Page 32 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

“You slept well.”

“You don’t know that.”

“The tension around your eyes is different.”

I look toward the shelves rather than respond. “You’re standing on something not designed as a ladder.”

“It is designed to support more than twice my weight.”

“It doesn’t have a locking spreader.”

“It’s eighteen inches tall.”

“A fall can occur from any height.”

Loralee steps down. “I’m beginning to understand how you avoid personal conversations.”

“I came to check your western screen weight.”

“No, you didn’t.”

I walk behind the display and test it anyway, finding it secure.

“Rocco.”

I straighten. Loralee waits near the center table, giving me enough distance to choose whether to approach. She does not mention my energy or ask what I dreamed. She merely stands there, patient and more difficult to evade because of it.

“My shoulder is better. Considerably better,” I add. “I slept almost six hours without waking.”

“That’s good.”

“It is.”

The response is quiet. No celebration. No reminder that she predicted the treatment would help. She accepts the information without turning it into proof of anything beyond her professional ability.

I move closer.

“What you did last night helped more than I expected,” I tell her. “I didn’t acknowledge that properly before I left.”

“You were shaken.”

“That isn’t an excuse.”

“No. But it is a reason.”

I study her face. “Thank you, Loralee.”

“You’re welcome, Rocco.”

This time, the words feel complete.

Her eyes remain on mine. I remember sitting on the edge of her massage table with her wrist in my hand. The rapid beat of her pulse beneath my thumb. Her lips parted slightly as she looked at me.

If I had stayed another minute, I would have kissed her.

Part of me resents the restraint. The rest knows it was the only acceptable decision. She was treating an injury. Whatever existed between us before I removed my shirt became complicated the moment I became her client.

I glance toward the privacy screens. “What happened near the end of the session? You reached across me,” I continue. “I reacted.”