Touch Me (Promise Me Book 2)

by Viragh, Brea

  The tingle became more insistent, until I lay awake at night with my stomach in knots no sailor ever knew. August insisted he was making progress. Going so far as to accompany Isabel on a trip to pick out a wedding dress. I found the two subjects incompatible in my head. But I was happy for him.

  Instead of all the chores I needed to attend, I answered the phone when the calls came. How much more pleasurable was it to spend time with Duncan instead? Hmm, let me see, vacuum or a lunch date... The choice wasn’t hard.

  “There’s a lot going on inside my head today,” he began in his easy way of conversation.

  We strolled side by side down the walkway in the opposite direction from the downtown area. Stomachs full and hearts content. The sun broke over the mountains to infuse the day with color. Both sides of the street boasted green lawns, freshly painted front porches with swings and bird feeders. The stores thinned out the further we walked from the single stoplight and tall houses became the majority.

  Was it wrong for me to pretend, for a brief instant, Duncan and I were an item instead of two people with their own separate paths? I didn’t think so.

  “When is there ever not?” I retorted, the wind tugging the ends of my skirt. “I find the day isn’t complete unless I’ve made myself miserable by thinking too much. There’s always activity between my ears.”

  “How do you get by?”

  “I’ve gotten used to hearing my internal monologue. Now it’s easier to tune out.”

  “I’ll have to give it a try sometime.”

  Duncan’s footsteps echoed along the street and I hurried to keep up with his long strides. It pleased me when he slowed to accommodate my slower pace. I was thankful to be outside enjoying the scenery, too nice a day to be trapped indoors. A breeze tempered the heat and made a walk more pleasurable. Company notwithstanding.

  “The house renovations are coming along.” Duncan hid his hands inside deep pockets; dark sunglasses shielded his gaze. “At least, I think they are. Hank the contractor has stopped answering my calls because Isabel and I have been pestering him. I’m just trying to keep up with the progress.”

  “You’d think paying the man a small fortune meant you were entitled to a little pestering,” I responded. “Right?” I held out a hand to encourage him to continue.

  “I guess not. I’m trying not to concern myself with it. Too much to handle, and if I don’t focus on the big picture I may lose my mind.”

  It sounded as though he teetered close to the line now. For half a second, I allowed myself the luxury of believing I was the person he confided to. “You’re a big boy. You can handle the pressure with a smile on your face.”

  In truth I felt sorry for Duncan. If I had it in my power, I would have taken all those worry lines from his face and destroyed them. Laughter was hard to draw from him this past week, and more often than not I noticed his distinct angling away from any topic connected to Isabel. The mere mention of August had him spinning into a tizzy.

  Duncan shifted, nodding in a way that let me know he was unconvinced. “What if I don’t always want to keep a smile on my face? Sometimes a man just wants to throw back his head and howl until the frustrations are gone.”

  I let out a half-laugh intended to put him at ease. My expression suggested I was willing to give his desire some serious thought. “Okay, okay. Why don’t you do it, then? Howl like a wolf.”

  “Right here?” Duncan glanced around at the other folks, tourists and locals alike, before he shifted back to me again.

  “Sure. If it will make you feel better, then by all means howl away.”

  He swiveled once before ducking his head down. “Maybe later.”

  “I never would have pegged you for a chicken.” My fingers skittered along his arm like the pecking of a beak.

  “I’m not a chicken. I’ve done some crazy things in my life, haven’t I? Like moving across country. Twice! A chicken wouldn’t have strayed far from its roost.” Duncan returned the gesture as we rounded a corner, our feet leading the way. “Do you know why I decided to move back east?”

  “I’m guessing it had something to do with the woman you want to marry,” I said. I watched his face sour and wondered if he was close to shutting down. Steady, Leda, don’t push him too far.

  “In part.”

  “Only part?” I stopped, hands on my hips and striving for sassy when I wanted the truth more than anything. “Please tell me this secret, Mr. Chicken. I was under the impression you came to Heartwood because Isabel wanted to move back into her parents’ house. Or was I mistaken?”

  “Like I said, that’s part of it.” He clucked his tongue before meandering under the shade of an overhang, flower baskets perfuming the air.

  We got on well together, Duncan and I. It was an amazing difference from some of the other relationships I’d had in the past. There, trying to engage in decent repartee was like pulling teeth. Without anesthetic.

  No, this is not a relationship! This is friendship. Stop fantasizing.

  “I think you like teasing me.” Duncan stopped and studied my face. He was flushed with the heat of the day, a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead. Instead of being repulsed by the sight, I wanted to rub myself against him.

  I was one lovesick puppy.

  Considering his motivations, I kept a safe distance and busied myself with a display of papers on an outdoor rack. “If you don’t like it, too bad. I enjoy seeing you flustered.”

  “And I like seeing you giddy, so we will both have to deal with the consequences.”

  I straightened and tried to resist the urge to kiss him right then and there. “I suppose we will. Now tell me, or else I’ll be forced to use extreme measures.”

  “How tempting.” Duncan leaned against the exterior of the building, perusing the street and everyone on it. He hurried on. “I wanted a change. Do you ever feel like you’re stagnating? You love where you are but sometimes it doesn’t feel as though you’re right anymore.”

  “Why do you think I came here in the first place?” I told myself to stick with the topic at hand. Better than to think about the rightness—or wrongness—of two other people.

  “Even before Isabel told me her idea about moving into her parents’ old house, I wanted a change. I’d considered packing everything up and getting in the car...” He let out a breath of air like someone untying the string on a helium balloon. “Then you get the societal pressures saying you can’t leave. It wouldn’t be right to leave everything behind to start fresh. There are people counting on you, a woman at your side who wants a life together, and deserves to have her desires realized. A job and image to maintain.”

  “I never pegged you for a person who cares much about what society thinks,” I commented, stepping closer.

  The corners of Duncan’s eyes crinkled at my observation. “I don’t. Or maybe I do. Who knows anymore? The point is, I felt like I was running in place. Working my ass off and never getting anywhere. The money didn’t even matter then. I just wanted out.” He grabbed a fallen bud from one of the flowering plants and chucked it into the street.

  “Trust me. I understand the feeling.” I gestured around at the town. “I came here outrunning the same thing. I was stuck in the place I’d grown up, expected to stay in a neat little niche when all I wanted was a fresh start. New people, a new me. But you know the problem?”

  “What?”

  “The feeling follows you. It’s impossible to shake.”

  His chest rippled with the deep chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “Sweetie, I’m always right. I thought you’d already learned?”

  “I should have learned, but I know there’s a lot more for me to know. Before I take the plunge.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  I appreciated his candidness. Duncan was not one for making me feel like a child when I said something he didn’t want to hear. Instead of treating me like a dumb girl, he supported my opinions. I was required to do nothing to maintain his intere
st, and the relief of it was astounding.

  Did I dare tell him the foremost thought in my head? That he wasn’t with the right woman, and his uncertainties were coming to the forefront now because of it?

  “You know,” I began, “maybe you need a little bit of time to think about things before you jump. You’re worried and it’s starting to show.” My fingers trailed along his arm before falling away.

  “I am stressed. I’m feeling the pressure of not having a support system in the area, and I’m having doubts about...”

  He trailed off and I understood. A fissure of hope burst to life, travelling along my arms and legs until inner romantic woke from her slumber. Insistent. We could have him¸ she whispered. We could take him from Isabel because he doesn’t want her anymore. He wants you!

  I shoved her away until her serpent’s song was a mere echo. It was Duncan’s decision to make and I refused to push him. The choice he made in the end must be his own. With no help from me or anyone else.

  Except August, came the sly retort.

  “Hey,” I said at last when Duncan failed to continue, “let’s enjoy the nice day and push all of these horrible things from our heads.” Shaking out my arms and hands, I urged Duncan to do the same. “Get them gone, okay? Shake it off.”

  He grinned. “I’d feel stupid.”

  “Do it anyway.” We stood on the sidewalk together, wiggling our arms, twisting our shoulders and heads from side to side. At last I felt the tense weight and pressure lift. “There now. Isn’t that better? Now we can go on with our walk.” I picked up the pace, with the echo of my heels on concrete trailing us.

  “Teach me to dance.”

  I turned around to stare at him. Instantly sobered. “Teach you to what?”

  “Dance.” Duncan shifted his feet in a poor parody of a tap dance before shooting me a knowing frown. “With the wedding coming up, I’m ashamed to admit...I don’t know how to dance.”

  “Sounds impossible! You have to know how to dance.” I pressed my lips together to stifle a giggle. “Your parents never saw fit to teach you?”

  “If you want me to take down a tree, or haul a load of bricks from somewhere, or find you a great deal on car insurance, then I am your man. But otherwise, the finer aspects of life elude me,” he admitted. Like anyone would believe him in those suits.

  We walked on through the hush of afternoon with the echoes of my failed declaration following us. “There are people in town who would squeeze you in for a lesson. I’m not sure I’m the right person for the job.”

  “I don’t want a lesson. I want...I want you to show me.”

  I used my shoulder to bump him, though he never budged. Better to play than read too far into his slight hesitation. It was hardly a pause at all, but inner romantic showed me how to connect the dots. Answers to my questions were somewhere in those lines even when I knew the connecting got me nowhere. “I’m no professional. I can teach you to swivel your hips or grind, but not to waltz.”

  “I’ve seen you move.” At last, Duncan bumped me in return and I shot halfway across the sidewalk. Thank goodness he was the one facing the street. “You have rhythm, lady.”

  “Oh sure. My rhythm is going to take me far.”

  “Can you teach me or not?”

  “I mean...” I shrugged. “I would be happy to help you. Anything to make your day better.” The last part stuck in my throat and came out garbled. “I aim to please.”

  Duncan took me by surprise, grabbing my hand and swinging me around in the middle of the sidewalk. “Then let’s get started.”

  Music played from a small radio in the window of the artisan sandwich shop.

  “Duncan, right here?” I was embarrassed when he lifted his arm to come around my waist. “You were embarrassed to shake it out but you want to learn to dance right now?”

  “What better time to learn?” he insisted. Squaring his shoulders and standing up straight, he held his frame strong. And I was powerless to stop him.

  Adrenaline coursed through me, fueled by a heady combination of summer sunlight and lust. Desire pooled low until any doubts were destroyed. “There will be no jelly arms, understand?” I said with mock severity. “If you’re going to learn, then you listen to what I say.”

  Duncan inclined his head, the motion followed by a curt half-bow. “Yes, Master Leda.”

  “It’s Mistress Leda to you. Dancer extraordinaire!” I spun on my heel. Proud when I completed the circle without losing my balance. Poo-poo to anyone who said dancing in five-inch heels was impossible. “Now, this is a simple two-step. My father taught me.”

  Using the power of my body, I guided Duncan in a square, motioning toward his feet and giving him a playful kick or two when he missed his footing.

  Others stopped to stare as we swayed. Patrons eating their sandwiches from quaint picnic tables near a miniature green space turned to watch the progress and offer their words of encouragement. In due course, Duncan got the hang of the moves and we glided from one side of the wide walkway to the other and back again.

  “You got the moves, buddy!” I exclaimed.

  He laughed and it was a release, the sound lending a boyish quality to his features. “How am I doing?”

  Too well, I thought. I wanted to throw myself in his arms and let him carry me away. “Not bad,” I answered instead. “But then I’m no great teacher—”

  “Now you’re being modest!” Duncan spun me around in a circle until my head dipped back. Warm air caressed my cheeks, doing zilch to cool the raging inferno inside.

  My fingers gripped his arm. “You love it, don’t lie.”

  “I do indeed, Miss Cox.”

  The radio switched to a new song, yet we continued our dance. The tempo did not matter because we made our own. Went unheeded even with the crowd watching.

  My heart was beating loud enough to thump above the music and sounds of passing cars. I clung to Duncan, helpless, knowing my calm exterior was seamless while inside I floundered.

  “I told you,” he said, “you were just the person to teach me to dance.”

  I looked up into his eyes and, if I wasn’t mistaken, saw the desire there. “I had no choice,” I answered. “Who am I to say no to you?”

  My palms felt sweaty on his shoulders. I let my body take over until it swayed without effort, Duncan spinning me in a long and lazy circle. Instead of leaping and shouting for joy, I let him lead, too powerless to do anything but turn my hips. Match my speed to his until the world disappeared.

  In this moment, I wasn’t a thirty-year-old hairdresser working out of a rental.

  I wasn’t a budding baker intent on making a mark in the world.

  I was Duncan’s girl. And I wanted him to keep me.

  I closed my eyes, hoping I could imagine away the pleasure glowing on my face.

  “You’re pretty damn graceful when you dance. Did you know that?” Duncan asked.

  I couldn’t make my lungs work. Bless my poor, naïve heart. “You don’t say.”

  He smiled down once more and a chill slid over me. “Each day is different, but it’s amazing the change when you move. Twirling with the music. You almost become a different person.”

  “I have a great partner,” I said instead.

  Knowing I was going too far, I broke his hold and stepped back as the magic of the moment disintegrated. “I should get going. I’ve already wasted enough time.”

  “You don’t want to stay with me a little longer?” His arms appeared empty with no one there to hold.

  My own happiness could not come at the expense of another. I needed Duncan to choose me, and with his wedding looming large ahead of us, it wouldn’t happen.

  “I can’t. Sorry.”

  He barked out another laugh, the sound rubbing against my skin in a way that was not quite wrong but not quite right. “Sure, I know you’re busy. Let’s get back to your car.”

  I ignored his offered elbow and insisted on walking a few steps ahead of him. “Perfect.
I don’t know why I let you talk me into a walk when I have so many other things to do today. Busy schedule.” Rose-colored glasses, I thought. Easy to see the world as you wish it instead of how it is. Now the old cliché rang true.

  “I know you called me a chicken, but I would have never believed it of you,” Duncan put in almost conversationally.

  I whirled on him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means...ugh.” He shrugged his shoulders and continued to forge ahead, looking ill at ease. “I didn’t figure a little dancing would make you want to turn tail and run.”

  “Believe me, Duncan, it wasn’t the dancing. Better I leave now before...” There was no sense in finishing the sentence. He knew the words I kept unsaid. They were bitter when I swallowed them down.

  He studied me and I could see he almost considered pressing further. “I’ll walk you to the car, at least. Maybe we can talk more about this later.”

  “No. No more talking. You head back to work. I’ll be fine. Just like I was fine before you came to town.” Unsure where that nasty retort came from, I continued in a gentler tone, “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk. At the time, being honest with him didn’t feel like a viable option. And I could not look him in the eye without a lie or a dissemble. Lasting relationships were not based on those.

  I left him sputtering behind me, hurrying up the slight incline as fast as my heels allowed. I needed the distance, the space, before I threw caution to the wind. Part of me wondered why I didn’t just confess my feelings for him, when obviously there was enough mutual interest on his part to make a relationship at least a possibility.

  Because, I argued, there is no sense in pursuing someone who does not want to be pursued. And despite Duncan’s apparent interest, there was no going back.

  The wedding chapel was booked.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “You aren’t listening to me!”