This story seems determined to tell itself in shorter chapters than is normal for me, so here is another installment! How will Walt and Vic spend their Valentine's Day? Read on to find out…
There's a tiny bit of mature content in this chapter, just to let you know, mainly due to Vic's dirty mind. :)
xxxxx
The Heart of the Matter
Part III
If there was one thing that Vic had learned over these past three years as a deputy, it was that the little old ladies of Absaroka County most definitely loved them some Walt Longmire.
Not that she could blame them, of course. But if she were perfectly honest, after being called out to widow Fletcher's farm at four o'clock in the morning because the lady of the house was absolutely certain she'd seen a burglar and said burglar was undoubtedly hiding in the hay loft, the last thing Vic wanted to do after investigating said hay loft was sit in the kitchen and drink tea while the old woman nattered on about how handsome and fabulous Walt was. As if she didn't already know.
"…always was sweet, even when he was a young fella. Never said much, but I could tell. Last time he came out, that was before my Harold passed away, he brought back our stolen horse! Well, he said Old Jack had just wandered out of his pen, but I'm sure I saw a man in a ski mask out by the edge of the field earlier that day."
Vic had nodded and smiled, feeling like one of those bobbleheads that guys like Ferg usually had on their dashboards and thinking about how much paperwork she still needed to fill out despite the pointlessness of this call.
"Walter was so good with that horse, so gentle. There's just something about men and horses, isn't there? Why if I were thirty years younger… well!" She'd giggled the giggle that all old ladies have when they think they've said something a bit naughty, then reached over and patted Vic's hand. "Anyway. What about you, dear? I don't see a wedding ring! Have you got a young man in your life? It's Valentine's Day after all…"
How was she supposed to answer that? Vic didn't think that anyone in their right mind could look at Walt and refer to him as a 'young man,' although old Mrs. Fletcher probably thought of anyone younger than 70 in those terms. It was surprising, how confused she found herself by such an innocuous question. It was weird, thinking about Walt like he was her… sweetheart? Like they should be holding hands and reading each other the dumb ass sayings on those chalky, gross candy hearts. WILL U B MINE? Too late, cowboy, I've already been yours for a long time.
Her thoughts about Walt were usually so visceral, so powerfully physical, but now that they had started down some sort of relationship road together Vic found that she wanted the other stuff, too. She wanted the hand-holding and the romance and the kisses in the rain just as much as she wanted that raucous, sweaty, intense sexual connection that she was a bit more comfortable thinking about.
Vic had felt her face turning red as Mrs. Fletcher smiled over at her, awaiting a response.
"Yeah," she'd found herself saying, "I think I do."
As soon as Vic was done with the annoyingly necessary paperwork, in perfect sync with Ruby's timely arrival at the station just before 7am, she'd taken herself off home for a hot shower and a date with her invitingly cozy bed. It was now officially her day off, and she was determined to get some sleep so that she'd be rested up for whatever it was Walt had planned for later.
Oh yeah, she'd seen that little wink he'd thrown her way last night. And it hadn't escaped her notice that he'd made sure both their schedules were clear even though he ordinarily took the evening shift on Saturdays. And if she'd misread the signs and Walt wasn't planning for romance? Well, Vic had some newly-purchased lacy red underthings in a pink bag on her dresser. Walt did seem a bit oblivious at times, so if he left her no choice she would simply take the Valentine's party to him and spice things up a bit.
Sleep was patchy and elusive for the next several hours, with Vic's mind swirling around the possibilities and contemplating the eye candy potential if she could actually convince Walt to put on those novelty boxers she'd given him. Half-dreaming, Vic allowed the images to dance through her subconscious. She had a vision of Walt standing in front of her, no shirt, in fact wearing nothing but those silky underwear and, oddly enough, his hat. In the grand tradition of messed-up dreams, one of those tacky heart-shaped beds that you would expect to find in a motel that performs Elvis weddings suddenly appeared next to them.
Vic imagined herself pressing up against Walt, feeling his satin-encased erection nudging against her hipbone as she removed his hat and tossed it brim up onto the bed. They would kiss, slow and dirty, and then he'd suddenly spin her around so that her back was pressed against the warmth of his chest and solid torso. She imagined how Walt's hands would feel, sliding up to mold over her breasts through the red lace of her bra. He'd notice that the bra had a front closure— Walt always noticed everything. Vic could hardly wait to find out what those big, capable hands could do once they found access to bare skin.
After that he would kiss her neck, exploring her breasts and teasing her sensitized nipples with one hand while the other would slide down, into her skimpy lace panties, finding the wet heat where all her fantasies converged. She imagined that he would whisper deep, honeyed words against the shell of her ear while he used his hands to work her into a lustful frenzy. Vic would be almost too distracted to remember how badly she wanted to reach back, grasp the hard evidence of his mutual arousal and work him until they were both breathless and groaning, desperate to be joined. Then she'd push him back onto the bed, drag those alluring boxers down his long, muscular legs, and— and then—
Apparently then the phone would ring, startling Vic out of her dream and displaying the number at the station. The screen told her that it was now just past noon as she picked up to answer, and she held onto the futile hope that it was just Walt calling to wish her a happy Valentine's Day right up until the moment she heard Ruby's voice on the other end of the line. So much for the long, uninterrupted sleep she'd been hoping for…
x
If anyone had told Walt five hours ago that he would end up spending his morning hunkered down behind his Bronco because a crazy man was trying to shoot him, yet again, he might have had Ruby call Mathias back and tell him to take his transfer of custody and stick it where the sun don't shine.
As it was he found himself crouched down behind the truck where it was parked out in front of the B.I.A. substation, Mathias to his left, wondering exactly how it was that one of the tribal police chief's subordinates had been careless enough to allow George Crazymule to snatch the gun right out of his holster. Mathias hadn't given much by way of an explanation, approaching Walt's inquiry with the same glib, non-committal brand of response that he used for practically everything.
"Maynard's a rookie. Wasn't expecting an old drunk like George to have such fast hands." Mathias shrugged, trying to peek around the back of the vehicle only to be met with the sound of more gunfire.
Walt frowned, fingers tightening around his sidearm. "Why would you let a green recruit handle the transfer of a dangerous criminal in the first place?"
"He wasn't handling it, he was just helping. Most of my guys wanted the day off to spend with their lady friends, sheriff. It's only me and Maynard on duty until the overnight shift."
Great, just great. Now what should have been a by the books custody transfer had turned into what was essentially a hostage situation. As far as Walt understood the lay of the land, Crazymule had locked young Maynard in his own vacated jail cell after commandeering the officer's handgun, and was now taking pot shots at Walt and Mathias in hopes of avoiding transfer to Absaroka County where he might face charges far more serious than anything the Cheyenne Tribal Police had on him. Up until now, anyway…
Walt had radioed in to Ruby and asked her to send the Ferg out for backup, figuring with three people on the outside they might be able to work their way back into the building through another entrance and hopefully catch the suspect by surprise or at the very least flush him out.
Surprises were apparently the order of the day, as Walt received one of his own fifteen minutes later when backup arrived, but not in the form of Ferg and his Trans Am as Walt had been expecting. Vic's truck rolled up, wheels kicking up dust as she screeched to a stop and poured herself out the driver's side door in a fluid movement. As her boots hit the ground, Walt and Mathias motioned for her to get down. Crazymule fired off a warning shot just to reinforce the message.
Vic bent her knees and leaned her back against the side of the Bronco on Walt's right side. "Shit, what the hell is going on here?"
He peered over at her, trying not to admire the way her ponytail bounced or how her jeans hugged the curve of her thigh where it bent toward the junction of her hip. The fact that he was allowing himself to be distracted by such thoughts under the circumstances made Walt a bit angry with himself, and his greeting came over a fair sight more gruff than he'd intended. "What are you doin' here? Where's Ferg?"
"Well. A sunny fantastic good afternoon to you, too."
Walt winced. He could actually taste the sarcasm.
"Ferg was out on a domestic. Ruby said you really needed backup, so she called me in. On my day off. After four lousy hours of sleep."
He had the good sense to be contrite. "Sorry. If I'd realized Ferg was out I would have told Ruby to leave you be. We could have managed." She didn't look well-rested, and Walt had a private moment of panic when he realized that now that she was here with him she would not be home to receive the flower delivery he had arranged.
"So what, I'm surplus to requirements? I'll be happy to go home and back to bed if you don't need me here."
This day was definitely not going as planned. Walt only just managed not to release a heavy sigh. "That isn't what I meant at all. Of course I need you."
Vic raised an eyebrow, and Walt could have sworn there was a twinkle in her eye. Before he had time to investigate further, however, Mathias huffed in annoyance. Walt had almost forgotten that the other man was even there.
"Will you two either button it or get a room? I don't want to hide behind this truck all damn day."
At that, Vic finally graced him with a full-fledged smile. There was nothing like pissing off Mathias to improve his deputy's mood, it seemed. "Okay, so what have we got?"
xxxxx
Well, doesn't this look like a fun way to spend Valentine's Day? Walt and Vic even have Mathias along to chaperone their policing date. Haha! Another chapter should be along in a few days; a big thanks to everyone who has stopped in to leave a comment. I love hearing your thoughts about the story, so keep them coming! :D
