Page 10 of Keeping Her Safe

“People are always staring at them. Since the day they came in, it has been the first thing people notice about me: Zephyr with the red hair and big boobs. Strangers look and comment. I never go out without a bra on; they bounce when I walk. If I have another layer, maybe it wouldn’t be as bad, but I really don’t want to go to an airport with just this shirt on,” she answered, never taking her eyes off the passenger window.

“I never knew.” Zachary put his hand on her shoulder. He could hear the pain in her voice.

“That I had big boobs?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“I knew that, Zephyr. I have been well aware of that for years. I didn’t know that they could be a curse and not a blessing. Most women don’t have the problem of people staring all the time, but maybe it isn’t the boobs that people are staring at,” he said, not taking his hand off her shoulder.

“Thanks. So apparently, I’m so weird, people cannot help but stare at me.” She turned back towards the window.

He saw his words hurt her, and he saw her eyes had filled with tears before she turned back to the window.

“Zephyr Hart, you are a beautiful woman. The first thing I notice about you is your glorious red hair. You have absolutely no control of it, and it flies everywhere. Even when you have it tied back, there are always strands that get away. Then I notice your pale skin. It reminds me of the cream I pour in my coffee in the morning. You never tan; you just turn red. You have three known freckles, not like some redheads. Three: one by your lip, one on your ear, and one on your left shoulder.” He touched the freckle on her shoulder to emphasize the point.

“Then I’m usually consumed by these giant blue eyes of yours. I have yet to meet anyone with eyes that are so light blue, but there’s a dark ring around them right at the outside edge. Then sometimes I get to see you smile and sometimes, just sometimes, that smile actually makes your eyes twinkle. That’s when I know you’re really happy.”

He knew he had said too much. He was actually telling her what he saw every time he looked at her, except the parts where he wanted to bury his hands in her hair and see if it would curl around his fingers on its own. Nor did he mention how he wanted to touch her pale skin to see the difference in their skin tones. Would the combination really look like that split second after he poured creamer in his cup, where light and dark haven’t combined yet, just swirled together?

They had been driving for almost an hour, and he was just realizing that he had not buttoned his pants before getting in the car. If she looked away from the window and looked at his crotch, she would see how much just looking at her got to him. His penis was well beyond half-mast, and he wondered how he would get it under control.

“But then you notice the breasts because they are a big part of me,” she said playfully.

Though she didn’t turn from the window, he knew she was making a joke. She had actually said a joke.

“Oh, honey, I know they’re there. I’m not supposed to notice, but I have.” He laughed.

CHAPTER 5

Was the car getting hot, or was it just her? Had Zachary looked at her breasts because they were there or because he wanted to? The shoulder he was touching got chilled when he pulled his hand away. She had no idea what to say, so she kept silent, and he also let the car be quiet.

The sun had risen, and the colors and sights of the countryside met her eyes. As the miles ticked by, she looked out the window at each passing house. Yards, garages, barns, sheds, each was unique, and each was the same. Some were interesting enough that a story of its occupants, past or present, ran through her mind. One old house caught her eye, and she wondered if the family that lived there noticed it needed paint or had they just bought it and hadn’t had time to do the work yet? Each new house was a thirty-second story in her mind before she passed another, and the last one was forgotten.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Zachary’s voice was loud after the long silence.

“Whether the people in these houses notice us as we drive by. Do they glance up and listen to the sound of our tires on the road? Do they look out the window to see if it is anyone they know, then be slightly disappointed when it is a stranger? Do they not even notice the sight or sound anymore, just another car passing by just like the last one, and another one will be here soon?” she wondered out loud.

“All I am thinking is that’s a nice house, and that one is not. Nothing deep,” he replied.

“I wonder what it would have been like to grow up in that house. Would I have had a bedroom upstairs? Would I have had a horse? A dog? Maybe just a cat. What would it be like to live in it now? Would I think I should paint it? Mow the lawn? How would I have gotten to the point of buying it, would I own it? How would my life be today if I had been raised there?” she said as more houses passed the windows.

“That’s why you’re a writer, Zephyr. I’ve never thought about any of that. Ever.”

She looked over at him. “I’m a writer because I have never done anything else.”

“What was the worst job you ever had, Zephyr?” he asked to keep her talking.

“Writing,” she answered honestly. “You?”

“When I was sixteen, I worked at a burger shack on the beach. I made the French fries. Hottest, grossest job ever. War was better than that job,” he replied with a laugh. “Best job?”

“Writing,” she answered again, smiling this time. “You?”

“Being a cop. I love it. Being a beat cop wasn’t as much fun as being a detective. I love helping people. Sometimes it gets to me when the bad guy gets off, but then I just have to get him again for something else.”

His smile always made her heart beat faster. She didn’t get to see it much. She could count on both hands the number of times in her life she had seen him smile, really smile.

“But it’s dangerous,” she added, eyeing the bandage she knew was under his shirt.

Letting her eyes slide down from the bandage, she noticed that his pants were not buttoned. His black underwear was peeking out of the opening. Eyes back on the road, she demanded herself.

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