“Fuck!” he roared as more pain hit his side and leg, burning up and down his nerves like a flash fire.
“Yeah, I know. Just bear with me a few seconds. Breathe.”
He sucked in a huge lungful of air and blew it out. Then did it again. And again.
On the fifth or sixth round, the pain began to release. He inhaled deeper and grew lightheaded as he relaxed, resting his forehead against the cold glass. Each breath coated the surface with a blast of steam. He almost forgot about the woman behind him, until he felt her hands move under his shirt, tracing either side of his spine and stroking over his skin. Her fingers trailed upward over his back to his shoulders, and she lightly pressed and squeezed. The touch held an intimacy he hadn’t experienced in a long time, and he froze, not knowing what to say or do next.
What the hell is she doing?
“You’re really crunchy back here. I bet you’ve been hurtin’ for a while.”
Crunchy?
“Yeah, my back is pretty messed up,” he ground out as she spread her hands around his sides.
“I can help you with that.”
Fuck! I’m getting a boner.“I got… pills.”
Her laugh showed her amusement. He bet she knew what was going on with him. “I’m a massage therapist. Not the pretty spa kind either, although I’ve done that kind of stuff before. I can work on you once for helping me out tonight. If you want, you can come see me for regular appointments while I’m in town. I’m supposed to check out a gig tomorrow morning at a place called Sunstone Healing.”
Massage therapist?He hadn’t really thought about that as a possibility. Though visions of him naked while she rubbed his back were not helping his current condition. “I’ve seen the place. It’s not far from here. I’ll think about it.”
Her hands retreated, and he almost sighed in relief. “Suit yourself, but let me tell you, medical massage is different and targeted. I do a lot of myofascial release, which is just what you need. I’ve been to school, passed my boards and all that happiness. I’m good at what I do.”
He waited a minute more to be safe before turning to face her. No way did he want her to see his jeans bulging at the zipper. “I’ve never had a massage before, so I can’t compare it to anything.”
A sassy smile broke across her face. “A massage virgin, eh? Oooh, the things I can do for you!”
Shit, stop it!He put his hands in his pockets to make some room in the front of his pants. “I said I’d think about it.”
She raised a brow and reached for her own back pocket. “Hopefully, I’ll have a space tomorrow and can start building a schedule, but I’ll make time for you whenever you need.” She handed him a business card. “This is my old card, but it has my cell number on it. Call me anytime you want me to work on you.”
Those words echoed in his head. He stared at the offered rectangle, thinking if he reached out his hand, it would change the course of his life. It felt close to a commitment, not just an hour on a massage table. To what extent, he didn’t know yet, but once that card was in his hand, there was no going back.
He lifted his arm and took it without comment. If sparks could flare from the tiny card, he would have been burned.
She turned and smarted off over her shoulder as she walked to her parked bike. “Check with me sometime next week. You give me an hour, and I’ll make you a new man.”
He watched her rounded rear sway down the street.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER
FOUR
Edna Clauson limped awkwardlythrough the door to the sidewalk, turned, and locked it behind her. The corner convenience store was chock-full of basic groceries, snacks, ice cream, and other small common items people might need. Rather than go to the bigger shopping centers, many neighborhood people opted to get what they needed here. Clauson’s had been around for close to sixty years. Edna and Albert had opened the store together just after they married and had been in business ever since. Albert passed away a few years ago, leaving Edna to run the place herself.
“I’m getting too old for this, Al,” she groused as she wrestled her fancy seat walker in front of her bulky figure. “I’m almost eighty-five, you know.”
Her habit of talking to her husband had not changed since his death. Every night for decades, they closed up shop at eight o’clock and walked to their small house a few blocks into the residential part of the neighborhood. Tonight, she had a lot on her mind to tell him. “Maybe it’s time for me to sell. None of the kids are interested in running the store, and let me tell ya, the neighborhood is going to hell. Why, just last week, anothercoffee shop got vandalized, just like Bill and Madge’s place. Someone set off a bomb, can you believe that?”
She grunted in her effort to keep walking up the hill to the row of narrow houses. Only twenty or so feet from the front of her store and her words came out puffier as her breathing became labored. She stopped to rest for a moment and kept talking. “Anyway, I’m getting slower and slower these days. It’s just so hard to keep up. Ruby told me she wants me to move closer over in Chambersburg. Says there’s a nice retirement place there I can live where she can keep an eye on me. I’m thinking about it. I can see the grandkids more often too. You should see how tall Coral is now. She’s still marching in the band with that trumpet we bought her. I think she wants to?—”
A loud boom cracked through the air, drowning out any words she might have said next. Pain radiated through her knees, and she realized she’d fallen onto the unforgiving concrete sidewalk.
“Oh!” she cried as a fireball erupted and shot outward from the store she’d just left. Heat billowed over her, knocking her flat. The walker fell over, spilling her purse and some of its contents.
