The Way We Touch: or Wrangling the Wide Receiver (The Bradford Boys)

I almost kissed him.

I wanted to kiss him.

All night, I tossed and turned in my bed wondering if I made a mistake not going for it. What would he have done? Something he wouldn’t want to take back…

A shiver moves through my shoulders, and it definitely was not a mistake to leave. To run is more like it.

I can’t kiss Logan Murphy.

I can’t kiss him because he’s a football player, and even if that excuse is getting pretty weak in the heat of our growing attraction, he’s only here for a little while. Then he’s gone. I don’t want that kind of pain.

But every time I look at him, my muscles flash with adrenaline. My head gets light, and I’m hot around my ears. The intensity of his presence consumes me. He’s sexy and kind, and when he touches me… Lightning.

I definitely can not kiss Logan Murphy. I might never recover.

When I got home last night after taking care of my precious niece and making sure my older brother had dinner and was hydrated after a long day in the blistering sun, I’d planned to have the kitchen to myself.

I’d prepared to watch those old videos of me dancing at the height of my skill, my dreams of being the next Gelsey Kirkland oozing from every pore, permeating every step and facial expression. I was so damn earnest. I was going to open that old wound, have a good sob, maybe eat some ice cream, face those old demons then email Mrs. Laverne to say I’d take the job at the high school.

Then he emerged from the darkness like a fairytale prince on a mission to carry me out of that dark place and heal my broken heart. You’re very beautiful. You’re very strong…

Outside of my big brothers, I’ve never known a professional player who wasn’t just that—a professional player. They’re really into the game and the football-star swagger, the celebrity, and showing off their status as superjocks, and aren’t I so impressed?

Logan isn’t like that.

He’s easy to talk to, easy to tease, and surprisingly deep.

I’ve turned over what he told me about longing for something true all day. I’ve thought about him on the field with my brother, working with the boys, and encouraging them. I’ve thought about him talking about falling in love.

I’ve thought about his warm hand holding mine, his touch on my cheek while his heated gaze burned my skin as it moved from my cheeks, to my lips, to my breasts. He was electricity and warmth pulsing in my veins. He’s strong and skilled and thinly veiled desire.

We got so close…

“Have you boned him yet?” Craig’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts.

“Shit!”

He shakes his head, disappointed. “I can tell by that pensive look you haven’t.”

“I’m not going to bone my brother’s best friend.” I swipe my finger roughly across the face of the forgotten iPad.

“So you say.” He nods, like he’s waiting for me to confess what I was just thinking.

I’m not confessing anything.

It’s just the two of us at the restaurant this morning, getting ready to open. Allie is at school prepping the library for the fall. She took Kimmie Joy with her, because my little niece loves books, and she’s super Type A when you give her a project.

Also, even if she won’t admit it, Allie is in love with my brother, so naturally she wants to love his daughter as well. I guess that’s not always natural, but Allie is awesome.

I’m browsing hot pepper recipes on the Internet, searching for inspiration for next week’s Dare dish… when I’m not obsessing over Logan.

“I’ve decided to say yes.” His eyes light, and I quickly add. “To teaching ballet at the high school. If you can manage here without me during the day, that is. What do you think?”

His shoulders drop, he shakes his head. “Somehow I manage.”

“It’s only four days a week, a few hours in the afternoon. No Fridays.”

Puckering his lips, I worry he might argue with me. Instead, he lifts my hand off the counter and holds it in both of his.

“Can you do that?” Lowering his face, he catches my eyes.

“What do you mean?” I swallow the knot in my throat, lifting my shoulder and pulling my hand out of his.

“I was there, Dylan, I remember how you cried.” Reaching up, he slides a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’d only seen you cry that hard two other times.”

It’s true. If anyone would know how big of an ask this is for me, it would be Craig. His question is real, and I stop to really consider it. The ceiling fans turn overhead, and a lone seagull cries on the bay. I gaze out at the big, empty dining hall.

“I think I need to do it.” I remember Logan’s words when we talked last night. “I think teaching might help me heal.”

You’re very beautiful. You’re very strong… Maybe I just needed to hear someone say it? The conviction in his voice as he said the words, as he looked directly in my eyes, stirred something deep in my soul.

“Those kids will be so lucky.” Craig wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a hug. “You were good, Dylan. Real good. Legendary good.”

My breath tightens. “I loved it so much.”

“I didn’t.” His voice lightens. “I was just having fun.”

“Liar.” I pinch his waist, and he hollers, releasing me.

“You are so abusive.” He returns to sorting the menus. “I’m not lying. It’s why I’m still here. I loved dancing with you, but when it all comes down to it, this is my home. I never wanted to be a New Yorker. That was your dream, Balanchine.”

“Well, I never could have gotten that close without you.”

“Not true, but I’ll let you think that if you want.” He flicks his wrist.

“How can you possibly say it didn’t matter to you? You had so much style. Have you watched those videos lately? You were amazing.”

“Do you know how much money danseurs make?”

“Less than you make here?”

“At least I get tips here, and I wake up every day in paradise with people I’ve known all my life. Who wants to starve in a broom closet behind an elevator in New York?”

“That’s a very specific reference.”

“You know it’s true, though.”

My lips press into a smile, and I remember being at Jack’s yesterday morning. “Don’t the people make the place? You’d have been there with me.”

“That would’ve helped, but this is where I belong. Just look out there. The ocean recharges my battery.”

I gaze out the screen back door at the blue water. It’s a hot, full-sun day, and I can’t argue with him. Although, the blazing sun reminds me…

“Speaking of batteries, they’re adding solar panels to Miss Gina’s roof. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Can they do that to a historic building?”

“You are obsessed with that old lady. Why does she even need lights? She’s blind.”

Miss Gina Rosario lives in a massive home on the bluffs north of town overlooking the bay. It’s a beautiful, historic place with brick and wrought-iron fencing, travertine tiles, and a huge mermaid fountain out front.

Her well-established yard is full of succulents, tropical plants, gardenias, and crepe myrtles with trunks as thick as my waist. I’ve only been inside a few times, but I remember it even has an elevator.

“Her caretakers aren’t blind.” My voice is wistful. “I would love to live in that old place. Have you seen her gardens?”

“She’s never seen her gardens. How sad is that?”

“She can smell the flowers and the roses.” I chew my lip trying to remember the last time I visited her.

Her history is as obscured as her vision. My dad said her family were some of the original town founders, who came here and tried to form a utopian society. They shared the land and everything on it, but at some point it fell apart.

Another story is that she’s the descendant of old Spanish pirates who came to this area centuries ago. The story is her ancestors built that big house and buried treasure on the grounds. Even wackier is the suggestion that her father was a mafia kingpin or that she’s a lost Spanish princess.

She just laughs at the stories, says her father was a kind man, and never disputes anything. I suspect she enjoys the creativity of bored, small-town imaginations.

“She’s really sweet. Every time I see her, she tells me to come for a visit.”

“So go visit. Take the Peanut. Old people love little kids. Maybe she’ll leave you her big house.”

“Don’t say that. I really like Miss Gina.” I watch him pulling out the silverware. “But she is always so happy to have company.”

“Who rolled all of these?” He digs in the bin. “We’re set for a week at least.”

“Allie was nervous about Austin’s first day at summer camp. All the condiment bottles are filled, the salt and pepper shakers are topped off, the toilet paper is stocked. I think she even alphabetized the spices.”

“Shit, that’s who did it. Thomas was pissed. The man has a system.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Picking up the iPad, I turn my back to the counter. “So what’s going on with Closeted Clint?”

Craig stops, holding up a hand. “I told you we’re not calling him that anymore.”

“Has he told his family he’s gay yet?”

“No, but they’re very strictly religious. And his brother bullies him into silence.”

“You’re always criticizing my love life, yet you continue to date this guy.”

“He’s very… nice.”

“He’s got a big dick?”

He doesn’t answer, and I start to laugh, holding my nose so I don’t snort. “You are so ridiculous. You won’t let me date anybody, but you’ll stay with a guy who can’t be honest about who he is because he has a big dick.”

“And he knows how to use it.” He circles a finger around my face. “And there’s only one person I don’t want you dating. A certain golfer, who if he puts his hands on you again…”

“We’re not talking about that anymore.” I turn, starting for the door. “Can you cover the lunch crowd? I’m going to pick up Kimmie Joy and pay a visit to Miss Gina.”

“Of course.” He waves me away. “Tell Allie I appreciate her hard work, and she’s very smart to get close to your mini-me. Best way to bag the dad.”

“First, I think Allie really loves my niece, and two, wouldn’t she be great for him? He’s completely oblivious, of course.”

“Your brother needs to get over the past and see what’s right in front of him.”

His future…

“He’s so focused on those boys and that little girl, he’s forgotten how to be a man.”

“He hasn’t forgotten.” Craig slides up beside me. “And I know two people who can create happy accidents.”

Puckering my lips, I nod, thinking about this idea. “Put it on our to-do list. We’ll plan a meet-cute after I sort out my shit.”

“We can’t possibly wait that long.”

Shaking my head, I flip him the bird as I slip out the door.

“Dylan! What a lovely surprise!” Miss Gina sits on a black wrought-iron bench surrounded by a fragrant gardenia bush and several tall peace lilies.

Her white hair is gathered in a bun, and she smiles, her blue eyes gazing past me towards the sky like she’s seeing the angels.

I can tell Miss Gina used to be a great beauty. Even now with lines covering every part of her face, her smile has so much radiance and her features are so bright, she’s timeless.

“I’m sorry it’s been a minute since you invited me over. I’ve been pretty busy with the restaurant, then my brother Zane came home…”

“Oh yes,” Her smile dims. “I heard about that, poor man. People underestimate the importance of a good kicker, and he was one of the best.”

“How did you know that?” I exhale a short laugh. There’s no way she could’ve watched his games.

“My gardener Steven likes to keep up with all the local boys. He was a big fan of your father’s.”

“Oh right.” I nod, looking down. Everyone knew my dad.

Everyone was a fan, and after my mom died, when he started going down fast, they all surrounded us with love and food.

“Do you see something?” Kimmie Joy’s little voice is curious as she climbs onto the wrought-iron bench beside Miss Gina, turning her head to follow the old woman’s gaze.

“Who is this?” Delight fills Miss Gina’s tone, and her wrinkled, spotty hand feels around until she finds my niece’s. “Is this Kimmie Joy Bradford?”

“It is,” I smile, watching them.

“That’s such a beautiful name. How old are you now?”

“I’m five.” Kimmie nods her head side to side. “I’m starting kindergarten with Mrs. Patience in August.”

“What a perfect name for a kindergarten teacher.” Miss Gina pats her back. “Patience.”

“She’s also very young.” I lean closer to the old woman, lowering my voice. “Patience and energy.”

Miss Gina’s eyes close and she laughs almost like she’s remembering being that age.

“Do you really have an elevator in your house?” Kimmie traces her finger over the flower pattern of Miss Gina’s shawl.

“I do. Want to see it?”

My niece nods frantically, and I’m about to translate when the old lady stands. “Come with me.”

She waits for my niece to take her hand, then she leads her expertly across the patio to the French doors leading to the house. I don’t even ask how she does it.

“Aunt Deedee said you can’t see anything.” Kimmie hops along beside her. “Is it like the middle of the night all the time? I don’t think I’d like that.”

“It’s not my first choice.” Miss Gina takes her hand. “But it’s not darkness. More like a white sheet blocking out everything, like someone pulled the wool over my eyes.”

She chuckles like she cracked herself up. It’s so unexpected, it makes me smile.

“Like if I put a blanket over my head?” Kimmie asks.

“I think so.” The old lady opens the door and steps to the side for us to enter. “The downstairs was designed for entertaining. This is the formal living room, and behind it is the formal dining area. All the bedrooms are on the second floor.”

Her posture is straight, and she moves with confidence, motioning with her hands as if she can see perfectly. “And here is the elevator.”

She stops at the black, wrought-iron cage that has a small bench inside. “Want to ride it?”

“Yay yay yay!” Kimmie jumps up and down before running inside the ornate cage.

“Did you grow up in this house?” I watch as she directs my niece how to press the buttons.

“I lived here until I left for college at eighteen. Then my father died, and I moved back to take care of my mother when my sister left.”

“I didn’t know you went to college.” I try to imagine her navigating a campus the way she navigates this house.

I think about all those old stories about her, and they all seem so silly now. The only mystery that stands out is this house—and what I assume is the money to go with it. Maybe her family were descended from pirates. I’m pretty sure she’s not a Spanish princess, but who knows?

We stand beside the wrought-iron elevator shaft, and I watch as Kimmie rises to the second floor. “Come right back down,” I call to her, and she waves at me through the grated floor.

“We never had children here—other than my sister and me, of course.” Miss Gina’s tone is quiet. “When I was young, I never gave it any thought. Now that I seem to be outliving everyone, I’m beginning to understand that line about the kindness of strangers.”

“From Streetcar?”

“That’s the one,” she chuckles.

The elevator returns to the first floor, and Kimmie hops out when it stops. “Can I do it again?”

“Let’s go back outside.” I reach for her hand, but she takes off running ahead of us.

As we return to the patio, I think about her words. “Are you okay, Miss G? Do you need help with anything?”

“Well…” Her voice quavers. “My nurse is retiring. Steven is in his mid-seventies, and last week he said he’ll have to retire soon as well. I don’t know who I’ll get to help me with the roses and all my million repair jobs around here.”

When we walk outside, Kimmie has her face in a large rose bush. “They smell like roses!” She cries excitedly.

“That’s good!” The old lady laughs. “Sometimes they don’t smell like anything.”

Standing beside her, I think about her predicament. “I don’t know any nurses, but my brother Zane was always pretty handy. If you’d like, I could ask him if he’d be interested in helping you. He needs something to do.”

Reaching out again, she grasps my hand tightly in hers. “What a wonderful offer! I’m sorry if I sounded a bit maudlin just now. I was worried, but I trust your recommendation. Tell your brother, I’ll gladly pay him for his time.”

“If he can’t, I’ll ask around for you. We’ll find someone, don’t worry.”

“You are such a dear.” She holds my hand to her chest. “Don’t worry about the nurse. I have a new girl coming to live with me this fall.”

“You do?” My chin pulls in. “Who is it?”

“She’s a friend of my niece’s from Birmingham. She finished her degree in physical therapy, and she’s always wanted to live near the ocean.”

“Well, she’ll be in the right place for that. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“I think she’s about your age.” Her eyebrows rise, and she nods. “Maybe you can be friends. And knowing someone is lined up to replace Steven is such a relief. I have such a good feeling, like something wonderful is going to happen.”

“You sound like a mystic.”

She tilts her head to the side mischievously. “They say the blind have special gifts.”

“Is that true?”

Her face scrunches, and she leans closer. “No.” Then she chuckles, “but you live to be my age, and you start to notice patterns. Just wait and see.”