by Danae Little
She had no idea they were the good guys until they had her ex-boyfriend in cuffs and sat her on the couch. They had barraged her with question after question of things that she had been clueless of. The whole time they interrogated her, she watched them tear through her house, ripping cushions, breaking vases, and tearing up the carpet.
The DEA agents were just as shocked that she had no clue about her ex-boyfriend’s activities as she was that he had been doing anything illegal. The event left her a nervous wreck. For many months afterward, she had jumped at every sound, fear lancing and her heart beating in panic.
It had only been a week after that event when she got the call about Uncle Joe and Aunt Meg. She left her ripped up, broken house and moved up here for a much needed change.
“Hey.” Jameson’s large, warm hand swallowed hers as he broke her reverie. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, trying to shake off the memory. His hand on hers eased the fear that had built up. Her shoulders relaxed and she found herself breathing easier. When he touched her like this she wanted to plead with him to stay. She wouldn’t fear as long as he was near.
Jameson pulled his hand off hers and an emptiness filled it. He stood, and his eyes swept across the house before finally resting back on her. “I...If you don’t mind, I would rather wait until first light to, uh, to leave.”
“Of course,” she said and looked away quickly. Her eyes brimmed, and there was no way she would let him see the tears that were about to spill.
He nodded and walked out the screen door, his sandwich left half-eaten on his plate.
~*~
Jameson swung the hammer with all of his pent up emotion behind it. The nail had practically disappeared in the fence post. He straightened, wiped the sweat off his brow, rolled his injured shoulder and shook out his stiff leg. He had to do this. He had to leave. She wasn’t safe with him here.
He needed her safe.
Sydney had welcomed him in with no memory, with no real reason, and gave him a place to stay, home cooked meals and a life...a life, he realized more every minute he stayed, he wanted. A simple, no drama, small-town life.
~*~
All the rest of the day, Sydney’s mind warred with itself. Jameson had appeared at her doorstep, coincidentally right after she wished for a man just like him. Could Aunt Mag be right? Could his presence, and the timing of it, be more than a coincidence?
She kneaded the goat milk soap mixture together, enjoying the feeling on her skin. It felt good to do something with her hands, though if it had required more brain power maybe her mind wouldn’t be waging war against itself. Wiping off the creamy goop, she grabbed the molds and began pouring the soap in. Aunt Mag and Uncle Joe never made soap. This was her contribution to the ranch, something that was all hers.
Jameson and she worked so well together. Her mind started going again. Yeah, but who knew who he really was? He might get his memory back and flee this ranch life and her as abruptly as he entered it. Jameson’s large hands were capable of heavy-duty work and may have been made through hard labor, but their smoothness showed he hadn’t used them for hard ranch work for years.
Guardian padded along beside her as she walked to the house to start dinner. A pounding from the chicken coup told her that Jameson was fixing the base which he said was wobbly. Well, if tonight was to be his last night here, she would make a meal to remember. She pulled out two steaks from the fridge, a couple potatoes from the basement, and put the bread that she had set out to rise earlier into the oven.
She flipped the steaks on the barbeque, enjoying the sizzling aroma. Pink spread across the sky in a gorgeous display of a Wyoming sunset. A peace filled her as it always did when she appreciated this ranch and the beautiful countryside it sat in.
Jameson’s tall silhouette against the perfect backdrop walked towards her. He tugged on his cowboy hat, and the breath caught in her throat.
How could she let him leave?
The night gave the perfect atmosphere so she set up dinner on the porch. They ate mostly in silence, Guardian at their feet.
“Guess you’ll have to find another replacement before August...” Jameson’s mouth tugged up ever so slightly.
“Too bad, I thought I had found the perfect match.” Once the words left her mouth she realized how not only flirtatious they sounded, but how true they were.
Jameson and she worked well together. He finished projects he started, he had an eye for what needed to be fixed, and they had a way of intuitively knowing what the other needed without words being spoken. The kidding had made that obvious. Even Homer and she didn’t work that well together, and he had guided her since she was a child.
What would it have been like if she and Jameson had met under different circumstances?
When she finally met Jameson’s eyes, she realized he waged his own battle. “Maybe, if I get this all settled before summer’s over, I could come back.”
Sydney’s heart sped up with the thought. “I would like that.”
He probably had said that just to help ease the transition of him leaving, but maybe, just maybe, his words held some truth.
“Have you thought more about going to the authorities?” she asked, hoping to distract him from her last statement. “I mean, you have to be on the good side right?”
“The good side.” His one sided grin gripped her heart. “You’re probably right. Doing drugs doesn’t seem to fit.”
“Well, you talk like a cop...or something along those lines.”
“Yeah...I have noticed that tendency.”
“So, why not go to the authorities? I bet they could figure out who you are.”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed his hand over his short hair and scratched his cheek. His beard had grown in over the last few days. It didn’t look bad on him, but she didn’t think he was comfortable with it either. “Something just feels...off, like I shouldn’t go there.”
“Do you really believe there are drug gangs working around this area?”
“Yes.” He nodded as he said it. “Drug trafficking happens everywhere.”
Sydney jumped when the phone rang from inside the house. Who would be calling? She widened her eyes and looked to Jameson.
“That’s the first time I have heard your phone ring,” he said, his brow knitting.
“I don’t get many calls.” She walked into the house with Jameson following close on her heels, an uneasiness settling into her stomach. “Hello?” she answered.
“Miss Syd.” Homer’s voice filled with urgency.
“Homer? Are you alright?” Her eyes met Jameson’s and familiar jabs of fear poked her chest. Jameson bent his head down so he could hear the phone as well. It seemed natural, and she turned the phone out so he could hear easier.
“Yes, yes, Miss Syd. I was just coming back from town and thought you should know a strange black SUV is sitting in your driveway. It just seemed off. Do you want me to call Wil?”
Jameson and Sydney caught each other’s eyes. He shook his head and a look of warning filled him.
“Did you happen to catch the license plate, Homer?” Jameson spoke into the receiver.
“Jameson, what are you doing on Miss Syd’s phone?” Homer’s attempt to cover a chuckle didn’t work.
“We were eating dinner, Homer,” she said quickly to stop his thoughts. “Did you see the license plate or anything else?”
“Sure, sure. Well, let me try to remember...they were Wyoming plates...something either XY14 or YX41. I can’t remember the other numbers. The windows were tinted. Just sat strange with me. I hope I’m not worrying you, Syd.”
“You did the right thing, Homer.” Jameson had a professional quality to his voice that Sydney had occasionally noticed before. “If you remember anything else or something suspicious, please contact us right away.”
“Of course. You sure you don’t want me to call Wil? He would send a deputy out there to shoo them away at least.”
One look at Jameson,
and she knew what he wanted. “We’ll take care of it, Homer. Thank you so much for letting me know.”
“Okay,” he said, hesitantly. “Give me a call if you need me. Otherwise I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thank you, again, Homer. Sleep well,” she said, trying to sound reassuring though her heart pounded a million miles a minute.
“Goodnight, Syd.”
“Goodnight.” She hung up the phone and slowly raised her eyes to meet Jameson’s. His face had taken on a serious, yet expressionless appearance—eyes focused, yet no emotion crossed his features. What have I gotten myself into...again?
“It’s going to be alright, Syd, but...” He rubbed a hand across his short hair, and for a split second his eyes took on a look of uncertainty. “If it won’t, if you’re okay, it would be safer if I stayed in the house tonight.”
Was it wrong that the first feeling that rushed through her was relief? Shouldn’t she be embarrassed or fearful of this stranger sleeping in her little house? Yet, a warmth of safety flooded her. Jameson wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She knew it. She didn’t know how, but she knew he would and could protect her from whatever would come.
“I’m not trying to be forward.” Jameson shifted his weight and looked down at his feet.
She realized then she had been debating her sanity for who-knows-how-long while he watched her uncertainly.
“No, I know. Yes, that would make me feel safer.” She scanned the small living room, the recliner, and small love seat. Not really a place to sleep there. The office held the small twin bed that she had slept in as a girl. She almost laughed aloud trying to picture his imposing size fitting into that small trundle bed.
Jameson cocked his head to the side as his eyebrows furrowed. “What’s so funny?”
“I, uh, the spare bed is quite small.” She shrugged.
“I won’t be sleeping much anyway.” He nodded to the living room. “That recliner will do just fine.”
“If you say so,” she said. A flutter began in her stomach as she thought of the large queen bed, but she shook her head. No way, girl, you are not going there!
“Guardian will bark if...if a car or someone comes around?” Jameson asked.
“He did when you arrived, didn’t he?”
A one-sided grin cracked his serious expression, and her heart pitter-pattered. “Yes, yes, he did.”
She nodded before stepping away from temptation and went outside to clear the table on the patio. She couldn’t help but peer down the long drive that faded off into darkness. What was that SUV doing there? Would they come here tonight?
When she brought the dishes back into the house, she watched as Jameson systematically checked each window, locked it, pulled the curtains closed, and moved on to the next. His assured movements seemed routine and habitual. She realized she still stood frozen as her arms grew heavy. Her cheeks burned as she finally took the dishes to the sink and began washing them.
With the dishes drying in the rack, she put the last two slices of birthday cake on plates. She found Jameson on the dark porch, sitting with his back against the house and his eyes constantly scanning the tree-lined property.
“Anything?” she asked, doing her best to keep the tremor from her voice.
“No,” he replied in a quiet voice.
She handed him a plate of cake and sat on the chair next to him. The night looked and sounded like any other night: crickets chirped, the frogs from the watering pond sung, horses snorted, goats occasionally bleated, and Guardian gave the occasional grunt in his sleep. Sydney allowed the peace to flow through her, easing the pounding of her heart and washing out the memories trying to invade her mind.
“Do you often bake cakes?” he asked, a hint of humor in his voice.
“No.” She laughed, not meeting his eyes.
“Happy late birthday,” he whispered.
The bite she had just swallowed stuck in her throat. She coughed and pounded her chest. “What?” she asked, once she could talk again. She met his eyes and even in the darkness she could see their intensity. Her heart pounded again as she realized he knew. “How?”
“The candle holes and little drips of wax.” He shrugged. “Syd, why are you alone?”
The seriousness of his question left a fluttering in her chest as nervousness filled her. She lowered the plate to her lap, trying to keep the fork from tinkling against it in her shaking hands.
“Maybe I just like being alone.” She jutted her chin out, trying to pretend she did. Well, a part of her did. The other side though really enjoyed the company of the man beside her, and it yearned to never be alone again.
Jameson raised his eyebrows. Yeah, he knew her too well, and in only a few days. “You try to hide it, but you’re scared, and not just what a normal person would feel. You have experience with feeling this way.”
Her eyes scrunched together and her throat tightened. Why did he have to go and read into her like that? She stood up abruptly and took the empty plate from his lap. The screen door didn’t slam so she knew he had entered behind her, but she couldn’t turn away from the sink. She washed the plates to procrastinate, yet his eyes bored into her the entire time. He wasn’t going to let this go.
He stood between the kitchen and dining area, arms across his chest and eyes brilliantly green. Her hands shook, so she kept them busy and made a pot of coffee. When she no longer had any excuse to be in the kitchen, she finally met his intense gaze.
“If something goes down, it would be helpful if I knew what had happened so I could gauge how you will react.” He kept his voice steady and professional.
Sydney stood there, locked in his gaze, her throat tight and fear coursing through her veins until the coffee pot stopped gurgling. With a nod, she filled two mugs and motioned to the living room. Handing Jameson his cup, she plopped into the worn loveseat. A flash of Aunt Mag crocheting while Uncle Joe read aloud filled her mind briefly—the simple days.
Jameson sat carefully in the recliner, never taking his eyes off her.
“I’ve had progressively bad choices in men,” she started with a resigned sigh. She had never talked to anyone about this, not even her best friend, who in truth she hadn’t talked to in months, okay more than a year. “My first serious boyfriend cheated on me. The second, his verbal abuse finally turned physical before I broke it off. And the last...the last one had me fooled the entire time. That is until the DEA stormed into my house and held me under gunpoint while they tore through all my belongings. I was an emotional wreck, and still get shaky when I think about it.”
There, she said it. She actually breathed a little easier, having it out in the open. Summarized like that, it didn’t sound all too bad. So, she had bad taste in men. What did that say for Jameson then? She watched him out of the corner of her eye, unable to meet the power of his intense gaze.
Jameson’s expression hardened. The fingers holding his coffee mug turned white. His jawed clenched. It was the first time she really saw him angry. Then his eyes unfocused, and he sat back for what felt like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes. When he looked at her again, something had shifted.
“What?” she asked, knowing something internal had occurred.
“I had a flash of a memory.” He ran a hand over his short hair. “I can’t quite hold it, but it’s there.”
“They’ll come back,” she said, a small smile softening her face.
“I’m sorry you went through all of that, Syd,” he said with a hint of anger in his voice.
She nodded and eased back into the sofa.
“You deserve better than those men,” he said through clenched teeth.
She allowed a small chuckle to bubble out and then set her cup on the coffee table. She pulled her legs up under her and rested her head on the back of the couch. “Why do you think I’m here?” Mr. Paws jumped up into her lap, and she happily stroked him. “Here, I don’t have to worry about the constant questions or well-meaning friends trying to set me u
p. It’s just me and the animals. I’m good with them.” She yawned, a weariness filling her.
Jameson’s eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
The coffee had done no good. Her eyes felt heavy. It took too much effort to keep them open any longer. Her eyes closed of their own accord. She felt the exhaustion consuming her, numbing her to the world.
“You don’t have to be alone to be treated right, Syd.”
“Oh, I know. That was my birthday wish,” she murmured and snuggled further into the couch.
“Birthday wish?” He breathed out the question.
“Mmhmm.” She scarcely uttered the sound.
She was barely aware of Jameson rising and then felt the last blanket Aunt Mag crocheted cover her. He gently tucked a stray hair behind her ear and pulled the blanket around her shoulders.
“I’ll keep you safe, Syd. I will protect you.”
His words filled her with warmth as the world faded, and she was lost to dreams of what life could be in a simpler time.
~*~
Jameson paced the house as quietly as possible, which was difficult to do as anger surged through him. He wanted to find those stupid men who had mistreated Syd and show them what fear tasted like. How could anyone even think of treating the angel Syd was with anything less than respect and the love she deserved?
A low growl emitted from his throat. Outside Guardian shifted, causing the screen to strike against the door with a thud that sent Jameson’s heart racing. He checked out the window, but no movement could be seen. The dog hadn’t heard anything either, otherwise he wouldn’t still be dreaming.
Syd moaned softly in her sleep. He walked towards her, resisting the urge to brush back the hair that had fallen over her sweet face. If she were his, she would never feel fear again. He would make sure of it.
How could he leave her now? The men looking for him knew, or at least thought, he might be here. If he left, she would be alone, unprotected, and an easy target.
A few goats bleated and Jameson peered out the window towards the pens. The bright moon lent good light to see an expanse of the ranch. A couple goats moved around before lying down once more.