Posted: 4/25/11
Updated: 8/17/11

True Blue Cowboy
~ 2 ~

After making sure she had a fresh batch of her Gran's famous Southern sweet tea chilling in the refrigerator, Sookie, moist and dirty from lawn work, stepped under the shower head. As the cool water rushed over her bare skin, she instantly felt relieved. The cold water helped cool off the heat that Raylan Givens had generated.

As the water streamed down her feminine curves, Sookie went back and forth about the cowboy Marshal. Her dialogue consisted of all the million reasons she should and shouldn't let herself get involved with him. In her current man-less state, a little fling between consenting adults was something that really appealed to her. Then of course she pondered the possibility that Raylan Givens wasn't attracted to her.

"Too bad Claude wasn't here to work a spell," she mused. Instantly she scolded herself for even thinking it. She felt utterly appalled at how low she had sunk to even consider working a spell in order to get a little something-something, as she referred to it. "God," she breathed. "I think I've reached the bottom," she mumbled.

Combing the cream rinse through her hair, she could hear her cell phone ringing for the third time since she got into the shower. Sookie was enjoying the cool water too much to really care. Ignoring it, she absently she ran her hands over her legs and decided to lather up and shave.

"Just in case," she wistfully thought. She calculated that if she did shave, ending up in a compromising situation with the smoldering Marshal was less likely. Her logic was that if she didn't shave and trim below, her chances at an indiscretion was highly probable, because to her it always seemed when a person was least prepared, stuff happened.

So in her infinite and flawed logic, she convinced herself that if she was prepared, it wouldn't happen. Thus she would be safe from herself.

~ * o * o * ~

While Sookie tended to her hygiene, Raylan Givens trudged through the Stackhouse woods tasting the air. Though he picked up the occasional scent of were-panther, it wasn't his were-panther, Bodean Quaid. Bodean had killed several people in a shooting spree a few months back. Last night, when he was being transported across state lines, it so happened that it was the first night of the full moon. Granted, no one had known Bodean was a shifter. Raylan only figured it out when he interviewed Bodean's kin early that morning before arriving to Bon Temps; were-panthers. He picked up the scent as soon as he had stepped onto the porch.

"Ya," Raylan drawled. His cell phone had been vibrating at his side.

"Where are you?" asked US Deputy Marshal Rachel Dupree.

"In the woods." Raylan grinned at hearing Rachel chuckling at his reply. He turned on his heels and headed back toward the house.

"Anything?" she asked.

"I may have something," Raylan admitted. The closest were-panther pack from where Bodean had escaped was Bon Temps. Since it was the appearance of the full moon that triggered a shifter to involuntarily take on their animal form, Raylan knew he had about three days. During that time shifters were driven by instincts to be with their own kind, so he knew Bodean wouldn't be going anywhere far.

"Where are ya'll?" Raylan asked Rachel.

"We just finished interviewing the witnesses at the gas station," she answered.

"Well," Raylan breathed. "I'll meet ya'll back at the hotel then."

"Sounds good." Rachel closed the phone connection.

On his trek back to the house, Raylan's thoughts lingered to Sookie Stackhouse. His keen senses had picked up that Sookie, though mostly human, had the faint scent of fairy. That would explain her siren effect on him; even a drop of fairy blood in a human made them physically alluring to the supernatural. Then again Andy Bellefluer had mentioned that she had a cousin who lived with her. So Raylan wasn't sure if the fairy scent he picked up was from a cousin or some fella Sookie might be sleeping with. He was hoping for the former. Sookie Stackhouse had gotten his attention; the kind that would make a man fly across state lines for.

He had to ask himself whether he could afford to go there.

It wasn't a question of want more than practicality. Raylan knew enough about himself to know that he was an 'everything or nothing' kind a man.

~ * o * o * ~

Back at the house, Sookie wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel. She hurriedly padded across her bedroom to answer her cell phone. It had been ringing persistently since she had stepped into the shower.

"Hello," she said when she really wanted to say 'what the hell'.

"Sookie?" On the other end of the line was Nancy Bartley. Her and her husband owned a small farm not too far from Sookie's place. "Sorry to bother you." She sounded emotional.

"What's wrong Nancy?" Sookie asked, instantly sobering.

"One of our cows went missing." Nancy struggled to keep her voice even. "Tommy and I found her. She'd been attacked. Brad's too sick to go out."

"I'll be right over." Sookie's voice was calm and clear. Nancy's husband was real sick; dying of stomach cancer.

"Thank you, Sookie." Nancy, a born and raised city gal, had married her college sweet heart who had a dream of being a farmer. She'd supported him as much as she knew how, but farming wasn't in her blood. Unlike Brad who felt a special bond to their land, Nancy didn't. It was Brad that kept her linked to this place. Without him she had no desire to hang on to it once he passed.

"Don't mention it Nancy. I'll be right over." After a few tearful "thank you's" from Nancy, Sookie closed her cell.

After pulling out a set of under things, she made a beeline to her walk-in closet. Wiggling herself into a pair of jeans she then slipped on a dark t-shirt with cap sleeves and a scoop neckline. It was the first thing she reached for, because it was dark and it would hide any blood stains. Her thoughts wondered to the cowboy Marshal wondering her woods. It was for the best, she thought. Spending any length of time with him, would only lead to one thing.

Once she had her work boots fastened, she headed to the bathroom and combed out her wet hair. Quickly, she ran her fingers through it when she was done making sure to loosen her hair so it wouldn't lay flat. Her hair would just have to air dry on the way she thought.

~ * o * o * ~

Just as Sookie reached the closet where she kept her bag and Benelli, Raylan Givens stepped onto the front porch. Through the screen he saw Sookie bent over reaching into the closet. He knew he should turn, and he started to though he wanted to admire the view. In his peripheral vision he caught something and froze. Sookie's shirt rode up enough to reveal markings on her back. A tattoo? Raylan stiffened.

Absently, he pulled in his lower lip running his tongue over it. His attention had been peaked. Seeing Sookie in that compromising position had his mind doing a number on him; one that would have made any grown man blush.

Sookie's telepathy picked up on Raylan's register. She swore she felt him undressing her. A part of her, the responsible side, told her to behave herself and straighten up. The other part of her, her reckless side, prompted her to linger. It was the latter that won. Ignoring her self reprimands, she slowly and seductively swayed her hips making sure she had Raylan Givens' full attention.

"Gghghh." Raylan cleared his throat. If he wasn't a gentleman he would've ripped the screen off its hinges and plunged right into her. Instead, he regrettably tapped on the screen door. Sookie turned to look over her shoulder.

With her black leather bag in one hand and the Benelli riffle in the other, she stood up and turned to face Raylan. His brow immediately arched. An amused smile brightened his eyes. She had surprised him.

"Sorry about that drink." Sookie met his eyes and smiled. Raylan opened the door for her and helped her with her rifle. She allowed him to slip the rifle out of her hand. She shut the door behind her and locked it. Turning around she said, "I've got an emergency."

Raylan's expression was wary. He wasn't sure what kind of emergency involved a black bag and a rifle; except for the criminal kind.

A/N:
4/25/11 The voice of this story won't leave me alone. I'm still actively doing a rewrite for another writing project, so don't ask how, but I plucked out a few more chapters for True Blue Cowboy. Please enjoy. Bear in mind, I'm winging this story. I have absolutely no idea where it wants to go or how far it wants to be told. As long as its voice keeps talking to me, I'll keep plucking at the keyboard for it. As always, please review, even if just a smiley face.