Rescued by that New Guy in Town

by J. L. Salter

  "Oh, yeah, I was there. Wait 'til I tell you what happened."

  I told her the whole story. It needed no embellishment — everything was scary enough just as it actually occurred.

  After she established that I was okay, Ellen crooned, "Ahh, that's so romantic. He fought for you just like a pirate captain might."

  "No sword, though." Of course, Ryan did just fine with his lumber scrap.

  "I hope you know, Kris — a man won't fight off three attackers for you unless you're special to him."

  "What do you mean, 'special'?"

  "I know how he looks at you."

  I had to think back. "No you don't, Ellen. You've never even seen us together."

  "But I still know."

  "No you don't." I half-way wondered if she'd accessed a hidden nanny-cam which had monitored me dressing his wounds. "But let's just pretend you did. How do you figure Ryan looks at me?"

  "Like you're the all-he-can-eat barbecue… and he's starving."

  "Barbecue? That's the best romantic metaphor you can manage?"

  Ellen chuckled. "Hey, I may be only a part-time writer with unpublished manuscripts… but I'm just trying to clue you in that this new guy in town thinks you're special."

  "Like grilled meat."

  "Forget barbecue." Ellen sighed as she apparently searched for a more suitable image. "When Ryan looks at you, it's like he's found something he thought he'd lost forever. Something very important… deep down significant."

  "And he thinks I've got it?" Actually, I hoped I did. But I was thinking he had something that I'd lost.

  "So what happened after you got him home and patched him up?"

  I couldn't help smiling. "You mean besides the kiss?"

  "He finally kissed you?"

  "Actually, I kissed him."

  "Where?" Ellen nearly squealed.

  "On the couch."

  "No, what part of him did you kiss?"

  "His lips, cuckoo. Where did you think?"

  Ellen's excitement came through in her voice. "So, is he a good kisser? Or just average?"

  I wondered what would constitute average. "Don't know yet."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, he wasn't actually awake at the time."

  "Oh, good grief, Kris. It doesn't count unless you're both awake." Ellen sputtered a bit. "Why on earth were you smooching on him while he was asleep?" Then she thought of the other issue. "And how come he didn't wake up with your mouth all over him?"

  "Well, he was pretty much out of it. Too much bourbon."

  "You got him drunk first? Kris, that's, uh, practically statutory date assault — attempted, at least."

  "No, no. I didn't get him drunk. It was medicinal bourbon. For his pain. He had three pretty stiff drinks in just a few minutes."

  Ellen sighed. "So he's asleep on your couch and you kiss him goodnight, but he doesn't even know it. I shudder to think what's next." She lowered her voice slightly. "Kris, this business of him sleeping over… have you thought this through?"

  "Look, nothing really happened. Well, I thought something was about to happen and I was pretty much ready — if you know what I mean — for it to happen. But it didn't." How could Ellen understand? I barely comprehended and I was there when it didn't happen.

  "Kris, I'm pretty much lost about what happened — or didn't — after you played nurse. But I know one thing for sure: this is the happiest you've sounded since I've known you. So whatever it is, it must be a good thing. You actually sound like you're in love."

  She threw me with the L word. "I fell for the smooth-talking Wally so fast there wasn't time to figure out he was a weasel."

  "True. And maybe if you'd slowed down a bit when Wally was pressing so hard you would've seen through his charm."

  "It wasn't actually charm… more like grease. He just knew which buttons to press and I was too primed to stop him from pushing them."

  "But every man's not like Wally. And you can't let that one awful experience shut down your heart." Ellen paused. "When you talk about Ryan, I can tell your heart is racing once again. I think it had slowed to a crawl."

  "I'm confused, Ellen. I thought you were still trying to talk me out of being with Ryan."

  Ellen sighed. "Maybe I was, earlier. But since a man risked his own life to save you from…"

  Yeah. "Bye." I abruptly ended the call when I spotted Ryan approaching the back door.

  Then I busied myself in the kitchen and tried to look domestic. Ignore the sudden extra heartbeats.

  "Good morning." He came over quickly and hugged me into his left side. "It's nice and brisk out there."

  "Yeah, I'm getting cold just touching your coat. Take that thing off and stand in front of the oven." I helped him extract his right shoulder. Only his tight, blood-stained T-shirt remained. Well, he did have trousers. Ha. "Your Band-Aids still okay?"

  "Yeah, I checked before I went out."

  "Coffee's nearly ready." I pointed even though the machine noise would have been sufficient.

  "Good. I need some." Then he looked puzzled. "By the way, how'd I get paper towels stuck inside my shirt?"

  I laughed. "Forgot all about them." I'd gotten distracted thinking about his body. "I was trying to blot up some of the blood that soaked through. I think that shirt's gonna have a stain."

  Ryan shrugged. Bloodstains didn't seem to bother him. "So, what'cha cooking?" He peered in every direction.

  I hadn't done much besides turn on the oven. "You like cinnamon rolls?"

  "Sure. What else?"

  It took me a second. For me, the rolls were an entire breakfast — with coffee, of course. But for a buccaneer who conks bad guys, that fare would be merely an appetizer.

  Ryan probably concluded my household wasn't used to expansive breakfast meals. "Okay, let's have some coffee and those buns when they're ready, then I'll drive you down to the pancake house and we'll fill in the gaps."

  The cinnamon rolls were still in their refrigerated cardboard tube. "You know, we could save these for later. We'll just have coffee here and then you go pick up something larger to bring back."

  He frowned. "You don't want to go with me?"

  I smiled awkwardly. "I'm a mess. No makeup, my hair's not ready…" I suddenly realized that I had dressed as though I were alone in the house! "And I'm not even completely dressed." My brassiere area was the first place he looked.

  "So I noticed." He grinned.

  My face grew warm and I felt like crossing my arms, but didn't.

  "You look beautiful, just like you are."

  Aaah. That word just did me in… and made my face even redder.

  Ryan hugged me into his left side again. "Beautiful all over." He peered into my face. "So you'll come with me?"

  "I can't sit in a restaurant with half a set of undergarments."

  "Well, don't put anything else on for me." His smile seemed exaggerated. "Compromise — you ride with me and we'll get whatever it is at the window and bring it back."

  I rarely left the house without a bra. "Okay, but I'm not going inside." A familiar sequence of final sounds emanated from the brewer. "Coffee's ready."

  "You got any travel mugs? I'm hungry."

  While Ryan poured the coffee and secured the lids, I put on a baseball cap and grabbed my jacket. The girls needed some warmth.

  ****

  The last time I'd been in Ryan's pick-up was the first night we met. I'd felt a lot differently then — bristly, resentful, even slightly afraid. Presently, returning home from his favorite drive-thru, I was relaxed, warmed, and reassured. That's what I was thinking when I realized he watched me more than he minded the road. It wasn't my legs — I had jeans on. It wasn't my bosom — the jacket was zipped. Ryan was looking at me. The entire me… as a person! Wow. "If you don't watch where you're going, we won't be alive to eat all that stuff you just bought."

  "Oh, right." He seemed surprised that I'd noticed. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

  "About what?"
<
br />   "You…"

  Keep your mouth shut, Kristen, and let him finish.

  "…about how lucky it was you got locked in that wooden cage."

  "Lucky?"

  Ryan nodded. "Yeah. If I hadn't found you in that pitch-dark armory, I never would've found you anywhere else."

  That made a little sense, but it was also partly a riddle.

  "You know what I mean?"

  I didn't, but nodded all the same.

  He checked a lane before moving over to turn. "I would've kept bouncing around, going out with whichever woman showed interest in me."

  And being the new guy in town, he could've had plenty of dates.

  Ryan suddenly looked rather startled, as though he'd forgotten he wasn't supposed to say anything about himself. Yet he'd just revealed a tiny snippet of his long story. Then, of course, he clammed up again.

  I desperately wanted to steer back around to him being so lucky to find me. But in Greene County, a lady just didn't beg for a compliment. No matter how much she wanted to. However, I did have a general question for him. "Uh, Ryan, almost every time I've ever asked you anything, you've just said 'long story'. This time I didn't really ask anything. So why do you tell me this now?"

  Ryan's silence seemed like minutes. "Most of this week, I've been worried…"

  I started to interrupt, but my inner Kristen kicked me in the butt.

  "…that whatever we'd started had suddenly — and a complete mystery to me how — just taken a wrong turn." He gulped. "After we spoke on the phone, I was afraid that you'd written me off as just another guy wanting to be with a pretty woman."

  Aaah. He'd said it again. That charmer! He must have had a short list of the words that melted me. "Well, I have been known to hold a short fuse at times. And I got ticked when you wouldn't say where you were. But I'd like to think I'm open-minded enough to hear a man out… you know, listen rationally to his logical explanations." I was lying through my teeth, but that was between me and my evil hormones.

  Ryan sighed heavily. "So, you weren't just about to pull the plug after that call?"

  I fibbed again. "No. In fact, we've really only just gotten started getting to know each other. There's not much more than our community service weekend to pull the plug on."

  "Well, plus pizza that night."

  "Yeah." I was glad he didn't seem offended that I'd pretended not to be extremely interested.

  "Plus, I evidently slept the night on your couch again… though most of it's kind of fuzzy."

  "You snore." My grin shaped the words. "But Elvis enjoyed cuddling with you anyhow."

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  On the way home from breakfast, Ryan detoured to his apartment on the west side of town. My first glimpse of it. Wouldn't want to live there — too crowded. I must have seemed puzzled.

  "Thought I'd pick up a clean shirt and stuff." He shrugged.

  I wondered what stuff that might include, but kept my thoughts to myself. He invited me in, but I stayed in the truck with the engine running and heater on. I also sampled the hash browns.

  While Ryan was gone, I called Eric even though I knew I'd probably kick myself later.

  This time I managed to cut through the haze of why I was calling and simply blurted out my question. "If a guy doesn't immediately run off the morning after he stays over…"

  "You dawg! So, you finally nailed him?"

  "No, listen… don't have much time. Nobody nailed anybody. But Ryan stayed over again last night…"

  "Huh? If nobody got anything, what's the point?"

  "Eric, will you listen for a change? He stayed over, nothing happened… not like that, anyhow. The point is, he didn't run off at first crack of dawn. So I want to know what that means."

  "It is what it is."

  "English, please?"

  "Remember Popeye?" Eric's childhood hero in everything but spinach consumption.

  "The Sailor-Man…" How many Popeyes could there be?

  "Right. Well, Popeye always said, 'I yam what I yam'."

  Great — Eric was quoting Popeye the Philosopher. "I remember, but I never understood what he meant."

  "It is what it is." My younger brother paused to let that existential nugget sink in. "In other words, Sis, it's not something nearly as complicated as you women want to make it."

  "So, if Ryan didn't dash off at first light, maybe he wants to stay for a while?"

  "It is what it is."

  I spotted Ryan approaching. "Thanks, Eric. Gotta go."

  After only about five minutes in his apartment, Ryan returned wearing a clean long-sleeved shirt and, most likely, a replacement T-shirt underneath. Looked like clean jeans, but the same Wellingtons. He also had a replacement jacket — the same impressive brand as the damaged one, but darker color and slightly different styling.

  I wondered what was in that small plastic bag, but didn't ask. Hopefully, at least a tooth brush. "It is what it is," I muttered.

  Ryan didn't seem to hear my comment. We shared the rest of the hash browns as he drove back to my place.

  Later, dining at my table, we both gazed out the rear window.

  While I loved having Ryan around for the remainder of that morning, I still half-way expected him to jump up at any moment and dash off. But he didn't. He acted like he felt at home there… with me. But that wasn't possible. I mean, we hadn't even kissed yet — at least not both of us at the same time. How on earth could I imagine he thought anything of the kind? And how could I think like that?

  It is what it is.

  ****

  After our breakfast, the television was on. Ryan flipped between a college football game and a war movie with too many commercials. I watched parts of the movie, but mostly scanned a magazine.

  Around midday, Ryan started prowling in my kitchen. I knew he was hungry, but there wasn't much of anything to cook. Plus, my brother had eaten most of my snacks. So I kick-started the engine. "What say I do something simple to my hair and finish getting dressed, and then we go eat a sit-down meal somewhere?"

  "Sounds good. I'm starving. But don't add any clothing for me. I like your… uh, you, that way." He almost stumbled. "And I like your hair tousled."

  What a diplomat! I hadn't done anything to my mane besides wash, dry, and brush — then I wore a cap for half an hour — and Ryan called it "tousled." Most people would've considered it a coiffure train wreck.

  I accepted his gracious compliment concerning my tresses. I was intrigued about his apparent appreciation of my bosom, but that area never went strolling out in public. Greene County women had an unspoken code, "keep the girls supported" unless there's not enough upstairs to worry about. Around Verdeville, the only women who went braless were tramps and topless dancers. Those dancers — from the Tip-Top Bar, just out of town — could get away with it because they were celebrities. I patted Ryan's left shoulder. "Be back in a sec."

  It actually took a bit longer before I reappeared.

  Ryan looked distinctly disappointed when he saw I'd added an undergarment.

  I stood on tip-toes and kissed his cheek decorously. "Ready?"

  ****

  After lunch at the Ranch House BBQ, I was fully braced for Ryan to drop me off and drive away. But as we turned into my subdivision, he hinted at another option. "So what do you usually do on Saturday afternoons?"

  I rehearsed several answers which could highlight my domesticity, like clean house or wash clothes… or even something craft-related like needlepoint. As if. "Truth?"

  "Of course." Ryan smiled. "What else?"

  That made me smile also. "Okay, truth is, I usually take a nap, unless the neighborhood kids are too loud."

  "Me too." It hung in the air for a moment.

  Then I realized my invitation was in order. "Well, I've got a couch, as I believe you're aware." I slapped his right knee lightly. "And I haven't even changed that beach towel yet."

  Ryan pulled into my driveway, shut off his engine, and faced me. "It won't bother you
if I hang around?"

  "Should it?"

  He closed his eyes briefly. "Not unless your neighbors start wondering how long my truck's parked here."

  "I'm sure my hermit reputation will survive." I chuckled. "They probably already saw me haul your sorry carcass up to my front door in a garden wagon."

  "Huh?" Evidently Ryan didn't recall that episode.

  "The night of your concussion. You weren't walking too well. I brought that wagon over here," I said as I pointed toward the neighbor's house, "and dropped you in it. Going up that incline was tough."

  "I don't remember most of that. Except hugging you, and something sticking in my back."

  "Thorns in the wagon. And you weren't hugging me as much as you were draped over me."

  "I liked it, whatever it was." Big smile, like he wanted to drape some more.

  ****

  We napped. In separate rooms, of course.

  Ryan and Elvis were again watching television when I trudged down the hall yawning. Not the prettiest picture.

  "Need anything to wake you up?" I nodded toward the kitchen.

  "No bourbon." He laughed. "That stuff you plied me with last night really put me out."

  "Plied you?" I had to whack his left shoulder again. "You practically begged for booze. And then you drank so fast that you were out by the time I got around to…" Oops.

  "To what?" He eyed me carefully. "Tell me what I missed, besides the paper towels."

  "Uh, nothing." I'd hesitated too long.

  "C'mon, what did I miss?" Ryan rose from the couch and stood in front of me. He kept his right side back a little, though.

  "You'll think it's silly." I started to pivot toward the kitchen.

  "If so, I'll laugh." He lightly restrained my arm.

  "I, well, um, you…" I looked into his eyes and wondered if he remembered any of the night after that liquor. Can't tell. "After I cleaned your forehead abrasion, you embraced me and I thought for a minute that we…"

  "Hold on. What kind of embrace?"

  "Well, you were lying on the couch and I'd leaned across you so I could deal with your, uh, injury." I looked down; it was embarrassing to verbalize this. "And we were touching… in places."