When We Touch

by Tia Louise

  “Ember,” my voice cracks. “Please. Let me touch you.”

  A quiet noise, a hesitation.

  Suspense is a painful knot in my throat.

  The slightest movement, and she steps forward into the silvery light. Her shirt is thin, and I can make out the dark tips of her nipples, beaded and pointing at me. I lift my hand, holding it palm up to her. It feels like an eternity, but she slowly places her hand in mine.

  Our fingers thread, and the fist in my chest relaxes. I exhale a groan as I pull her to me, covering her small body with mine. Her face is at my sternum, and I hold her, wrapping her in my arms. Small hands touch my lower back, and I feel her tremble.

  “Are you afraid?” I speak against her hair, kissing it, kissing the side of her head, inhaling deep breaths of her delicate lavender scent.

  “Yes,” she whispers, and I lean back.

  Her hands are still on my waist, and I cup her cheeks, looking deep into her brown eyes. They glisten in the moonlight, and I kiss them gently, left, right, salt on my tongue.

  “Don’t fear me.”

  She’s off her feet in a sweep, her back against the wall. Her legs are around my waist, and our mouths collide. Pushing her lips apart, I find her tongue. Oceans of warmth flood my veins.

  Yes.

  Home.

  Ember.

  I hold her by the ass, using my chest pressed against hers for balance. Our stomachs press together, skin against skin, and it feels so damn good.

  A little moan slips from her mouth into mine. Her hands are on my neck, her thumb touching my jaw, moving to our mouths. She’s kissing me with as much need as I feel. I move away, and she follows, holding onto me and whimpering.

  Heat burns where my erection is pressed against her core. Only a thin scrap of silk and my jeans stand between us.

  Kissing her deeper, I taste her mouth. She’s oaky Chardonnay and saltwater sweet. She’s pulling my lips with hers, and I rock my erection against her clit.

  Her head drops back and she moans, “Oh, God, Jackson.”

  I trace my tongue up her slim neck to her jaw. “I want you so much.” I kiss her again. “I want you so much it hurts.”

  She kisses me again, but something changes. As if waking from a dream, I feel her retreating, her kisses growing shallower. Her hands fist against the tops of my bare shoulders, moving down to my arms.

  “Stop,” she gasps. “Put me down, Jackson.”

  “No,” I groan.

  I go in for another kiss, sweeping my tongue into her mouth, finding hers and claiming it. Her hands return to my face briefly before moving to my shoulders again.

  “I said stop.” Her voice is stronger. “Put me down.”

  She arches her back away, unhooking her legs from around my hips. She exhales a noise, and when her feet touch the wooden floor, she places her palm flat against my chest.

  “I shouldn’t have done that.” Her voice trembles when she speaks. “I won’t… I won’t do this with you. Not again.”

  She won’t meet my eyes. Her breasts rise and fall, her luscious curves straining beneath thin cotton. Her words are like knives slicing through my abdomen, the pain of having her so close, yet not having her.

  “Ember…” My voice is a ragged whisper. “Please don’t send me away.”

  “You have to go now. Don’t come here again.”

  She slips through the open door into the darkness of her room. A lamp is shining from the top of a shelf, but she has gone somewhere I can’t see her.

  I won’t cross her threshold. I won’t force her to be with me when she asks me to leave this way.

  “You’ve got to talk to me, Ember,” I say, straining my eyes into the darkness. “You have to hear me out. There’s more to our story. I—I need you to talk to me.”

  Silence is the only reply.

  I know she hears me, but she’s withdrawn. I won’t get any further with her tonight. My shoulders drop, and I go to the end of the porch. Lifting one leg over, I look back at the shadows in her room.

  “Goodnight, my Ember Rose,” I say softly, and with that, I climb back down the way I came.

  Twelve

  Ember

  Sitting on the floor in the darkness, I hold my hands over my ears and weep. My body shakes. Pain radiates from my chest out through my limbs, and I can’t stop crying.

  He kissed me the way he always did, demanding, possessive, take no prisoners. It was so good. It hurt so bad. He even tasted the same. It was Jackson. It destroyed my already broken heart.

  “No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I must be strong.”

  With a hiccupped breath, I crawl weakly to my empty bed. He can’t do this. He can’t come back and snap his fingers and I fall into his lap, onto his dick.

  Lying on my back in the darkness, I listen as the rain begins to fall, mixed with low, rumbling thunder. The long curtains hanging beside my French doors billow and stretch out in the breeze. The fans push the cooler air around me, and I pull the blankets higher seeking comfort.

  Red-hot cinnamon fills my mouth, tears are in my eyes, and my core is achy and wet. My nipples tingle and my whole body is lit like a firecracker.

  Damn you, Jackson Cane.

  His scent is on my skin. I can still feel his large hands gripping my ass, his chest pressed against mine, strong and hard. Skin against skin, my thighs wrapped around his waist. I’d held him and kissed him like I’d been lost in the desert and he was a cool drink of water.

  I’ve never been able to move past Jackson Cane.

  My teenage dreams rush back on the damp air. I’d wanted him to fill me. I felt him straining to make us one, but self-preservation broke through the haze of lust.

  Pain and heartbreak rose like an iron rod inside me to push him away. I can’t go down that road again.

  The first time I lost him, I didn’t think I’d survive it. I didn’t want to survive it. I had Tabby, of course, and my mother… my constant source of shaming. I’d given him everything, and he’d taken it and left.

  The worst part was never knowing why. It had been in that time just on the edge of everyone having cell phones and easy Internet access—not that I would have had those things in high school. Marjorie would never have tolerated that much freedom for her one remaining daughter.

  So I sat in silence, cut off, confused, and broken.

  I was so sure what we’d had was real. I was so shattered and miserable.

  And time passed…

  Eventually, I had to live without him. I gave in to my mother’s pressure to find other interests, to volunteer at the church. I’d go out with Tabby. It distracted me, but it never filled the hole in my chest.

  Nothing filled it until Coco… which is why I won’t be going down that road again. My daughter needs me, and I have plans.

  Clutching a pillow to my chest, I roll over and force myself to think of her. Her sweet scent, her velvety cheeks, her little hands, and enormous personality. Coco is my world now.

  Her and this store.

  They’re all that matter.

  * * *

  “Polly’s mommy’s cake is gooey.” Coco is on my lap at my mother’s table. Beside her is a bowl of dry Cheerios and a glass of milk. “She said it comes in a box.”

  Gathering my little girl’s hair in my hands, I kiss the side of her neck and take a long sniff. “It’s faster that way. And cheaper.”

  “You look tired.” My mother takes her seat at the opposite end of the table, coffee in hand.

  “The rain kept me awake.” I don’t look up when I answer.

  Or smile.

  Words that would be kind from anyone else always have a tinge of judgment when they come from her mouth.

  “The thunder went Boom!” Coco raises one hand over her head.

  “Did it keep you awake?” I ask, twisting a tie around her thin ponytail.

  “Nope.” Coco is focused on stacking her Cheerios. “Polly’s daddy said God was rolling his barrels.”

 
“Polly’s daddy is wrong,” my mother snips. “God doesn’t have barrels.”

  “He does, too!” Coco argues, adding a round cereal to the stack. “Barrels of beer.”

  I bite back a laugh, thinking of my mother’s text from yesterday.

  “Colette Corinne Warren. That’s blasphemous.”

  Coco climbs onto her knees. “Blasperous!” she growls, smashing her Cheerio tower. “Blasperous!” She holds out her little hands.

  I can’t stop my snort at this point. My mother cuts her eyes at me, and I stand, sweeping my girl onto my hip. “She’s finished. We’re going to the shop.”

  “She is not finished!” My mother snaps. “She needs to drink that milk.”

  Scooping up the glass, I carry it to the kitchen and transfer the liquid into a small plastic sippy cup. “Here,” I say, handing it to Coco. “I’ll have her back for supper.”

  We’re out the door while my mother is still fussing. I’m just strapping Coco into her seat and putting on her little helmet when someone calls my name. Looking up, I see Betty Pepper is headed my way.

  “Emberly! That cake you made was absolutely drool-worthy!” She waddles across the median to where I stand holding Dixie.

  “Thanks, Miss Betty.” I walk the bike to meet her. “Are you headed to work?”

  “You know I’m retired,” she says, holding her enormous purse. “I want to see if that rain damaged the paint last night.”

  “Oh…” I frown looking up ahead. “I hadn’t thought about the paint.”

  “Cause he hasn’t gotten to your store yet. It’s probably fine.” We walk a bit further before she shifts gears. “Bucky said he’s picking you up tonight at seven.”

  “That’s what he said,” I say with a sigh. You’d think she was taking me out as much as she talks about it.

  “Is Tabby watching Lola for you?”

  “Coco,” I gently correct her. “No, she’ll be here at my momma’s.”

  “Good of her to help you the way she does.”

  “My momma likes to be in control of things.” I do my best to keep my tone light.

  Betty nods, pressing her lips together. “You are so right there. That is one thing Marjorie has always done. Controlled things, bless your heart.”

  I was right with her up until the last part. “What do you mean?”

  “It’ll be the first time you’ve dated anyone since… Mason Green? A major breakthrough if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t really date Mason. He took me to a few dances.”

  “You’ve never really dated anyone since…” She arches her brow in a knowing way, but I’m not discussing my love life with Busybody Pepper.

  “I guess I’m frigid,” I tease.

  “Oh, you’re not frigid. You’ve got too much of your daddy in you for that.” She pats my forearm. “Yes, you got that Warren fire from him—and your strength. He was a strong man.” We’re just entering the small business district, and my shoulders tense when I see Jackson touching up the paint on the hardware store. “Although, I guess he did have one weakness, didn’t he.” The old woman gives me the side-eye then shrugs. “I suppose that’s what drew you two together. Genes.”

  I stop walking. “Betty Pepper, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She does a little jump as if I’ve startled her. “You don’t? Well…” Pulling her giant purse closer to her, she starts up her front steps. “Maybe you’ll figure it out.”

  She storms through her door, and I’m left standing in the middle of the street staring after her wondering what the hell. A low voice from above snaps me out of it.

  “Good morning,” Jackson calls down.

  I don’t look up.

  Coco, by contrast, is eager to return any greeting. “Good morning, painter man!” she cries, waving her hands frantically.

  I pick up the pace, practically jogging us past the hardware store and my bakery, around the corner and into the alley.

  “Zoom!” Coco hums as I get her out of the seat. The moment her feet touch the ground, she takes off headed for the corner. “Zoom!”

  She’s running, but I catch her around the waist. “Hold up, speed racer. Give me that helmet.”

  Carrying her in through the back door, I drop her little helmet on a chair and set her on her feet. She takes off running to the front of the store, where her stash of “baking supplies” is still waiting from earlier in the week.

  “What’s our new monster?” I call, stopping to lift the apron over my head.

  “Yellow monster says cuatro!”

  “Hmm,” I think about it. “I think zesty lemon for this monster.”

  “Yes!” she cries, dumping all the play-dough items on the wooden floor.

  I head for the refrigerator. All but the final two-tiered dessert cake and Donna’s wedding cake are left on my schedule. The dessert cake needs to be done by the weekend, but I have a month to work on Donna’s.

  As I take out the ingredients, my mind bounces from my conversation with her to the strange conversation I just had with BP. My phone buzzes, and I place the eggs, milk, and butter on the heavy wooden table where I work.

  “Who’s texting me?” I lift the device then do a little shiver. “Probably Bucky Pepper.”

  I’m sorry if I went too far last night.

  Frowning, my eyes go to the door.

  Who is this?

  I text back, looking at the windows. I notice bits of the scaffolding have moved closer to my building. Fluttery nerves tighten my stomach. It’s as if the metal bars surrounding me are a trap.

  I hope you’ll let me see you again. We need to talk.

  How did you get this number?

  Several seconds pass, and the only noise is Coco humming as she assembles her brightly colored dough. I don’t see any little dots or indication a reply is on the way.

  “Jackson Cane,” I say under my breath. “You’d better answer me.”

  Just then the bell over the door rings, and my best friend enters. I don’t miss her nodding to someone outside.

  “Good morning!” Tabby calls out happily.

  “Aunt Tabby!” Coco shouts. “I’m making yellow monster cuatro!”

  “Yellow monster cuatro! Let me guess… He’s number four?”

  “Cuatro!” Coco cries as if she’s at the bullfights.

  “Cuatro!” my friend echoes.

  I’m standing at the table, arms crossed and waiting.

  “What’s twisting your panties?” Tabby drops her bag on the opposite end of the counter.

  “I just got a text from someone who shouldn’t have my number.”

  “Telemarketer?” With a little skip, she pulls out a notepad and a pen. “Speaking of which, I was thinking I’d get started on your online store. I’ll need pictures… What else? Let’s discuss.”

  “Okay, for starters why did you give Jackson Cane my number without my permission?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says with a little laugh as she continues scribbling on her notepad.

  My phone buzzes again.

  Don’t be mad at Tabby.

  “Don’t…” I turn to the window, and electricity flashes when my eyes meet Jackson’s. He gives me a wink, and my mouth drops open.

  Tabby frowns and looks over her shoulder, spotting him. “Talk about throwing people under the bus,” she mutters.

  She flips him the bird then all I see are legs as he continues up the scaffolding. “He’s starting on the balcony?” I look at the ceiling overhead. “I thought he would start at the bottom!”

  Chewing my lip, I try to remember how I left the place this morning.

  “Underwear all over the floor?” Tabby teases.

  I wave frantically at her. “Keep your voice down. He can hear everything we say.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if this building takes him a week to finish.”

  Her teasing is making me furious, and I pull her closer over the table. “Why are you being so flip
pant? I thought you were on my side in this.”

  “I’m always on your side,” she hisses. “I just bumped into him at the store, and he told me something I didn’t know.”

  “What?” I step back and fix my eyes on the table.

  She shrugs. “He didn’t tell me much, but I think the two of you need to have a conversation.”

  Pressing my lips together, I try not to growl. “What did he say?”

  “What if Jackson thought you were the one who left? What if he was given the same line as you?”

  “I wasn’t given a line. A line would have been great. I wasn’t given anything.” I storm over to the mixer and pull out the large glass bowl. “I got radio silence.”

  My KitchenAid mixer was the first appliance I ever bought, and it wiped me out for three months. Still, I don’t regret the decision. Reaching for the flour, baking soda, and eggs, I start the process of making the cake.

  “I’m sorry,” Tabby says, carrying the cocoa to where I stand. “I should have asked your permission first.”

  “Yes, you should have.”

  “I only want you to be happy, Em. I remember what it was like when you were with Jackson. You were pretty young, but still… you just glowed.”

  Heat fills my eyes, and I blink it away quickly. “I’ve got more important things to worry about now.”

  “You have to make time for your needs, too.”

  “I have to think about Coco and what she needs and this store and what it needs.”

  “You need to prioritize you. Remember that thing about putting on your own oxygen mask before helping someone else?”

  Arching my eyebrows, I look up at her. “You’ve never been this philosophical as long as I’ve known you.”