Chapter Twenty-Six
Sarah’s beautiful eyes were swimming, and tears made uneven trails down her cheeks. Ben knew she had to finish her story, but he hated how it hurt her. He rubbed the backs of her hands. “I’m sorry, Sarah. Both of you were foolish.”
“Foolish!” She jerked, swiped away the tears. “That’s putting it way too nicely. We were far past that. We were idiotic. The chances we took...” She hesitated, then whispered, “Sometimes I wonder if it should have been me.”
“Survivor’s guilt,” he said gently. “It’s a bitch. Just remember, Sarah, it could have been you. You were lucky. And Mira didn’t die because of you.”
“I should have stopped her” —she barely got out the words— “when I knew she’d had too much. I—I could have saved her.”
“No, Sarah, you couldn’t have. Sounds like she was a junky. If she hadn’t overdosed that night, it would have happened on another. Stop taking this on yourself.”
“How, Ben?” She searched his features. “How do I do that?” Not waiting for his answer, she surprised him by getting to her feet.
“In my mind, I call that night the incident. Sounds silly, huh? To call a human being’s tragic death something so trivial.
” She gave a garbled laugh, but there was no humor in the sound.
“I haven’t told any of this to Big Jim. Or Rio. I don’t want them to know.”
He stood with her. “If they find out, it won’t be from me.”
“I’m grateful. Thank you for listening. Now you know my shame.” She hunched a shoulder away from him. “I’m turning in.”
“Wait, Sarah.” He held out a hand.
“I’m exhausted, Ben.” She kept moving. “I’ve been scared with all that’s going on. It’s not fun to have some stranger want you dead and never knowing when he’ll come for you. So ... thank you.”
“I’ll keep you safe.”
“I know. Just right now I need to be alone. Good night.” Before he could say another word, she was down the hall and closing her bedroom door.
At his sides, he closed his fists. He ached for her, for her guilt, for her grief in losing her friend, and even for her shame. If he could have taken any of the burden onto himself, he would have.
At least she’d finally told him.
The only thing he could do was try to wash away part of her memories with his affection. With himself. His body. And the only way to do that was through lovemaking.
Sarah’s bedroom door remained closed.
Ben turned off lamps and headed for his own room.
After the long day working, he took a hot shower, dried off, and wrapped another towel around his waist. Standing in his doorway, he strained to hear anything from Sarah’s room, any movement, perhaps the sounds of weeping.
But he heard nothing. Could she be asleep already?
On bare feet, he padded to her door and reached for the knob. In midair, he stopped.
Sarah had not invited him in. If she wanted him, she would have made it clear, and she’d done no such thing. She’d said she needed to be alone. He had no right to push. Wasn’t she a guest in his home? Wasn’t he responsible for protecting her and not seducing her?
Resting his arm on the molding, he put his forehead on his arm and squeezed his eyes shut. On just the other side of that block of wood was the woman of his dreams. In need. In pain. Everything in him urged him to comfort her in the most fundamental way possible.
He wanted her desperately and the erections bedeviling him ever since meeting her were becoming an unbearable problem. Not since he was a teenager had he found it necessary to jack off so often. Even now, the towel at his waist was barely staying closed over his ramrod stiff hard-on.
With superhuman effort, he forced himself off her door and took a step backward. Then another. Slowly, haltingly, he retreated until he was inside his own room.
Falling onto his mattress, he landed on his back, the towel flung aside, one leg hanging off the bed.
For most of his adult life, he’d had little trouble coaxing women into bed.
When he’d wanted someone, he made his play, was often successful, and that was that.
The few times he’d struck out, he racked them up to a low failure count and moved on.
Never once did he look back, not at any of those women.
If that made him wicked, then he guessed he was. Wicked Ben, his office staff called him? He probably deserved it.
With Sarah, he didn’t want to coax her into anything. He wanted her full consent, her full passion. That she hadn’t offered herself to him yet was beyond frustrating.
One thing was certain, he didn’t want to be wicked anymore.
An errant thought brought him upright in bed. Was Sarah holding herself apart because she was involved with another man? Could it be her neighbor, Travis Butler? Ben rubbed his jaw. Travis had warned him off like a big bull pawing the ground, and she’d left happily for her date with him.
Yet when Ben had driven Butler home after getting sideswiped, Sarah had been concerned about him, but not overly so. She hadn’t otherwise mentioned Butler, nor had Big Jim.
Ben rubbed his jaw. That evening after their knife-fighting lesson in the barn she’d certainly responded. The interlude had been smoking hot. Maybe he was hunting for excuses that didn’t exist. Maybe Sarah just needed more time to decide he was the right man for her.
Easing back onto the pillow, he reluctantly decided that if she needed more time, he’d give it. There was no other option, because one day soon she’d understand the irrefutable fact that he was the man for her.
He’d just have to wait.
****
Ben woke to the sound of an egg cracking against the side of a bowl, and he smelled sausages frying. Sarah had apparently gotten up before him and started cooking. Ben smiled. He loved her food, and she loved cooking. They were a great match.
Bounding out of bed, he showered, shaved, dressed for work, and took a seat on a kitchen barstool.
“Morning, sleepy head,” Sarah said, flipping the biggest, fluffiest pancake he’d ever seen. His stomach rumbled. “How are you?”
“Starving,” he said. “How’d you sleep?”
Today she’d gathered her hair in a band, where it hung to her waist as thick as a horse’s tail.
“After I spilled my guts to you last night, I thought I’d never get any rest, but the second my head hit the pillow I was out.
” She eased two pancakes onto a platter with fat sausages and handed him the plate.
A cube of softened butter and a bottle of maple syrup were already on the counter. “Eat up.”
“Aren’t you having any?” he said, lifting a fork.
“Oh, I already ate.” She waved her spatula and dumped the pan into a sink filled with soapy water.
Ben shoved a huge bite into his mouth and chewed.
It was delicious. Glancing around, he didn’t see an extra plate, and on the drain board was only a water glass with a cut lemon inside.
Last night she’d barely eaten any dinner, and this morning he saw no evidence that she’d had anything other than her lemon water.
He wondered if she really did think she was getting fat.
He let his eyes wander down her slender back to her shapely rear end and thought that if she was fat, give him fat any day of the week.
While she worked, he finished off his plate and then got up to help. He’d much prefer to stay home with Sarah, maybe spend time convincing her his bed was the exact right place to be.
Reluctantly, he said, “We have to go. I’ve got a lot of work today.”
“Let me grab my bag,” she said, and followed him to the garage. He dried a plate and set it into the cupboard.
“One of the new guys, Stevens, is a tech expert,” Ben said, opening the passenger door. He helped her inside even though she didn’t need it. He just liked touching her. “Yesterday I gave him a job to do. It’s a little surprise for you.”
“Really?” She smiled. “Sounds like fun. If the surprise is a happy one, I’ll like it.”
Ben hesitated, enjoying her smile after her tears of the night before. Odd, but he was beginning to live for her happiness.
He shook himself. “When we get in, I’ll contact Chief King up in Mountain Wood, see if there’s been any progress in finding the guy that stabbed Annie Smith.” He started the car and headed out of the garage. “Or if they’ve found the asshole who ran you off the road.”
“I’ll call Milly, or at least email her again,” Sarah said. “It’s been two days since we’ve chatted, and I already miss her. I miss my baby chicks, my dogs, my horses, and mostly my dad.”
“Sorry about that,” he said. “But I had to get you out of there. It wasn’t safe.” He pulled onto the highway. “Chief King might have a good report.”
****
When they arrived at the Paxton Security compound, they were greeted by an agitated Stevens. The young man vibrated with excitement. “Boss, wait’ll you see the setup. Got the equipment last night after work, been at it for hours this morning getting everything ready.”
Marge stood up from behind her desk. She set both hands on her desk. “Stevens called me at four A.M. this morning.” She glared at him. “I still have no idea how he got my number.”
Stevens didn’t look ashamed. He raised both his palms. “The Internet.”
“Anyway,” Marge said, “he wanted me to let him in here early, so he could get to work. I said not without permission, buddy. So I texted Rio, who was awake feeding one of the twins, and he said it was okay. I’ve been here since four-thirty this morning.” Sourly, she looked at Simmons again.
“All right,” Ben said, ushering Sarah into his office. “Thanks for the extra effort, Marge. Stevens, I’ll be over there in a minute.”
Sarah allowed herself to be pushed into the office, but she didn’t ask what they were talking about. He was glad because he wanted to surprise her.
“Have some coffee,” Ben suggested, “look at your email, rest up. I’ll be back in a little while, okay?”
“Wait! Where’s my surprise?”
“Just stay here. I’ll be back.” He grinned.