Rose and Snow Bed and Breakfast

          "Don’t get to use to it, darlin’. I’d hate            to make you feel spoiled.”

     Though in all honesty he didn’t mind. Helping out at least made him feel somewhat normal, like he didn’t kill living things [and occasionally dead] for a living. It gave him a small illusion that things weren’t as scary out in the real world. Maybe Randal was just using her and her place as a way to run away. He knew that deep down, but he still appreciated everything she had to offer. Everything she had done for him so far. She was the closest to family he had in a long time and sometimes it was strange to think that there were still people out there that actually cared.

          "I’m glad I’m here too."

     Whatever was going on, it left him a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to push. He knew better. She respected him enough to not ask him questions. He’d offer her the same respect. Randal reached down to pick his bags up off the floor and toss over his shoulder.

She was more than aware her taste in men was horrible, and she kept doing it.  She'd given up on attempting to keep things clean and nice and pretty.  THose who would leave?  They'd leave.  It was the way the world worked, and if she didn't get too attached, it was for the better.  Then there were men like Randal.  Men she got attached to anyway, even if she shouldn't.  But he was relaible, he always came back.  It took a few visits, but her trust was won more and more each time- and vice versa.

She was struggling to keep it all hidden at this point.  Later, she kept telling herself, later.  Maybe on the porch with some tea, maybe dinner, maybe some time that wasn't bombarding him with her insecurities right when he came in the door.  No need to scare off the one consistent visitor that had become a friend- like family.  

"I'll work on that list." She stated, assembling her desk as she thought it over.  She'd do it too, once she figured out what she needed.  Without Clem, she just didn't catch on at times, and she struggled to remember.

Smiling all the same at his statement, she nodded.  "Thank you, looks better in there anyway.  I like to think that it gets it's own little rest too." 

"That sounds good to me, got it. I’ll be ready at the end." As soon as the paper was pushed across the counter, Sam was reaching out for the pen, scrawling his signature across the paper where it was indicated. This house already looked and felt better than most of the places that he had been able to sleep in. It had been a long time since he felt comfortable anywhere. His eyes went from the paper to her when she spoke about flirting, a dull flush coming to his cheeks. It was inevitable - this kind of conversation always made him flush. “I can’t really say I’ve had a lot of practice learning to deal with flirting or people flirting right back. It’s hard for me to uh, pick it up. I’ll make a note to do better from now on.”

"With dimples like yours?  You probably haven't needed to, sugar." She replied, pulling back to put the signed sheet on her desk.  

It was nice to see someone listening, made it feel a little more worth it when she was finished, nodding a little with a smile.  "It takes a lot to make me kick someone out.  I could use the money." She couldn't help but grin though, shrugging.  "I'm not going to take your electronics away.  I will warn you, though.  It's a small town, our internet isn't the best.   Unless you have one of the portable wifi spot things, people- mostly teenagers, go a little crazy here." 

     He knew something was off. The way the whole conversation changed from playful banter to almost.. forced. It reminded him of the way it was when he’d first come around, before she had started to warm up to him.

     Randal took a quick glance around the room, half expecting someone else to be around, yet there was no one. Not a sound except for the two of them. It was usually quiet, but when Clem knew he was here she was typically right there with her sister to greet him. There wasn’t a sign of her, but Talia would have said something if something bad happened. He trusted her to tell him. So he nodded, forcing a small smile as he took the key from her.

"Isn't that nice?  My own personal man about the  house.   A handyman who is paying to be one."

Even if it was at lower rates than anyone else who stayed.  He was here too often.  He was family.

"I need the help around here, actually."

It was the closest she could come to admitting it before dinner or some time to really sit and talk, where he could keep her from pestering her sister.

She knew of all people, he'd probably understand  the fear she was stumbling through.

She was tired suddenly.  Leave it to a good friend to make her remember what all she was carrying.

"I like to think I’m good at rolling with the punches. A smaller, girly room is hardly something to get up in arms about." Sam laughed quietly, leaning down to set his bag on the floor. He knew he’d have to sign something, have to get his credit card out to pay. He waved away her words as she went on, his smile growing just a little bit. "No, seriously, it’s okay. A room is a room, who am I to judge too much? If I wanted a more neutral room, I would have gone to a Motel Eight or something."

Holding the pen out with a grin, she rolled her eyes a little, unable to help but smile at the snort.  It was good to hear him laugh.  He looked like he could use it.  "You haven't learned yet, have you?  When a girl thinks you're flirting, if she doesn't look offended, you should keep going with it.  Might get you some points with lonely single girls, and flatter girls with boys to play with like me." 

She smiled though, tapping the pen on the counter.  "We have just a few rules.  We have dinner around six, and I make it.  If you want to be there, let me know, since I have only a few of you here, I can try to work around your schedules.  And I need to know how much to make.  They don't charge extra.  We'll clean up after you, but I'd like it to be manageable, or I'll remember you and you won't get to stay again.  This house is run like a family, everyone should try to get along, but I don't think you'll be much trouble there.  And of course, only your own rooms, the kitchen closes at nine, alcohol I'll allow, but be too loud for the other guests and I'd have to take you outside and neighbors don't like that either." 

It was all a well practiced speech, said with little having to think about what she said, all flowing into each other.  "Basically, be a good human bein', and we'll be one back." 

Southern Fried Chicken

Recipe: Southern Fried Chicken

Summary: Sometimes you just need say what the heck and indulge in…

The Inn at Warner Hall

          "I’m just talkin’ myself into trouble,            so we’re gonna just stop right there.”

     At least he knew when he was walking into a trap. It may have taken him a few visits to figure that one out.

Enough to see the almost panic at the  question, the way she shifts to focus on writing the information down.  The name in ever familiar handwriting.

"No one else is around right now.  A  few groups coming in this weekend to go see the horses.  The B&B is doing  pretty good."

She gives a quick smile, grabbing the  key and holding it out to Randal, all smiles again, but something is off this time.  Not the same joking earlier.  Not the real one.

"Just you and me until Thursday." 

"Woah, when did you get that?"

"Who did this to you?"

"How many time have I told you to be more careful?"

"You’re saying this was an accident?"

"What a shiner!"

"If you look like this, I’d hate to see the other guy."

"I’m not buying it, you don’t walk into a door and get a bruise like that!"

"Does it hurt when I touch it?"

"Let me kiss it better."

"If you don’t rest, you won’t heal."

"Another fight?"

"What happened to your face?"

"I don’t think your arm is meant to bend like that…"

"Let’s get you to bed."

"Let’s get you to the hospital."

"Why are you so calm about this?"

"You’re bleeding!"

"What are friends for, ey?"

"So, instead of helping you, they ran off the moment they saw what was happening?"

"You need to look where you’re going."

"I’m not accusing anyone, I’m just saying it looks suspicious."

"Do you want to tell me what really happened?"

"Don’t move! You’ll faint!"

"I’ve got some bandages, wait a sec."

"You’re the clumsiest person I know."

"I won’t let you be on your own, not when you’re like this."

"How could you be so careless?"

"I can’t even look at you, you promised not to get into any more fights!"

"Oh, I'm sure you learned that lesson last time."

Waking up under the pile of his own dirty laundry wasn't ideal.

"If I don’t sleep here, I’ll be sleeping in my car, so I think I can deal with a feminine room." He chuckled, one of his hands raising to scratch at the back of his neck. Sam had been on the road for hours, and he knew he needed to stop. Knew that he didn’t have a choice at this point, and honestly? A bed was a bed. He knew that he couldn’t complain when he was getting to sleep.

"Good boy." There's some element that reminds her of her sister.  The young woman currently out of the house, the one she had trouble letting go of, and still missed daily.  Oh, there was still panic, but she couldn't say no to having some people in the house.  Especially of varying ages.  She was making due, but barely.

"I could have put you in one of the less flowery ones, but it's much bigger, and I don't want to make you pay more than you have to." Or lose the room to a possible family to let them stay.  It was business sense.  

Already starting to write, she stopped at the teasing tone, looking up and unable to keep back the small laugh of surprise.  Was he flirting with her?  Not that she'd object, he was cute, and seemed like a better and safer bet than the men she tended to sleep with- but he was passing through.  That was against her rules.

"Well, hon, I'm sorry to say most of our rooms aren't...manly, but I do know a few regulars who pass through who forgive it because we have the best beds and water pressure in Georgia." 

It's mostly just joking around, and there's no denying she knows it just as much as he does.  The accent aside, she's playing her role well, leaning against the counter with a grin.  

"Losing is never good, then there's usually a loser's fee, and you can never predict with dangerous bearded surly men like you.

You might demand things.

...