Margaret Watson - Someone To Watch Over Her

At that she looked quickly at him. “I can do that.”

“Go ahead and finish eating. I wasn’t very hungry,” he said gruffly. He felt her gaze on his back as he hurried out of the room.

After he tossed her stiff, wrinkled clothing into the wash, he leaned against the machine for a few moments to compose himself. He could do this, he told himself. He could walk out there and have a normal conversation with her.

When he walked into the kitchen, she was standing at the sink, rinsing the dishes. Sunlight streamed through her blond hair, turning the red highlights to fire. Her legs were strong and tanned, and he noticed that she had painted her toenails a bright red.

“We need to figure out what to do next, Jessica,” he said.

She carefully set a dish into the dishwasher, then turned to face him. “The first thing I need to do is call my parents. They must be frantic with worry.”

He shook his head. “You can’t tell anyone where you are.”

Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him. “You may have rescued me, but that doesn’t mean you own me. I’m going to call my parents, and you’re not going to stop me.”

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