Chapter Eleven
Early in the morning, Sarah woke to a day blanketed by a deep, gloomy fog. It was so thick, she could barely see out the front door to the steps.
Closing the door behind her, the same as the day before, she found Ben waiting for her at the truck.
Last night, she’d seen him carry a duffle bag into Rio’s old bedroom, and knowing he was sleeping only steps away made her feet both safer and a little nervous.
She was glad her father was just down the hall and on the other side of the house.
Yet the images of their sensual encounter sent renewed shockwaves up her spine. She felt Ben again, felt his hands caressing her, felt his sturdy body, with his lips sweetly investigating hers. Felt her own wetness. Her hot as lava climax.
What the hell had she done? They’d only just met.
Dry humping like a horny teenager in a barn was not her usual style. That must not happen again. She would make certain it didn’t.
With effort, she shook off the memories. In a reflective moment, she tried to forgive herself. It had been a long time for her and she was human. A living, breathing woman.
After the sensuality, he’d prodded her to keep talking and finally she’d hit her limit. There was no way in hell she would tell him about that horrifying incident in her past. No way.
Coolly, she faced him now. “Morning. We’re going back to town.”
“Sure,” he said. “Do you have your weapons?”
She held up her purse, indicating she had her pistol, then took out the knife he’d given her.
He grunted in approval.
Again, he insisted on driving and this time they climbed into her truck. He started the engine. “While you’re doing your business, I’ll go talk to a few of the shopkeepers again.”
“That’s fine. Take me to Milly’s Diner, please.” She kept safely to her side of the cab. With visibility low, he drove through the heavy mist much slower than usual. Resisting the urge to study his features, she kept her gaze resolutely aimed out the front windshield.
When they passed Old Man Turner’s For Sale sign, she could barely make out the lettering.
She’d meant what she said last night. There could be no repeats of that kind. Already overwhelmed with all the events in her life, she couldn’t take one more thing. Besides, he was basically her bodyguard. She needed him to maintain his distance.
A woman of the world, Sarah well knew that moment wasn’t an end to itself. Inevitably it led to more, to the true, out-and-out nude physical act. Right now, at this troubled point in her life, she couldn’t deal with the physical.
At the diner, she jumped from the cab, and Ben said, “You know the drill. Stay inside. Do not leave. When you want to go, text me.”
“Got it,” she said. She needed girl talk, and this was the perfect place, and it would be with the perfect person.
Inside the diner, she glanced around and found Big Jim at the counter, chatting with another rancher, probably about weather forecasting or how the spring calves were faring—common ranch conversation.
A few of the tables were filled, with people calmly eating. Waitresses attended them, bringing extra napkins or fresh coffee.
Here, Sarah felt safe. No one could hurt her, surrounded as she was by friendly townsfolk, her dad, and with Ben not far away. In this familiar place, she was able to stop nervously looking over her shoulder for her stalker.
Milly spotted her. “Sarah! I’ll get your tea.”
Sarah waved at her dad and took an empty booth. “Milly, I really came in to see you. Can you sit with me?”
“Sure, dear. We’re not too busy right now. The other servers can handle this small crowd. I’ll get the tea and some decaf for me.”
Within a moment, she was back with their hot drinks, her apron flapping at her knees. On her feet, she wore cheeky animal print high top tennis shoes. Sarah barely gave them a glance. She was accustomed to Milly’s outlandish footwear.
Taking the opposite side of the booth, Milly leaned in. “How are you doing out at the ranch with that bodyguard? That Ben Paxton?”
“Oh, Ben?” Sarah bent to make a show of sipping her tea. “He’s fine.”
Milly’s shrewd eyes didn’t blink. “I practically raised you, remember?”
“Of course. You’re the closest thing to a mother I ever had.” She paused. “I’m just glad that now I’m older and we’re still best friends.”
“That’s right. And that means I know you better than most. Now, spill it, girl. What’s the deal with Ben?”
“There’s no deal,” Sarah rushed on, wide-eyed. “What sort of deal could there be? What do you mean?”
Milly rested her chin on her palm and assumed her wise mother smile. She didn’t say a word.
A long, uncomfortable moment passed.
“Okay,” Sarah relented. “Last night in the barn, he kissed me.” Milly didn’t need to know more than that.
“I knew it! I knew something would spark between you two.” As though looking for him, Milly glanced out the windows. The day was still dark, with thick wisps of fog haunting the air.
Sarah was suddenly glad she was safe, here in the diner. She shivered.
Milly went on. “That man is just too hot to ignore, and you’re just too beautiful. That’s dynamite and a lit match. I can read the handwriting on the wind.”
“Wall,” Sarah corrected absently. “So, you think he’s hot?”
“I do. Not in that slick male model way, not like those guys you posed with in Armani ads. Ben is big and strong, and he’s a man’s man.” She lay a hand over her bosom. “It’s the way he looks straight at a person when they’re talking to him. The way he exudes ... hmm, now what’s the word I want—”
“Competency? Confidence?”
“Thank you, those’ll do.” She leaned farther across the table and lowered her voice. “Now, tell me about the kiss.”
“Milly!” Sarah set her teacup down in its saucer with a snap. “No, I am not telling you ab—”
“Did he try to strangle you with his tongue, stick it all the way down your throat? I call that a Tarzan kiss.”
“No!” She sat bolt upright. “I really don’t want to—”
“That’s good. The way a man kisses a woman is important. Lotta girls don’t understand that. We don’t always need or want a Tarzan.”
Sarah rubbed her forehead. “Milly, I’m not discussing this.”
As though Sarah hadn’t spoken, Milly straightened the table’s salt-and-pepper shakers. “Like I said, Ben’s a hot guy. Gobs of testosterone in that one, I’m betting. Glad he didn’t jump you. So, was he gentle, then?”
Sighing in defeat, Sarah guessed that she would have to at least say something to shut the other woman up. “Yes, he was gentle.” She hesitated, remembering Ben’s careful, respectful embrace. “He was ... tender.”
Milly reared back, eyes wide. “Tender!”
Sarah frowned. “Yes. He was.”
“Oh, my lawd! The man was tender?” Her hands went to her cheeks.
“What wrong with that?”
“Wrong? Oh, honey, there’s nothing wrong.” She picked up her decaf and took a healthy swallow. “It’s just that ... well, tender, now that’s a whole ‘nother pan of wax.”
“Ball,” Sarah said without thinking. She was accustomed to Milly’s mixed metaphors.
“Ball?” Milly set her coffee down. “What ball?”
“It’s ball of wax. Not pan. So, what does that mean?”
“It means...” Milly lowered her voice again, glanced left and right. “It means he really cares about you. I mean really cares. A man who’s just feelin’ his cream of oats, he’ll just slap a girl with a Tarzan kiss.”
“Wheat,” Sarah corrected again. She looked down into her tea. She loved Milly, had long confided in her, and had never found a better judge of character. Milly was always right about these things. “Milly,” she said. “Ben and I just met yesterday.”
“So?”
“So, how could a man care much for a woman he doesn’t even know?”
“He’s already kissing you, isn’t he?” She tapped her fingernail on the table. “And doing it tenderly.” Folding her arms over her generous bosom, she sat back in the booth with the air of one who’d made a rock-solid point.
At that moment, a woman approached the table, pushing before her a teenaged girl.
Behind her lagged a man, probably the husband, turning a tattered straw hat around and around in his hands.
Resting in a sling wrapped around his chest lay a small baby, sound asleep.
With a careworn face and wearing a plain cotton dress which had seen many washings, the woman smiled apologetically. The teenager’s color was high.
“Miss Sarah,” the woman asked. “We don’t want to bother you none. But—but we was hopin’ to ask you for somethin’.”
“Yes?” Sarah looked up to smile at the woman and the girl.
“I’m Betsy. We know” —she thrust a thumb at the man behind her— “my Virgil and me, well, we know you’ve helped folks here and there around town. Folks that’s in need.” Behind her, Virgil went from foot to foot.
A distant memory surfaced. Suddenly, Sarah remembered the man. Virgil had stepped in to help her father years ago when Big Jim had broken his foot. Virgil arrived to plant the field, feed the horses and cattle ... and would accept no payment.
“You’re my neighbor,” Virgil had told Jim back then. “Gotta help out a neighbor.”
Sarah’s memory of his kindness sent warmth blooming through her. She smiled at him. Virgil was a good man.
Now, Betsy carried on. “Anyway, young Daisy here, our daughter, is wantin’ to go to college real bad. And she got in! Go on, Daisy. Tell Miss Sarah.” She gave her daughter a little shove.
For a moment, the girl was unable to speak. Bug-eyed, she stared at Sarah with a mixture of awe and horrified embarrassment. “I got accepted, Miss Sarah,” she whispered at last. “To the University of Montana. All the way over in Missoula.”
“Congratulations, Daisy,” Sarah said warmly. “I wish I’d gone to college. What do you want to study?”
“Nursing,” she answered promptly, a bit of confidence creeping into her manner. “I want to help others.”
Betsy edged Daisy aside. “See, Miss Sarah, we don’t have the money.
Not for Daisy’s first year, anyway. We ain’t asking for all four years, no, ma’am.
Just the first year. Just for tuition. Daisy can live with my sister in Missoula, so she don’t need room and board.
And it’s just the first year. After that, Virgil and I’ll be on our feet.
I just got a job working at the animal hospital cleanin’ cages and the like, so that’ll help a lot.
We gotta pay bills first, for the baby.” She indicated the small child in Virgil’s arms. “Our Daisy wants to get educated. Virgil and me, we didn’t do that. For our girl, we’re hopin’ for better.”
Sarah held out her hand to Daisy, who took a shy step forward. Sarah covered the girl’s small palm with both of hers. “Daisy, you’re right, college is important. Are your grades good?”
“Yes, I have all A’s.” She glanced at her mother and father, and they both beamed.
“That’s fine, then,” she said. “I’ll pay for your first year of college, okay? But you have to promise me you’ll keep your grades high, or I won’t keep paying. No hard partying or skipping class. Understood?”
A smile like an opening spring bud flowered on Daisy’s face. “Oh, really? You really will? I’ll get to go to college?”
“Better start packing for Missoula.” Sarah smiled. “Betsy, please have the college send me the bill.”
Daisy squealed, her mother squealed, and Virgil raised his grateful gaze skyward. Sarah noticed that he had a front tooth missing.
Betsy clasped her hands together and tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes.
“Oh, thank you, ma’am. You’re as pretty as an angel, we all knew that.
And so famous. Our own celebrity, right here in Mountain Wood!
But you’re also as kind as everyone says.
You are an angel, Miss Sarah. You’re from heaven. We can’t thank you enough.”
The three moved away, chattering. For the entire exchange, Milly had sat silently smiling. Finally, she said, “You sure you’ve got enough money to last through getting the feed store up and running? We can’t have you giving it all away.”
Sarah shrugged. “I’m going to have to crunch some numbers, figure it out. If any more of the townspeople need financial help, I won’t make it. It’s hard to say no when I’ve made such a fortune and some have so little.”
“You’ve a good heart, Sarah,” Milly said, her blue eyes warm. “You really are the daughter I never had.”
“And you really are my mother,” Sarah returned softly. For a moment, they simply sat together, enjoying their long history. Their bond couldn’t be stronger if they were bound by blood.
At the counter, Big Jim turned toward them. His eyes landed on Milly and he frowned, raised his coffee cup.
Milly got to her feet. “The natives are getting restless. Gotta run.” She went behind the counter to get fresh coffee. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said.
“What does a man have to do to get waited on?” Jim grumbled. “Shoot off a cannon?”
“I have other customers, Jim Lang, so don’t be yelling at me like I’m your personal waitress.” She poured him the hot brew.
“The way you were sitting over there yakkin’ with Sarah, why, anyone wouldn’t ever know you worked here. Why don’t you do that on your free time?”
As Milly shot back with a new, saucy response, Sarah listened in amusement.
Others at the counter chuckled, and a lightbulb burst to light inside her head.
Those two weren’t bickering. They were flirting!
So accustomed all these years to their banter, why hadn’t she noticed before? They were sweet on each other.
Interesting.
Sarah sipped her cooling tea and like Milly’s coffee, a sneaky idea brewed in her head.