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Miz’s simmering burn. He was sick. An aura of doom surrounded him. He slumped.
    “It’s pretty outside today.” She crossed to where he sat staring out the window, laid her hands on his shoulders and began to rub.
    “You ride that contraption of yours here?”
    “Sure did. The wind felt good against my face.”
    “Elliot wants one of those things. I say they’re dangerous.” He sat straighter, letting her stroke her hand down his spine as she pressed her fingers on key points.
    “Yep, they can be tricky if you don’t use good sense.” She concentrated on his shoulders while he assured her his grandson had more than his share of good sense.
    “He’s going to be an engineer, you know.” Yes, she knew. Mr. Ogliah mentioned it each time he spoke of Elliot.
    “Have you been taking your medicine?”
    “Of course,” he answered defensively and she knew he hadn’t.
    “Why don’t you stretch out on the bed and let me massage your back.”
    “I feel better already.” He stood and smiled. His slump was gone. He flexed his arm and grinned. “Almost good as new.”
    She patted his shoulder. “I promise I’ll be gentle when I have my way with you.” She gave him a playful leer and he slipped out of his shirt and stretched across the mattress, situating his frame slowly.
    “You’re stiff. Maybe a little sore from the stress on your body. Just relax while I tweak your parts.”
    It was a joke she told all the old dears who wondered about their sudden improved flexibility. “Just a tweak here and there, a tune-up now and then,” she’d explain. They didn’t question. Most nodded and didn’t wonder long about how the tweaking worked. They didn’t care. They were just glad that it did.
    And so was she. Her gift was an odd thing. She gave for the most part, but she took too. The giving kept her stable, the taking—well, taking made her burn and writhe with power, as if untapped energy lay inside her waiting to escape.
    She massaged Mr. Ogliah’s back, centering her hand over his heart before she closed her eyes. His blood crawled slowly through arteries and veins. Her fingers danced across his skin, tracing a vein along its path. She skipped forward, jumping ahead to clear obstacles from the trail. He groaned.
    “You know, Mr. Ogliah, if you don’t take that blood thinner the doctor prescribed, you’re not going to get to see Elliot graduate.” Elliot was the center of his world. The kid was off at college and Mr. Ogliah was pining.
    “Maybe when you’re strong again, you can go visit him.” She pressed harder on his back, spreading her heat, purging the obstructions, opening a partially clogged vein and clearing his arteries. Along with a little extra heat, she planted a few ideas in his head.
    * * * * *
     
    It was seven fifteen when she hit the road home. Long day, extra money, hot man waiting with a steak to feed me. Things were looking up. She snickered, remembering up . She hadn’t needed to measure his hands to see he was huge or to know he was damn proud of his size.
    The heat inside her core intensified. It had been a while since she’d had a lover—too long a while. But she’d already laid hands on this man, pretty damn near all over his body too. He didn’t hold any big secrets or nightmares he’d want to tell her. She smiled. She had a date.
    She stopped at a convenience store and picked up creamer and other breakfast supplies before she crossed the mountain. You never know, I might need to cook for two in the morning. She grabbed a box of condoms too. Who was she kidding? That had been above the creamer on her list.
    She was home by seven thirty, in the shower by seven thirty-five, drying her hair by seven forty-five and doing her nails by eight o’clock. Goose walking on her heels to keep from smearing the ruby polish, she went outside, sat in the Adirondack chair and propped her feet on the railing of the porch. As the last rays of the day baked the gloss on her toes, she admired