His lips hinted at a smile. He shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

She slid her gaze from his. The constellation of freckles on her right knee looked like the Little Dipper—a nearly vertical scoop dumping star stuff across the sky. She raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t mean to burden you with my problems.”

“A friend’s problems are a joyful burden. Sharing them is an honor.”

Tears burned again. “You’re very generous.” Exhaustion descended in a fog. She was too tired even to cry. “I should probably lie down for a while.”

He pulled back her chair and followed her into the living room.

Kicking off her shoes, she collapsed onto the sofa and gathered the afghan in a bundle. Her body yearned for him, but her mind was numb.

“I’ll be outside,” he said.

In a daze, she felt his fingers cup her face and his thumb trace the line of her cheekbone. She opened her eyes though she didn’t remember closing them. He stood over her like a guardian angel. A sensation of absolute security settled upon her. Nestling into throw pillows that smelled of home, she fell asleep in an instant.

She awoke to dusky darkness, rolled onto her back, and stretched. Bleary-eyed, she rose and padded barefoot into the kitchen. With sudden memory of the broken dish, she came up on tiptoes. No need. The floor was spotless. All traces of broken glass and ruined cobbler were gone, and her empty milk glass rested upside down in the dish drainer.

The porch swing creaked.

Following the sound, she discovered him outside, eyes closed, rocking in a slow, steady rhythm. “There you are.” Her voice was barely audible even to herself.

He opened his eyes and turned.

Something in his gaze shifted. The knowledge she refused Richard shimmered silvery between them. An overwhelming desire to slide onto the swing and snuggle close rose within, and she licked dry lips. Was hugging now on the table? The memory of being in his arms liquefied her bones, and she leaned against the doorframe. “Thank you for cleaning the kitchen. What time is it? You should have woken me.”

“You seemed to need sleep.” He tilted his head to one side and studied her face.

His gaze lingered over every freckled feature like his earlier caress. Where did they stand now? She didn’t know, and not knowing was murder. She flushed and stared at her feet. The tops were lightly tanned in tiger stripes from gaps in her sport sandals. Even as her cheeks flamed, she dared to test the boundaries of the new status quo. “Nora and Rebecca will expect you, won’t they?” The question, though light, betrayed the slightest hint of a challenge.

Squinting, he swung his gaze to the cloud-streaked sky. “I imagine so.” He unfolded and stood.