Sarah gave them a weak wave.“See you all tomorrow.”
In low voices, they murmured goodbyes.
Because she was lost in self-recrimination and blame, Ben guessed that’s why she allowed him to guide her so meekly outside to his truck.On the bench seat, he pulled her to him and kept his arm around her shoulders.They were shaking.He hadn’t seen her like this before, yet all the signs were there; the damn was about to burst and he wanted to get her home before the floodgates opened.
On the way, Sarah called her dad.Big Jim was relieved they knew what had happened.He admonished her to take care of herself.
She kept her composure until he pulled into his garage.Then suddenly she bent at the waist, her hands going to her face, and began to sob.
Ben put the truck into park and closed the garage door before getting out.He came around to the passenger side and gently took Sarah’s wrists to tug her out.Her weeping grew in intensity.“C’mon, Sweet Pea.”He led her through the door, enabling the security system and taking her to the kitchen.Her tears must have blurred her vision, because she stumbled.He held her upright.
Urging her to sit at the table, something inside him twisted.He hated to see her like this.Everything in him wanted to protect her from bodily harm, and from any and all things that might hurt her inside, too.Now, her pain was his pain.
When she was seated, he went to a cabinet and grabbed a bottle of chardonnay.Opening it quickly, he poured a glass and put it before her.For himself, he hooked a beer from the fridge with two fingers.Sitting beside her, he rubbed her back and nudged the glass toward her.
“It’s not cold.Still, it’ll do you good.”
“Ben,” she said sniffling, “what if someone is killed because of me?What if somebodydies?”
“Take a sip and I’ll tell you,” he directed her.
When she complied, he said, “Now, listen.None of this is due to anything you’ve done.And nobody will die.This bastard coming after you is now chasing his own tail.Meanwhile, law enforcement in Mountain Wood and surrounding counties are on high alert and breathing down his neck.We’ve removed you from the threat, and he doesn’t know where you are.He’s frustrated because he can’t move freely, but mostly because you’ve disappeared.That’s why he picked a defenseless dog.He can’t get at you.”
“I hate that he’s doing this,” she said on a low wail.“I hate not knowing who it is.Or why.”
“Whether it’s Ridley Kemper or anyone else, he’ll never get to you, Sarah.Never.I’m standing between you and him, understand?”Though they were still sitting, he pulled her into his arms and forced up her chin so she looked directly at him.
She searched his eyes.“You’ll protect me, Ben, I know that.Um ...what about the people and the animal this guy has already harmed?He might hurt someone else!I can’t bear thinking about it.”A fresh tear trickled down her cheek and he thumbed it away.
With her exotic eyes bloodshot, her nose stuffy, and her face blotched, with the deep blue bruise marring her temple, even so, to him she’d never looked so searingly beautiful.This was a woman who trulycaredabout others in her orbit.In recent years, he’d admired her photograph, lusted over her commercial ads, and longed to have her.
Now that he knew her, his attraction to her kept climbing, rising like a never-ending elevator.She was real, with hopes and fears and all the characteristics of fundamental humanity.Right then, she was more concerned about others than herself.There was no doubt in his mind that she could use his strength.The woman in need called fiercely to the man in him.
The man in him responded.
He couldn’t help it, couldn’t control his body.In his jeans his hard-on lengthened and grew full.
During the last days, he’d grown a deeper connection to the person Sarah actually was, so much so that even her outer beauty paled in comparison to her intellect, her compassion, and her current tears notwithstanding, her customary joy.
Over the past few years, a string of women had filed through his world.Perhaps not oddly, they were always tall, blonde, and striking.He guessed he favored a type—her type.Still none of them wereher.None were Sarah.Marge had called him wicked, and he hoped Sarah never discovered the reason.All those other females were mere stand-ins.
At last, her weeping slowed.She wiped away tears and took a sip of her wine.
“Are you hungry?”Ben asked.It was nearly dinnertime.
“No.I’m still full from lunch.Anyway, I don’t think I could eat tonight.My stomach is upset.”She studied her glass of wine.“Funny, but I still want this.”She gave a watery chuckle.
He smiled.“Want to watch a movie?”
“Sure.But I may fall asleep in the middle.”
He eyed the black leather couch in front of the television.Sarah falling asleep in his arms sounded like something wonderful, something magic that might happen in Heaven.
“I won’t mind,” he said, underplaying his thoughts.“What do you want to watch?”
“I don’t know.A light film.Like a chick flick.”
When he rolled his eyes, she laughed again.He would have preferred an action movie featuring military missions, but if she wanted a romantic movie, she’d get it.“How about The Notebook?”he asked.
