Page 30 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

“You may be sore tomorrow. Drink water, use whatever heat or cold your doctor has recommended, and try not to catch any more falling signs.”

Rocco’s gaze moves toward my wrist again.

“You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m sure.”

He nods, but the guilt remains.

I want to touch him. Not as his massage therapist. Not to locate pain or interpret the energy beneath it. I want to place my hand against his face and show him that I am not afraid. I keep my hands on the counter.

“Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

He turns to leave.

“Rocco?”

He pauses at the booth entrance.

“Your shoulder responded well. If you want another session while you’re here, ask me.”

His eyes hold mine across the lantern-lit space.

“No readings?”

“No readings.”

“No surprises?”

“I’ll announce every towel.”

The corner of his mouth moves. Then he leaves without answering.

I listen until his footsteps disappear beyond the booth. Only then do I look down at my wrist. I can still feel the imprint of his fingers, although no mark remains.

Rocco came to me because his shoulder hurt. But the pain is not what followed him onto my table. And it is not what nearly made him kiss me.

Chapter 6

Rocco

Ithanked Loralee before leaving her booth. Two words delivered while my shirt was caught on my shoulder and my body was still reacting to the feel of her hands. They were technically sufficient. She provided a service. The service helped. I expressed gratitude.

The fact that I am still thinking about it proves the words were not enough.

I cross the nearly empty festival grounds while my team completes the final sweep. The temperature has dropped into the low forties. Cold usually works its way beneath the scar tissue within minutes, tightening the muscles around my shoulder until turning my head becomes difficult.

Tonight, the joint moves without catching. Loralee did that.

Not the crystals she agreed to keep away from me. Not energy, intuition, or the other things she claims to sense. Training did it. Knowledge. Her hands moving across my back with enough skill to find the exact places where old injuries force healthy muscles to compensate.

Her hands.

I shut down that line of thought before my body follows it somewhere inconvenient.

At the eastern gate, I sign the closing report. Two employees remain on the overnight rotation. The local deputies will patrol the perimeter every hour, and motion-triggered cameras cover the storage entrance, stage, and vendor lanes. Everything is accounted for.