beside it, facing her. "How's it feeling?" he asked, lifting her leg by the calf.

She could only pray that he didn't notice the gooseflesh that broke out at his touch.

"It's fine," she croaked. "Honestly, it's not a big deal. I've sprained it a hundred times over the years."

He didn't say anything, just reached over for a towel and spread it out before putting her foot gently back down. He grabbed an ice pack, and she winced slightly when he placed it on the ankle. His eyes shot up and locked with hers, trapping her in his ice-blue gaze.

"It's just cold," she whispered feeling inexplicably nervous.

He narrowed his eyes, watching her closely. "I'm going to leave that on for about twenty minutes. You hungry?"

"Uh-"

"Good. Me too. I'll be right back."

And he was gone before she could even form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.

Only minutes later, he was back again carrying two beers and the biggest bag of chips she'd ever seen.

Beth took the beer then froze solid when he sat, not on the other end of the couch, but right beside her.

Without speaking a word to her, he picked up the remote and switched on the TV then slung an arm over the back of the couch, completely relaxed, totally at ease.

He was acting for all the world as if they were a couple, completely at ease in each other's company. Meanwhile, Beth was afraid to breathe too deeply in case he remembered that they weren't a couple, and that usually he did his best to push her away.

The tension was coming off her in waves. Josh could feel it, and he couldn't blame her, but he still ignored it. He had no idea where his head was at right now. All he knew that was seeing her hurt, even a little, had triggered some unexpected caveman reaction in him, and he wanted her close and taken care of.

What that meant, he didn't want to examine too closely. There was a voice niggling in the back of his mind asking him what the hell he was doing. But he ignored that, too.

He wasn't some randy teenager. He was an adult in complete control of himself. He was a doctor whose job it was to take care of the sick and injured.

The fact that he could smell her shampoo? Irrelevant.

The heat from her body as he sat so close to her? Didn't bother him.

The feeling of rightness he got just from sitting next to her watching TV? Ok, that was slightly problematic, but he could handle it.

He sipped his beer and flicked through the channels until he found a comedy that wouldn't require a lot of attention. For the first few minutes, she sat so still that she could have been a statue. Then he heard the faintest laugh. Twenty minutes later, she was completely relaxed, giggling and chatting, slouching on the cushions as if she belonged there. And the scary thing was that he felt as if she belonged there too. In fact, the longer they sat there, the harder it was for Josh to remember the reasons why he wouldn't just bite the bullet and see where things went with them.

He was surprised by the end credits rolling up on the screen, so lost in thoughts of the woman by his side that he hadn't even seen what was going on.

He felt Beth shift beside him, and he turned to see her removing the now-melted icepack.

"This feels a lot better," she said, looking at her foot while he looked at her. "I might not be able to wear killer heels tonight, but I should be able to walk."

The reminder of the speed dating thing felt like a punch to his gut, and Josh sat forward to examine the swelling, trying to get his emotions in check before he said or did something stupid.

"We should probably keep you off it for a while longer," he said.

She laughed, and his gut clenched. What was that he'd been thinking about having control of himself? Well, he'd been wrong.

"It's fine, Josh. You said twenty minutes-it's been almost two hours."

"If you rush it, you'll be off it for longer," he insisted. He felt her eyes on him, so he lifted his own to see her frowning.

"Are you usually this dramatic with your patients?" she asked, but her smile took any sting out of her words.

He should be casual and jokey like her, but all of a sudden, he found he couldn't be. "Only the ones I care this much about," he said softly.

His words were like a jolt of electricity, igniting the atmosphere.

She looked confused, and he hated that he kept putting both of them into these situations, but just like every other time, he couldn't help himself. Only now, he couldn't for the life of him remember all his valid reasons for keeping her at arm's length.

"Well, thanks for your concern..." He assumed she was striving for nonchalant, but her voice shook, and it was enough to let him know that it was still there for her - that charge between them, that magnetism that he'd never found with another person. "...but I have to get changed. I can't wear shorts to a date. And I especially can't wear them to multiple dates."

"Beth, you could wear a burlap sack, and every man in there would still want you." He watched, fascinated, as her cheeks turned pink, and he couldn't resist reaching out to run his knuckles over the soft skin. He was playing with fire, Josh knew. A fire that he understood would burn out of control if he let it.

"Good to know," she quipped. "But I'd still like to make a good impression."

"Why?" he scoffed. "None of them are good enough for you."

"Oh? Then who is?"

Me.

He wanted to say that, and he knew that she wanted him to say it. But it would be a lie. He was so messed up he wasn't good enough for anyone right now.

"Nobody," he answered finally. Honestly.

Her eyes flashed with-something. Hurt?

Disappointment? He couldn't tell.

She moved to get off the couch and even though he should let her, Josh found himself reaching out to stop her movements. "I don't want you to go speed dating," he said quietly. It wasn't enough. There was so much that he could say. That he should say. But maybe the truth of what he was feeling was stamped in his expression, because the confusion and frustration slowly left her face until she looked just as she had a year ago when he'd started this thing between them. "I don't want to go speed dating."

Seven simple words, but he felt like they opened the floodgates. He reached out lifted Beth, and planted her in his lap. Then he finally did what he'd been dying to do every second that he'd spent with her. He kissed her with all he was feeling and everything he was too scared to say.