“You’re probably right.” Why was my voice warbling?
“Do you want to try something?”
“That depends.”
She let out a small laugh. “Everyone has free will, dear. You have all the power in the world. I just think you’ll feel better if you can access some of it.”
That sounded wonderful. “Okay.”
“Good.” She let go of my hands, took a deep breath, and then let it out with a whoosh, performing what looked like a dance move with her arms, as if she was helping the released air dissipate. “Okay, put your hands together, as if you were praying.”
Praying. That wasn’t something I’d done since my brief stint in Catholic school. But I put my palms together.
“Now rub them against each other, nice and fast, and focus on the heat you’re generating between them.”
And there went the similarity with Catholic school prayer. I rubbed, surprised by how quickly they warmed. My fingers tingled.
“Good. Now place your right hand over your heart and your left hand on top of your right.”
I did as I was told.
“Feel the heat you generated seeping into your heart and spreading throughout your body. Concentrate on the warmth and close your eyes.”
They drifted shut.
“Good. Now roll your eyes up in your head, as if you’re looking up at the sky, and imagine a point of light way up in the heavens. Allow yourself to breathe into the light and feel it as it shines down on you, like a ray of sunshine, or a liquid light. However you experience it is perfect for you. You cannot do this wrong.”
I instinctively took a deep breath.
“As you exhale, imagine that light flowing straight through your body, filling your entire body with light...your head...your throat...your heart...streaming down your arms and out your fingertips...filling your stomach...your pelvis...your legs...your feet...out through your soles and down into the earth. Now imagine that light reaches the center of the earth and joins the light and energy there, then travels back up your legs, your stomach, filling your heart with more warmth and light. Then back up through the top of your head where it cascades down around you, like a protective shell of light. You’re safe, Phoebe. You’re surrounded and filled with light energy. Breathe.”
Air didn’t just fill my lungs, it felt as if it filled my cells.
“Okay. Exhale slowly and open your eyes.”
I did, and found her gazing calmly at me.
“How do you feel?”
“Wow.” My hands were still glued to my chest, but I slowly lowered them. “I feel calm. And tingly.”
She laughed. “That’s a big improvement, right?”
“Definitely.”
“Good. That was called running energy and grounding. And you can do that, or an even quicker version of it, anytime you feel at loose ends or like the world’s about to fall apart.”
“You’re magical.”
She beamed. “So I’ve been told. But I’ll let you in on a little secret. We’re all magical. Now how about I teach you the magic I work with pie crust?”
“Yes, please.”
This was how Sam was raised. With love and kindness and magic—literal and figurative. It was the opposite of the world I’d grown up in, but I felt more at home in his world with every breath.
28
Sam
The drive to Boston took three and a half hours and the drive home was taking closer to four, thanks to late-afternoon traffic heading into New Hampshire. All that sitting in my car had given me plenty of time to obsess about what it meant that Phoebe hadn’t returned my declaration.
I’d picked up the crystal shipment and some other items for the new treatment rooms at the shop, and I’d treated myself to lunch in Chinatown, a reflexology massage, and a cannoli at Modern Pastry, but none of it had taken the uneasy feeling away. The realization I was in love with Phoebe had hit me like a ton of bricks, even though I’d seen it coming. Or I should have seen it. I’d rationalized my way around it for weeks. But saying it to her, out loud, had brought it to a whole other level of real.
The fucking tarot cards weren’t helping either. I’d done a quick draw before I’d left that morning, with yet another deck. The universe was hellbent on sending me the soulmate message, and I’d reached the point where I couldn’t really argue anymore. I felt the connection with Phoebe, right down to my soul, and I knew it. The card meanings were becoming clearer too. The Lovers card was not just about love, it was about decisions. Choices. Life-changing choices.
Telling Phoebe I loved her had felt like one of those life-changing choices. I only hoped that it hadn’t wrecked what we had.
I parked the truck in the driveway, plucked the Modern Pastry box out of the passenger seat, and headed into the house. Puck meowed so much that a stranger would think he hadn’t been fed in a week, not the measly twelve hours I’d been away. I put the box on the counter and scooped him up. “Buddy, you have zero risk of starvation living in this house.”
I rubbed his head and his tummy and he purred in spite of himself. I set him down next to his food bowls and gave him a dry-food appetizer while I opened his canned food. Once he was fed, I peeked out the back window. Phoebe was home. My stomach flip-flopped. After a day of overthinking, all I really wanted was for things between us to be normal. I needed us to still be…us. No weirdness, no pressure, just that feeling I’d come to associate with her. Belonging. Acceptance.
And love.
Dammit.
The sun had set, but the summer sky still had an indigo glow to it. I headed to her door, prepared to drop off the pastries and leave if she wanted space. She greeted me at the door before I even knocked.
“How was Boston?” She stepped aside so I could enter, then closed the door behind me.
“It was good. Crowded. Definitely tourist season.”
“Yeah, I think all cities are like that in the summer.” She eyed the box in my hand.
“How’d pie-crust lessons go?”
She smiled and whipped out her phone. “Fantastic. Look what we made.”
I ran my finger over her screen, scrolling multiple pics of pies and tarts. “Nice.”
“I left a few things at Speakeasy for more samples, and I saved you some quiche.”
My stomach loved her food, but it was my heart that responded to those words. She was showing me love with her food. I didn’t need the words. “What kind?”
“Ham, asparagus, and gruyère.”
I set the box down on the coffee table and wrapped my arms around her. “Your culinary genius knows no bounds.”
“Flattery will only get you so far, mister. What’s in the Modern box?”
I laughed, picking up the box and giving it a light shake. “How far will it get me if I say pignoli cookies?”
She tapped her finger on her lower lip, head tilting side to side. “Maybe a little further. Depends how fresh they are.”
“Okay, what about a cannoli?”
Her brows popped high. “Chocolate-dipped or plain?”
I lowered my voice seductively. “Both.”
She groaned. “Ooh, baby. Now you’re getting me really hot.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I’ve got two words for you…” I stared into her eyes and stage-whispered, “Lobster tail.”
“I love you.”
I nearly dropped the box.
She looked as surprised as I felt, but then her expression softened. “I mean it, Sam. I’ve been thinking it for days, and I should have said it last night, but I got scared because I’ve never said it before. Not to any guy I’ve ever dated and—”
I put the box back on the table for safekeeping and stepped closer. “Never? To anyone?”
She shook her head, eyes still wide.
“Say it again.”
She held my gaze. “I love you, Sam.”
I didn’t just hear the words that time, I felt them. Everywhere. And I swept her into my arms, kissing her. Slow. Deep. Our bodie
s melting into each other. I had no idea how long we kissed. Time had lost all meaning. But eventually we came up for air.
Phoebe stroked my hair, and I kissed the palm of her hand, feeling happier and lighter than I had…maybe ever.
Her lips grazed mine with one soft kiss, then another. “God, I love kissing you.”
I whispered back, “I love kissing you too.”
She bit her lower lip, eyes casting toward the table. “But I really want the pastries.”
I laughed, loud and hard, feeling every last bit of tension drain out of me. “Let’s eat.”
She sat down on the couch, tugging me down next to her, and wiggled the tight string off the box. She loves me too. This wasn’t all in my head or me getting carried away. We’re in love.
29
Phoebe
I’d spent my entire life fighting so hard not to fall in love, I hadn’t realized how wonderful it would feel to actually be in love. It was surreal in the best possible way. It had never occurred to me how much energy I’d been expending trying not to feel things. Now that I’d told Sam I loved him, a whole new world had opened up to me. I’d opened up.
The air smelled sweeter. Food tasted better. Sex felt better. It was like every rom-com portrayal of new love I’d ever rolled my eyes at, only I wasn’t rolling my eyes. How had this happened?
It sounded ridiculous, but I’d have sworn things started going smoother in every other aspect of my life too. Vendors delivered supplies early or threw in freebies, the gastropub was cruising smoothly toward its opening day, everyone I’d hired was getting along well. The stars had all aligned.
Literally too.
Sam had taken me for my first full-moon hike, and we’d lain on a blanket for over an hour as he pointed out constellations and planets. If it hadn’t gotten buggy, I was pretty sure we would have fucked right there in the clearing, but instead we came home to his big, comfy bed.
Four orgasms later—three for me, one for him—and he was still inside me, giving me lazy kisses and stroking my hair.
Then he screamed. “Puck. What the hell?”
The fuzzy voyeur perched on Sam’s back, looking down at me over his shoulder. I giggled, and Puck started purring and kneading Sam’s shoulder.
“I’m glad you find this amusing.”
I laughed harder as Puck started licking Sam’s hair. “He’s just grooming you.”
“Are you saying I need grooming?”
“You do have an epic case of bedhead going on. I mean, it’s not cat-astrophic or anything.”
Sam’s lips quivered, but he managed to keep a straight face. “You did not just say that.”
“Don’t blame me. Puck was the cat-alyst.”
He shook, but kept his face stern. “Phoebe…”
“This is cat-egorically the best sex I’ve ever had.”
His dick pulsed in response to that comment, stiffening inside me. “I can’t argue with that. But if we’re going for another round, we’re gonna have to lose the third wheel here. I’m greedy and don’t want to share.”
“Are you going to cat-apult him off the bed?”
“Oh, you are so asking for it.” He shifted to the side just enough for Puck to jump down, then got up onto his knees and tickled my sides.
I shrieked and tried to block his hands, but he just tickled me more until I was writhing and laughing and pleading for mercy. “Stop. Can’t take anymore.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over all that cat-erwauling.”
“I love you.” The words came so easy to me now that I couldn’t stop saying them. Like magic, he stopped tickling and bent forward to kiss me.
“I love you too.”
“In spite of the bad puns?”
“Because of the bad puns.” He kissed his way to my neck, slowly sliding in and out of me, and suddenly nothing was funny anymore. All I felt was good.
I sank my fingers into the flexed muscles of his ass, tugging him closer with every thrust, wanting him inside me as deep as he could go. Our bodies in perfect rhythm. Our gasps echoing in the candlelight.
Sam groaned, his voice thick with need. “Come for me, Phoebe. I want to feel you come on my cock one more time tonight.”
Normally, I hated being told what to do, but with Sam? In bed? His request went straight to my clit as he ground against me, long, slow strokes drawing me closer and closer.
My nails dug into his flesh, legs clamped tight around his back as another climax spasmed through me.
“Fuck. Yes. So good.” His breath puffed hot against my neck as I felt him expand and freeze, then throb inside me.
Panting, he slid out of me and reached for a towel, cleaning us both off with gentle passes of the soft cloth. I’d never been much for cuddling, but with Sam? Lounging in bed in a post-sex haze was heavenly.
He rested his head on my belly, and I stroked his hair, loving the feel of the soft strands slipping through my fingers.
“You smell so fucking good.” He nuzzled my stomach, then kissed his way across my ribs.
I lightly scratched his scalp.
“I’m serious. You smell like a memory.” His voice had this dreamy post-orgasm quality to it.
“Like a memory of what?” Something good, I hoped.
“My childhood.” He closed his eyes, and I smoothed my fingers over his brows.
“Is it a good memory?”
He nodded, his hair caressing my hip. “When I was a little kid, I had anxiety. Not like run-of-the-mill stuff, more like nightmares and puking every day before school. Wicked bad. The guidance counselor wanted me referred to a therapist, but my grandmother said she’d handle it. She didn’t want me labeled or some shit.”
“Your grandma is a badass.”
His lips curled into a grin, his eyes still closed. “She was already into all her woo-woo stuff, so she gave me crystals and burned incense in my room to clear negative energies. I found the rituals calming, but not enough. So that’s when she taught me to meditate.”
“Oh cool. She taught me a little of that before my pie crust lesson.”
“She did? What did she teach you? Connecting to the light and running energy?”
“Yep. I was surprised how well it worked. Did it help you?”
“At first I had trouble concentrating, so she’d have me close my eyes and she’d talk me through it. She’d have me connect, then she’d tell me to picture myself walking up a golden staircase until I got to my own private garden. She told me to imagine everything about the garden—the trees, the sky, anything I wanted—using all my senses. And I still remember the smell. I didn’t know what the flowers were, but it was just this sweet smell that made me feel like...home.” His eyes opened, and he turned until his silver-blue gaze met mine. “That’s what you smell like.”
My heart fluttered. “Your magical garden?”
“Home.”
30
Phoebe
The soft opening of the gastropub went off without a hitch. Well, unless you counted the tray of glasses that bit the dust during an unfortunate collision. But I didn’t count that. It wasn’t a real restaurant until something got broken.
It was invite-only, a final test run of the menu and a thank you to local vendors and supporters, friends and family. Donations only, all of which went to the local food bank. Sam, Rose, and Iris were my guests. And Audrey and Griff got a sitter for the night, so I finally got to spend a few minutes with them.
I hadn’t had a chance to read all the comment cards yet, but the menu was definitely a hit. For the first time, I felt really certain the grand opening the following week was going to go smoothly.
Sam drove Rose and Iris home—they’d wanted to sample the new bar drinks as well as the food, so he’d insisted on playing chauffeur. And I went to my place to shower off a day’s worth of stress and kitchen smells. He’d told me he was taking me somewhere to celebrate and that I didn’t need to dress up but should wear something comfortable.
I kne
w Sam well enough to know that “comfortable” most likely meant something not difficult to take off. My hair was still loose and damp when he arrived. “Am I dressed okay?”
He ran his hands over my cotton T-shirt dress, cupping my ass and pulling me in for a kiss. “Perfect. You ready?”
“I guess. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. Bring a jacket or something. It’s a little chilly tonight.”
I grabbed a hoodie and followed him to his truck. “Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?”
“You really don’t like surprises, do you?”
I shook my head. “Not at all.”
“That’s too bad. Because I’m not telling you.”
I scowled, and he kissed me again. “You’ll know soon enough.”
We drove for about a half hour. It was dark out, and I had no idea where we were. I’d also been distracted because Sam had held my hand the whole ride, his thumb tracing circles on my wrist in a way that had me ridiculously hot and bothered. I was starting to wish we’d just stayed home. In bed.
“Okay, this is what we’re doing.” He turned into a gravel parking lot, and I saw the marquee sign.
“You’re taking me to a drive-in?”
He grinned. “I’m taking you to your first ever drive-in movie experience.”
I laughed. “Well, this is definitely a surprise.”
“Everyone has to go to a drive-in at least once.”
He paid, then drove around, finding us a spot not close to other cars, but still with a good view of the enormous screen. He fiddled with the radio until he found the station playing the movie’s soundtrack.
Touchstone Page 15
