15
Well,if he was worried about tipping his hand too early, he could put that aside. Apparently he was incapable of playing it cool and easy with this woman. He couldn’t have made it clearer that he’d been killing time when it came to romantic relationships over the past decade.
Made even more asinine by the fact that he hadn’t believed Emmy was ever coming back to North Carolina, much less to him. He was known as the good-time guy around town. He’d been willing to stay in the shallows rather than go deep with someone who wasn’t Emmy.
“Cash, I’m not sure—”
“We didn’t come up here to do this,” he cut in, because damned if he wanted to hear what might come out of her mouth. Yes, she’d made it clear that the attraction went both ways. That hadn’t died over the years. If anything, it had become more potent, more powerful. “Climbing the water tower is about having an experience. Something that’s worthy of checking off your list.”
Her mouth lifted on one side. “I thought you said the tower couldn’t handle that kind ofexperience.”
“I want you to close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Stop being suspicious and just close your eyes.”
She did, and he used the reprieve to mentally untangle the knot tied in his gut. “Now straighten your back a little. Head over heart. Heart over pelvis.”
“Oh, we’re not—”
“Shut up and do it, Emmy.”
She gave a cute little grunt, but she clamped her mouth closed and sat up with an alert yet relaxed posture. A natural.
“Good. Now I want you to concentrate on your breathing. Nothing else exists in this minute except for your breath. In and out. In and out.”
Her breasts rose with each inhale and fell on the exhale, but Cash couldn’t let himself become enthralled with her body right now. That wasn’t what this was about. “Now, notice where you feel your breath the most. In and out of your nose. Along your upper lip. In your belly.”
“Cool against my skin,” she murmured.
“Good. Mentally count one on the inhale. Two on the exhale. It’s a continuous cycle. Never ending.” Kind of like his feelings for her. “Just a circle of breath, effortless and connected. If you find your mind is wandering somewhere besides your breathing, pull it back again,” he said. “Be easy with it. Don’t judge. Just bring it back.”
The tension in Emmy’s hands released and they unfurled along her thighs. The tightness he’d noticed around her eyes and mouth when he picked her up began to smooth.
“Keep breathing. Doesn’t have to be deep breaths. Just natural, easy breaths. Move into them. Ride your breath.”
He talked her through a ten-minute meditation session before saying, “Now, slowly transition your awareness away from your breath and back into the now. Hear the sounds of the birds and the feel of the breeze on your skin. Wiggle your fingers and when you’re ready, slowly open your eyes.”
When she finally opened them, she turned toward Cash with a glazed gaze. “Oh my God. That might’ve been better than sex. I feel so relaxed. Like multiple orgasm relaxed.”
Great. He’d just meditated her out of her frisky mood.
“Is that how you do it?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“How you surf through life. How long have you practiced meditation?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Dad discovered that leading Shep through guided meditation helped his anxiety when we were kids. I used to sit with him and do it, too. Convinced him it wasn’t something he should do just because he was different. That it was normal. I dropped away from the practice for several years. And then when I was living out in LA, I got back into it.”
“Can you teach me?”
“It’s really not that complicated…”
“This is part of what I’ve been missing. I have this stupid, short list of fun. But I never slow down long enough to do any of it. Even if I do, I’m all about checking off the damn box. That’s not fun. It’s just another kind of work.”
Why couldn’t she seem to see that being alive was inherently fun?