Fisher

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I had thought long and hard about the best way to approach her, and had decided to meet her head-on.

I’d heard her enter, felt a sense of anticipation, excitement, that seemed out of place. I didn’t exactly relish this, didn’t relish it at all, really. Despite what I may have been doing, and what I may have done in the past, frightening some poor woman who was probably too naive to understand what was happening around her was not my idea of something good and noble.

But now wasn’t the time for principles, and I certainly wouldn’t indulge them, not when she was going to give me everything I needed.

I stood in full view, wanting to make sure she saw me.

I’d considered she might have a gun, and made sure I was close enough to the door to disarm her if it came to that.

After, I waited, listened to the sound of her approaching footsteps in the late evening dusk and made sure that I wasn’t visible from the hallway, but that she would see me the instant she stepped into the kitchen.

And she did.

She stopped midstride, one of her small, bare feet hanging in midair for a split second before she plopped it down.

I had looked at her before, saw her short, curvy frame that she liked to cover with flowing skirts and equally flowing tops that were usually earth tones, golds and bronzes and greens, the colors a perfect complement to her deep brown skin. I had seen the wild riot of textured hair that she sometimes pulled back tight, other times let flow free and untamed.

Up close, I got a different perspective of her. She was pretty, earthy, and I was instantly attracted to her in a way I hadn’t been when I’d looked at her pictures. But it would be a mistake, I decided, to think of her as some flighty bohemian.

Though I had observed her before, had gotten that impression of her from her name and the way she dressed, as I looked at her closely now, I could see that I was wrong.

This woman wasn’t some airy hippie, or some beautiful yet delicate stone like the one for which she was named.

No, I looked at her and saw that underneath the flowing skirts and the wild hair and the unusual name, there was steel.

That conclusion was confirmed when, after she had paused momentarily, sucked in a deep, sharp breath, she started moving again.

She glanced over her shoulder at me but then turned away and headed to the stove.

I didn’t react immediately, and instead watched her, wondering how this would unfold.

I had played this out in my mind, imagined her screaming, me trying to reassure her, while making it clear that cooperating with me was her only option.

It seemed she had other ideas.

She picked up her kettle from the stove and went to the sink to fill it. It was one of those shitty American ones, but I ignored that, deciding that now was not the time to focus on appliances, and instead focused on her.

She filled the kettle and then placed it on the stove, clicked on the stove, and then leaned against the counter.

She looked me up and down, her expression bemused, slightly annoyed, but not at all afraid. Or not as afraid as I had thought it would be.

“You Murphys are a sneaky bunch,” she said, her voice light, yet thick with the censure.

Hearing her call me that made my stomach clench and set off a wave of discomfort. I swallowed it down, deciding to ignore the reaction. As far as I knew, no one here knew who I was, even knew that I existed. But she had immediately assumed I was somehow connected to them, which was a surprise. I was veering far off script, but she had me intrigued.

“What makes you think I’m a Murphy?” I asked.

“This is a pretty diverse place, but we don’t have too many Irishmen running around,” she said.

“You didn’t know I was Irish before I spoke. And just because I am doesn’t mean I’m a Murphy,” I said.

I wasn’t entirely sure why I was doing this, engaging her in conversation this way, but I found myself doing so without thought, and with an ease that was surprising.

She shrugged. “True. But I don’t need to hear you speak to see you. And you look like them. A cousin or something?” she asked.

She had leaned against the counter more, stretched her hands out wide, gripping the edge. My gaze was drawn to the pull of the loose fabric around her full breasts. Her clothes kept her so covered that I hadn’t anticipated them, or the fact that I immediately wondered how their ripeness would fill my palms.

I blinked, focused on her hands, trying to clear my mind.

This reaction was clearly a side effect of going for so long without a woman. I had simply been unwilling to devote the energy to finding one, or to bother with a professional. But I hadn’t come this far to be distracted, so instead I kept my focus on her, wondering at her reaction.

I looked at her small hands, thin, dainty brown fingers. I thought there would be a knife or something close by, but her counters were clear.

It was consistent with the rest of the place. I’d checked it out, found it orderly and neat almost to a pathological degree. Not that I could say anything about that. I was a fan of order myself.

Still, I looked at her, more suspicious now. Even if she thought I was one of them, some cousin she hadn’t met, why wasn’t she afraid?

“Well?” she asked, tapping her small foot impatiently.

I couldn’t see it under her long skirt, but the way the edge of the skirt moved told me that she was, and the expression on her face further revealed her impatience.

“Well what?” I asked, wondering how I had lost the thread of the conversation that we shouldn’t even have been having.

“Are you a cousin or something?” she asked.

She looked at me expectantly, and for some reason I found myself wanting to respond.

“Or something,” I finally said.

She tilted her head, shrugged in a noncommittal way that told me absolutely nothing of what she was thinking.

The kettle began to buzz, and she reacted.

She turned away from me again and opened a cabinet, stretching up in a way that pulled her skirt tight against her bottom, which was as deliciously round as her breasts.

“Or Something, do you want some peppermint tea?” she asked.

“What?” I responded, blinking.

Still stretched, she looked over her shoulder, glared at me. “Do you want some tea?” she repeated slowly.

“No,” I responded.

“Well you’re having some. Barge in here and you think you’re gonna make me drink tea alone. I think not,” she said.

I said nothing, not at all sure what to say. I had no idea what was happening in this encounter, but it wasn’t at all what I had intended.

I needed to get my head back in the game, but Jade Green wasn’t making it easy.

She pulled two white porcelain mugs from the cabinet, rinsed them in the sink, and then sat them next to the stove.

Then she reached for a canister, grabbed two bags of tea, and plopped one into each of the cups.

She moved seamlessly, and I could tell that this was something she did often, though I wondered at the second cup. I hadn’t seen anyone else here other than Patrick’s wife.

I continued to watch as she reached for the kettle, filled one mug and then the other.

She returned the kettle to the stove, picked up both mugs, and then walked toward me.

Her expression was serene, and that was my tip-off.

I wasn’t fooled by her earth mother looks, nor what, at first blush, at least, appeared to be preternatural calm. Nothing I had seen of Jade Green told me she would take an intrusion like this lightly, and she certainly wouldn’t offer me tea.

She got closer, and then closer, and on instinct I dove to the right.

It was that instinct that saved me.

When she was a step away from me, she swung her arm hard, sending the boiling water and mug in my direction.

At minimum, I would’ve gotten second-degree burns had the water hit me, but I’d remembered that she was a lefty, figured that she would make her first attack with her preferred side.

But I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

After I dove right, I shifted left, dodging the second blast of water.

A few stray drops hit me, sending a stinging singe down my arm, but I paid it no heed.

Instead I took a half stride and closed the space between us.

I held her wrists, forced them down by her sides.

“Jade, that wasn’t very nice,” I said.