Touch Me (Promise Me Book 2)

by Viragh, Brea

  “I got turned down for the loan because someone thinks I’m cheating with a soon-to-be-married man,” I admitted at last. “All from helping my friend. Are you happy?”

  The statement sparked a fire within my father. A long-dead ember stemming from the loss of his own marriage and bursting to life once more. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “We’re only friends,” I insisted. “I know better than to come between a relationship in such a physical way. I’m not stupid.”

  Hudson shook his head. “I never said you were.”

  The truth burst forth with all the force of floodwater. Refusing to be contained despite my good intentions. I let my fist come down on the countertop though inner romantic urged me to bite my tongue regarding my feelings for Duncan. Those I gathered tight to me, a tiny flicker wedged where no one could find it.

  “People in town are talking about me, and it’s affecting my business. I need you to tell me what to do...I don’t know anymore! Do I tell my friend to go it alone because of the negative backlash, or do I stick it out and weather the consequences?” Tears burned behind my eyes and all at once my knees weakened. I sagged against the counter to remain upright. “I got in a huge fight with him about it last night. I feel guilty.”

  The look Hudson shot in my direction made me want to crawl under a rock. “I taught you better than to come between a husband and wife,” he fumed. “I know you wouldn’t do such a horrible thing. But people love a story.”

  “I didn’t do anything! And now I’m afraid—” A hiccup stole my breath. My façade of indifference collapsed and I felt about eleven years old again. Eleven years old and abandoned by my mama on the front lawn. “I’m afraid I’m never gonna get my bakery if I keep helping August.”

  The soda can crushed between Hudson’s fingers. “You never let anyone tell you what you can and cannot do. You hear me? You tell those bank people to keep their prejudices out of your pocket and give you that loan. And tell your friend he should have never put you in a bad situation in the first place.”

  My chest thrust out in an automatic attempt to appear bigger than I was. Teeth gritted, I fired back with, “We’re friends, Papa. I agreed to help because you told me family sticks together.”

  “I did,” he responded. “But family doesn’t hurt each other. Maybe I should have said it more. I don’t blame you for anything, girl. You stick by your people, and that’s a damn good quality. I’ll tell you something now I never thought I would. There’s a line.”

  The conversation, however heated, brought a flush to his cheeks until he radiated vigor and good health.

  “I’ve tried to be good, but it seems like no matter what I do, it backfires. Now my income is suffering, I can’t get a job, and people in town are being ugly to me!” I gathered the pain I’d internalized and unleashed it on him. “I’ve been handling it the best I can and I don’t need people to accuse me of doing something wrong, something I haven’t done.” My finger dug into my breastbone. “I’m suffering.”

  “I wish I had a better answer for you, girl. The jist of it is, no matter what I say, it all circles back to her. Do you understand what happened that day?” His eyes blazed. “She said to me, ‘Hudson, I met a man. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, we’re just friends.’ Told me she needed to get away for a while and there was nothing going on between them. And that’s what got us here. I made sure you understood that family doesn’t abandon each other. I didn’t want the same thing happening to you.” Flushed, he ground his teeth until enamel gritted against its equal.

  “She didn’t just abandon you when she left, Papa. She abandoned me too.

  Hudson kept his hands in his pockets, eyes locked on some spot out the window far into the distance. “You’re gonna do what you want, Leda, and you’re a smart girl so I know you’ll make the right choice. I’m gonna tell you a different tale today. You never let anyone stand in the way of your dream. Not this friend of yours. Nobody. If you’re worried about losing your way, then fight to find it again.”

  Inch by inch we crept closer to each other until our shoulders were close to touching. “I don’t want to hurt him. I feel like the damage has already been done, even though I’m doing the best I can.” My chin snapped up. “It’s never good enough.”

  A wall inside of me shifted and the last dregs of self-righteous indignation fell away. At once I was dead tired, the weight of everything I tried to contain pushing down on me. Blame it on the homecoming. On my own need to stay strong in the worst of circumstances.

  I stooped down, using my hands to brace against the wall. “I’m sorry, Papa. I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

  Hudson rubbed at his hair and dirt fell away. A product of hard work with no breaks. “It’s not your fault. But you know to stay strong. You tell your friend he’s on his own, hold your head up high, and get back to work. If this fellow feels the same about you, then your friendship will come out on the right side of whatever trouble is happening.”

  I shouldn’t have agreed to this scheme in the first place.

  “I’m afraid that the damage has already been done,” I maintained. “I’ve been a respectable member of the community and now they’re turning on me. Doesn’t who I am and what I’ve done count?”

  Hudson took his time answering. “I never wanted this for you. Never in a million years would I expect you to have such hardship.”

  His words brought a fresh surge of frustration. “It’s my own fault.”

  “I wanted you to find a nice man. To settle down, no strings attached, maybe give me a few grandchildren to spoil.”

  Tilting my head, bangs fell across my eyes and shielded the wistful expression. “I doubt you would take the time out of your schedule for pretend pony rides, Papa.”

  “You don’t know how happy I was when you decided to get out of here.”

  “Wow, you could have fooled me.”

  “You made a life for yourself and I’m damned proud of every milestone you’ve accomplished, no matter how small.” He paused. “You heed my words. Focus on your bakery, and forget the rest. Every foul look and nasty word. Push it out of your mind.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m listening.”

  “Let go of my idea and think about what’s best for yourself here. No sense continuing down a path of self-destruction just because your daddy told you it was right. Otherwise you’ll let someone else take you down with them. You understand?”

  “Focus on my bakery.”

  “Dammit, girl, yes. You focus on your dream. One day, you’ll get it.” The glass now empty, Hudson set it next to the row of other dishes in need of attention.

  A rush of emotion coursed through me and I grabbed him by the shoulders, drawing him in for a hug. It was the type of unforced embrace held only between a parent and child. Gone were the thoughts of joking about the grime, the embarrassment I felt about needing Daddy’s approval, or any awkwardness Hudson felt around other people. It was a pure and simple affirmation of the strength powering my core.

  “You deserve happiness,” Hudson said.

  I kept the tears at bay through sheer strength of will. At last I tipped my head and rocked back on my heels.

  “Love you,” I told him.

  His face softened. “Love you more. Let’s put this nonsense aside for the afternoon. Okay? I’ll pack up shop and we can go out and grab a bite to eat. Maybe that place you like with the Caribbean jerk chicken.”

  I forced a smile, eyes stinging. “Sounds like a great plan.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I returned home close to the witching hour, and sat awake for most of the night, toothpicks keeping my eyes propped open. Monday loomed large ahead and with it came Esme Monroe’s big anniversary party. At least I’d managed to keep her business.

  The morning would be spent chained to the stove as I concocted the desserts Esme desired for her “small affair.” These would need to be the best sweets of my life. Knowing the Monroe couple the way I did
, it wasn’t a wrong assumption to double the number of guests she’d stated. I’d be cooking for at least eighty people. Some of which would more than likely be the clients I’d lost.

  I could only hope my involvement with August and Duncan wouldn’t impact Esme on her special day. More than likely, the public at large would turn up in droves to see what I did, record anything I’d say, and talk about it later with their best friends and significant others.

  Stars hung low in the heavens and I stared out the glass, curtains thrown to the side and window open to let in the night breeze. The evening carried a certain sweetness, a freshness where dark cleansed the labor of the day. The sight of the crescent moon riding over the low hills had my thoughts drawing toward Duncan yet again.

  It was easy, too easy, to imagine the two of us sprawled together, staring out at the same sky and making wishes on the stars. Watching the moon complete its phase from sliver to full and around again.

  My father and I had spent a long afternoon discussing pieces of ourselves which hadn’t seen the light since I was eleven. It helped to clear my head from all the muck and mire within its depths. It also helped me realize I was a goner. There was no way I could resist Duncan, and I didn’t want to. It meant living with the knowledge of my choice and being strong enough to let him go.

  Now I was in a place to reconcile with August without the guilt. To continue doing what I could to reach my goals without worrying about what people thought about me.

  I shook my head to clear the images, willing sleep to come once I’d settled down in bed. It was ever the fickle mistress. Eluding me when I would have taken it into open arms.

  Morning’s light came once more and with it the responsibilities of the new day. I hadn’t heard another peep from August, although I hardly expected to. We’d said our piece the other night. The road he chose from here was his to walk alone.

  Just as I had mine.

  Instead of dwelling on my exhaustion-fueled wonky mood, I focused on gathering what I needed for work. The garden gave me part of the ingredients and the grocery store the rest. Amid my search for baking components came hushed whispers, and often I caught the echo of my name in reedy threads of conversation.

  I dove into work and remembered what Papa said. Nothing good came from listening to gossip. With my mind made up and my back straight, I got to work. The preparation took less time than I expected, though hours sped by while I whipped and beat multiple batters. A bevy of frostings and ganache, with enough sugar between them to make even the most hardened sweet freak go into a coma. Sweat poured down my brow and seeped into a bandana as I divided my time between the multiple desserts.

  Once I was finished, I leaned against the cabinets and took a moment to stare at the toils of my hard work. Across the countertop, on two tiers, was each of the sweets Esme wanted—and more. If there was a way to show Archie Fishman my creations, I would take it in a snap. Anyone who questioned my ability to bake—or to be a decent human being—need only take a bite of these cakes to see I was serious.

  Hard work didn’t frighten me. Not having the opportunity did.

  “All right, boys and girls.” I kept my hands on my hips. “Let’s get you into some willing mouths.”

  This anniversary party for Mrs. Monroe was a good step in a forward direction. A way to get my name out there for the masses and convince them of my worth. And a way to get my thoughts away from August...and Duncan. I knew what I had to do there, even when it killed me to consider it. I was drawn to the man too strongly, adamantine chains binding my heart to his. The future would be different if he realized the possibilities. Or rather, if he cared enough to do something.

  I loaded the backseat and drove to town early to take care of the set-up before guests arrived, parking next to the Monroes’ mid-sized car in the lot overlooking the green space. They’d picked a beautiful day for the party, I had to admit. Flowers were still in full bloom and children braved the warm weather to frolic among the playground equipment. Clouds blocked the sun at opportune moments, granting a few glorious seconds of relief from the heat, and the sound of laughter filled the air.

  Bill and Esme had placed their table of food beneath a towering black walnut tree with branches stretching to the sky. Dozens of bowls of goodies already dotted the red and white checkered cloth. I recognized several dishes from various potlucks at the flea market, where men and women alike brought their wares for others to sample. There were sandwiches and dips, finger foods and pretzels. I imagined any partygoers would have their fill and leave happier than the honorary couple of the hour.

  The sun sparkled overhead and I cut across the grass to where little old ladies rushed about in preparation. They scurried around, hens with chicks to look after, making sure the set-up was perfect for Esme and Bill.

  None of them seemed to notice me. “Hello there!” My greeting sang out across the busy green and three blue-white heads bobbed up in unison. “It’s a great day for a party.”

  Esme lifted a hand to beckon me over, face alit in a smile that deepened her wrinkles. “Leda, you’re here too soon!”

  “The better to help you, my dear.” I hurried over to them and placed a kiss on her cheek. Our customary salutation, one I focused on to ignore the speculative glances turning my way.

  “You are no more a big bad wolf than I am.” Esme chuckled before her hawk-like gaze fell on the containers I carried. She looked beautiful, her new haircut complementing her features to perfection, and she’d dressed in an elegant wrap dress to show off her collarbone and legs. Slender sandals emphasized the set of her calves, while the sparkle of jewelry around her neck completed the package. Bill was a lucky man.

  “Are those for me?”

  “This is the tip of the iceberg. There are more in the car.” I placed my wares down on the table and turned back the way I came. Determined not to think about the twitters behind me, whether good or bad.

  “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” Esme insisted, following me. “I asked for a few simple cakes. This looks like enough to feed my guests and then some. The entire town, perhaps!”

  “It’s no trouble at all. Congratulations on your anniversary.” I stared into the bright sky.

  “We sure picked a day for it. Bill will be pleased to see you when he drags himself away from his boys. They’re like a little gathering of ducks, I’m afraid.” She gestured across the park to where four men stood in a circle. “Always quacking about football and muscle cars and the newest sports channel.”

  “Boys will be boys,” I responded.

  She took stock the moment we got to the car. “You made all of this?” Incredulous, she turned to me, hands on hips.

  “I sure did. Fresh and made to order.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Do you like it?”

  “You know I do! Where did you find the time? This is much more than I anticipated.”

  “Don’t worry. I made extra in case we have more people showing up. This summer weather will bring them out in spades and it’s better to be prepared.” I didn’t want to load her arms more than necessary and was happy to take the majority of the boxes. “I made the cakes you wanted, plus added in a new creation of my own. A cross between baklava and custard pie, with nutmeg and honey flavors.”

  We walked along the cedar mulch path toward the food tables. “How exciting! I can’t wait to sample every single one of them,” she exclaimed.

  “The hybrid is for the more adventurous types,” I clarified. “The rest will be satisfied with the cupcakes, I hope. And I’m not sure you’ve heard, but...” Just thinking about the gossip made my stomach ache. “There are certain things being said about me—”

  “Hush.” Esme cut me off in an abrupt and determined blast. “I don’t want to hear another word. Let’s just get these sweets set out before they melt.”

  I trailed after her, mouth snapping shut with a decisive click before a smile lit my features. Pleased as punch I’d made a good decision here when it came to
choosing friends.

  Standing aside, Esme watched me unpack the cakes and set them on tiers lined along the tablecloth. Once satisfied with the setup she went to mingle with the rest of the guests.

  Between her and the other gray-haired ladies, they clucked over party decorations, the perfection of the weather, and every subject in between. I enjoyed watching them, rearranging plates while they hung banners and ribbons from tree limbs. A single word from Esme had her girlfriends showering the same amount of warmth on me as they did each other.

  By God, did I appreciate it.

  Within the hour cars were parked three rows deep in the lot. Men and women gathered together with their plates piled high, goodies disappearing fast. Thank goodness I’d had the presence of mind to make extra, otherwise there would have been trouble. I stood behind the table like a good helper, scooping out portions, making sure the guests were happy.

  Through it all, Esme and Bill were drawn together, starting at opposite ends of the gathering space, greeting their guests one by one. At last they stood side by side, feeding each other bits of cake and smiling like they’d won an award. They were the picture of everlasting love. The type of married couple young people dream about. Built to withstand the test of time.

  Yeah, right. Not in this lifetime. I was prepared for the throat clearing behind me, and had dealt with all manner of conversation throughout the party.

  I hadn’t expected Duncan. “Are all of these yours?” he asked.

  The tingle shot through me like bottled lightning. Sharp, biting. Ebullient. My grin came of its own accord before I turned, stuffing it down and throwing the lock. “They are, yes. I spent the morning baking for my friends. It’s their anniversary party.”

  I shifted around to face him and there he was, standing like a statue in the dappled shade. He was more handsome than any man had a right to be. The carved angles of his face distracted me to the point where I almost didn’t notice the tailored shirt highlighting the wide shoulders. Almost. Creased pants emphasized the tree-trunk width of hard thighs. With one sweep of my eyes, I took him in from head to toe and everywhere in between.