Page 25 of Half Blind

With the damp towel draped around his neck, she went to work, sectioning off the hair, as he sat. Lemon watched him and the interaction. He had this done often.

“Does your wife normally braid it for you?” Lemon wanted to know.

“No wife,” he said. “My sister has a salon. Usually, she does it.”

“When you're on the road, you what...just let it go?”

“Pretty much; it has been braided for dang near three weeks, and I was starting to hate the smell of it,” he said.

“Three weeks,” Lemon repeated.

Jared reached up and touched Helen's hand, asking her to stop. He turned in the seat, making direct eye contact with Lemon.

“I left Guatemala about twenty-five days ago, driving up the Pan American Highway to Cleveland. A tornado picked me and my truck up and I found myself here,” he said. “The job I got sent to do was completed. I was headed to see a friend. Nothing more.”

He turned around in the chair. “My parts will be here in the morning. I will put them on my truck and be gone by the afternoon. We depart as friends. The job here is done as well.”

Ayanna and Bria took exception to his words, rising and leaving for their rooms for the night. Helen made quick work of adding five braids to his hair where four used to be and also said goodnight. Lemon took a blanket and a pillow from the linen closet and placed them on the couch. When she made eye contact with him, he understood what she wanted. He wanted it too, but he needed to get moving. A night with her and he’d build in trenches to defend a life on the farm with her and the girls, but he couldn't. The Devil on his heels would be closing in, and he didn't need that noise in her ear.

“Listen, Doc Myrtle,” he said, walking over to the couch, the towel from his hair, bunched in his hands. “Life is hard and unforgiving. I try not to leave a mess wherever I go. Let me be the nice guy here. I'm trying desperately to be the good guy.”

“I understand, but every now and then, a woman just needs a bad man to be the alpha and handle some shit,” she said, looking at his mouth.

“Lady, take it easy on me. I'm already fragile and barely hanging on here,” he said. “My truck parts will be here tomorrow, and I drive away. I won't leave any litter in your yard and we depart as nice friends.”

“I have enough damned friends,” she told him, reaching for him.

The towel blocked her view of what she needed to see. She touched the towel, pushing it downward, revealing his burgeoning interest in her. Myrtle sighed deeply, her hand running down the rigid flesh, sliding across the soft cotton of the fabric. It moved when she touched it as a soft sigh escaped his lips.

“Doc Myrtle, let me be the good guy tonight,” he pleaded. “One more touch and I can't promise I will be.”

“Blame this one on me,” she stated softly, reaching for him and pulling him to the couch. Her lips met his as the weight of him landed on top of her, the hardness of him landing between the juncture of her thighs. Calloused hands slid up her thigh, lifting the skirt as he kissed her deeply.

“Not like this, Doc Myrtle,” he said, trying to pull away. She moved suggestively against him, wrapping her legs about his hips. The grinding of her hips against him made Jared move against her as well. The heat of her penetrated the thin cotton of his loungers. “Damn, this feels...hmm.”

Jared moved against her, thrusting as she clung to him. Only two thin swatches of fabric stood between them and a night they would eventually regret. His hands went for the panties. A thick finger slipped inside, feeling the moisture, the scent of the nectar calling to him. She reached for the drawstring of his pants, tugging, slipping her hand inside, stroking the stiff flesh. Jared moaned into her mouth, wanting what she promised, but he wanted a bed, not a quickie on the couch. The feel of the heat of her against the erection was making him lose his ability to think straight.

Heavy footsteps reached the front porch and the doorbell rang. Jared stopped. He kissed her once more, pushing himself off the lady and up righting his clothing. The towel, once on the floor, was draped across his lap to conceal what they'd been up to as Myrtle righted her clothes to answer the door. She peered through the side window, spotting the police cruiser. It was ten at night. Jared said nothing while Myrtle entered the code for the alarm, disarming it before opening the front door.

“Sheriff, what can I do for you?” Lemon asked.

“Just checking in, seeing how things were going,” he said as Jared came to the door to stand behind Myrtle.

Intentionally, he made no physical contact with her but provided silent support.

“You're inside now,” the Sheriff said, looking at Jared.

“It's going to be a cold one tonight. I have a pillow for the couch,” Jared replied.

“For the couch,” the Sheriff replied.

“Yeah, tonight, I'm on the couch,” Jared said, making direct eye contact. “Thanks for checking in on us. Doc Myrtle, I'm going to make some tea. Would you like a cup?”

“Thanks Mr. Bane; that would be lovely,” she called over his shoulder as he walked away, leaving her alone with the Sheriff.

“Have a pleasant night, Sheriff,” Jared called out, humming his way to the kitchen.

“Sheriff, is there anything else?”

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