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"You've said that," she muttered mutinously.
He handed her the lemonade. That slip she wore played all kinds of tricks on his imagination. Tricks he didn't want to think about. He needed to get some clothes on her, and right away.
He set his drink down and went into his bedroom. Minutes later he came out with a t-shirt and pair of jeans.
"Why don't you take those into the bathroom and try them on. It might be a little big, but at least it will be decent." He suggested, taking the cuffs off her wrists and unthinkingly rubbing them for a second. Something clicked for a minute when she turned her pert little nose in the air, and her green eyes flashed at him, but he cleared his throat and turned his attention to his handcuffs. When her eyes widened and she looked at what he was doing, he fumbled and moved away.
"They belonged to my sister. She's taller and rounder than you, but you look like you might be able to manage."
"Where's the bathroom?" she asked peering about the place with idle curiosity, and a frown as big as Texas on her face.
"Straight through the hallway on the end." He motioned, trying not to look at her again.
He definitely didn't like what this lady was doing to him. The way her little tush swished back and forth down the hallway, had him reacting in a most basic way. A reaction he'd prided himself well under control. At least until she walked into his life. Standing there rubbing her wrists as though he regretted putting the cuffs on her. It was his job, he had to protect her from herself.
Well, he did. Despite the fact that he was as about as far from wanting a woman around as anyone could get, he found himself intrigued by this little misfit. She seemed so vulnerable but he couldn't quite put a finger on why. She looked so damned innocent all the time. No one was that innocent, he warned himself.
He went to the back door and let his hound in, Little Bit whined, his tail whipping about happily that his master was home. Ben patted him and fed him, then settled back into the living room. He checked his mail, got the paper off the porch and sat back in his easy chair. It felt so good being home.
He rubbed his chin absently. He still hadn't shaven. He didn't like beards, but he hadn't had time to shave and catch the bus back to Junction.
It was a long time before she came out again. But when she did Ben was astonished. She looked so different. Gone was all the grit and grime, replaced by a face that wore little or no make-up, hair that shone like varnished pine, and eyes wide and mysterious. The clothes didn't exactly fit either. The t-shirt hung loosely to her upper thigh, but the jeans were tight and showed every curve of her hip. Nice hips too, he noticed.
And his groin tightened like a silly schoolboy with his first crush. She was cute as a button and he couldn't stop the immediate attraction he felt.
Still she was in protective custody, and he began to wonder just how many might be out looking for her this very minute.
"Well now, you look decent again. Glad you had enough sense to take a shower," he muttered, trying his best not to notice that all of her curves seemed to stick out at him and yet he was more fascinated than ever with what he saw in her.
"Sorry for using your facilities, but I was a mess. You could have told me how dirty my face was, you know."
"Wasn't any of my business. You can call me Ben, I have a name, too you know," he barked not looking at her. He didn't like what looking at her did to him.
"No, I'll stick with Sheriff, it fits you better." she said with a deliberate sting.
"Whatever," he muttered. "While we're at it, what's your name?"
"Savannah Kingsley."
"Savannah Kingsley." He rolled the name over for a second. It sounded aristocratic. It sounded like money to him. Judging from that piece of dress it had to be money, another reason to stay far away from her. She was a blue blood, and he was a blue collar.
"I guess you're hungry?" He asked after a few minutes of sizing her up. It was his job to figure people out, but this little lady was a puzzle.
Savannah shrugged, "A little."
Just then he heard a strange rumbling, it was her stomach, and she clutched it as though it had spoken out of turn. He smiled.
"Sounds like it. Sit down and enjoy your lemonade. After I shave, I'll rustle us up some grub." He said and laid the paper down.
He needed an excuse to get out of there anyway. The living room seemed so tiny since she came out of the bathroom all scrubbed up and smelling sweet. It was probably that damned lavender soap Mrs. Johnson was always laying out for him. Didn't she know men didn't use lavender soaps?
He went into the bathroom, still smelling the soap, and trying his best to ignore it. As he shaved he warned himself not to get involved with this little gal. She might be great as a roll in the hay, but she had that, "I want marriage and kids," look about her.
This was definitely the kind of woman he needed to stay away from. No problem, he thought to himself with satisfaction, she'd be gone as soon as he got her car taken care of.
There was cold fried chicken in the refrigerator and potato salad, he remembered as he walked through the house to the kitchen in the back. He brought it out and set the table. Unused to having company, he tried to make the table look a little nicer, even to the point of putting a daisy in water and in the middle of the table. He grew daisies out in the front and every now and then would bring them in to brighten the place. He had a weakness for flowers he had to admit.
"It's ready if you're hungry," he called to her some time later.
