It's a rainy morning and we needed it bad and so far it hasn't knocked out my internet so that makes it even better. Hope the rest of you stay dry and have a safe day! I'm off to bed! Thanks for reading! =)

Chapter Ten

Carol glanced at the clock and felt her pulse pound a little bit harder when she realized that it was after ten. He had told her that he would be late but she hadn't expected him to be this late. She couldn't stop herself from wondering if maybe he had realized that it was all too much. She hadn't wanted to lay it out there like that but he needed to know the truth and the truth was, she was terrified of her and Sophia getting hurt.

And the truth was, she was falling for him hard and she knew that her daughter loved him and she couldn't force herself to not be afroad for the both of them. She never thought that she would ever trust a man again, knew how dangerous it was for her to trust this one after such a short amount of time, and now she was nearly sick with anxiety. She had to keep reminding herself that he had looked very sincere when he had explained to her his intentions. He had seemed to be telling the truth when he had admitted that he hadn't had any plans on going anywhere.

She told herself that whatever happened, she wasn't planning on sleeping with him tonight. That wasn't why she had invited him over. She had invited him over to talk and that was it. The fact that she dug into the very back of her closet, had dove into the Victoria's Secret bag that Andrea had given her for Christmas last year, tore the tags off of the ridiculously expensive bra and pantie set, and was now wearing said gift, had nothing to do with whether or not she was planning on letting Daryl Dixon get a peak at her unmentionables.

All coincidence. Maybe she just hadn't wanted such a thoughtful gift to go to waste. Never mind that she had never bothered wearing any of it until tonight. That had nothing to do with anything at all.

Along with the over the top lingerie she had also decided that it would be a nice day to bring the dress out of the back of the closet. The very first thing she had bought for herself after her divorce was final. She had bought it and then had never had the nerve to wear it. She wasn't even sure why she had never worn it. It wasn't too short, hitting a few inches above her knees. It wasn't exactly provocative in any way at all. Maybe it was just because she had spotted it the very first time while she was out shopping with her then husband. He had seen her eying it and had laughed, explaining to her why a dress like that would never work on her. For one, she was too fat, too plain, too pale for the color to work. He went on and on until she had shuffled off, slump shouldered and nearly in tears and never gave the thing another thought until she was finally free of the hateful bastard.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled, almost triumphantly. The thin material hugged her waist and the color went just fine with her light complexion, thank you very much. She felt good. She felt like she looked good. She also felt like a complete fool for trying so hard just for Daryl to stand her up. Not that he had, not really. He said he would stop by but that didn't mean they had concrete plans to do anything. He was probably too tired since he had worked a lot of hours in the horrible heat. That was likely why he wasn't coming. It had nothing to do with second thoughts or the fact that he just didn't really like her and hadn't been able to let her down easily.

At ten fifteen she headed to the door, intending to lock up for the night, muttering a complaint about allergies since her eyes were stinging and it definitely wasn't tears over her mild disappointment or certainty of rejection. She wasn't pathetic.

She went to the door, turned off the porch light and was just about to turn the deadbolt when she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a loud knock. She threw the door open, her chest heaving and her eyes wide. She realized a second later that anyone could have been at the door and she was lucky that it was Daryl standing there staring at her and not some chainsaw murderer. She opened the door wider, trying to calm herself as he stepped past her.

He eyed her, his gaze raking over her from head to toe and then back up again. His hair was damp and his clothes were clean and she realized that he had likely went home to clean up before coming here.

"Were we suppose to go somewhere?" he asked once his eyes finally found hers.

She looked down at herself and flushed deeply, trying and failing, to come up with a reason that she would have dressed up just because he was coming over. She was talking before she could even think about the words. "I've had this thing since my divorce and it's the first time I've ever put it on. Ed said I'd look horrible in it so when the divorce was finalized I went right out and bought it and then never got up the nerve to wear it for some reason." She was rambling and he was staring at her with his brows raised. She closed her mouth.

Daryl just shrugged once she grew quiet. "His loss."

She blew out a nervous breath. He had never made her nervous before, not even when she first met him, but she was nervous now. So nervous, in fact, that her hands were actually shaking and her mind was drawing a blank. She had no idea what to say to him, felt more than a little ridiculous and realized with a start that she was afraid. And it had nothing to do with him deciding he didn't want to figure out where this was going. It was something else altogether.

This realization was surprising. There wasn't anything to be afraid of here. But she had felt the same way about her ex husband all those years ago and it turned out that she wasn't the greatest judge of character. He had to have seen something change in her face because he frowned, the look on his face a mixture of concern and confusion and she felt so angry with herself.

"You know, I can just come back tomorrow or somethin'. Since it's so late and all," he offered.

It made no sense for her to feel like this now. It wasn't fair that she felt like this now! It meant that she wasn't over the life that she had fought to free herself from and it wasn't fair. She finally shook her head firmly. "No, I don't want you to come back tomorrow."

His brows pulled together but he nodded quickly. "Okay then. So does that mean I need to stay away or..."

She scowled. "What? No! I meant that I don't want you to leave right now!" Her nerves were so frazzled she wasn't sure what to do at all.

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

"I don't know what the hell is wrong with me!"

"The kid ain't here," he said simply.

She stared. "What are you talking about."

He glanced around. "Me and you ain't never really had to deal with just me and you. She's always around. A buffer or a distraction or some shit like that. Now you don't know what the hell to do with yourself cause it's just me and you."

She snorted but his mild explanation made sense to her. "So the only common ground that you and I have is Sophia and without her I turn into a complete basket case?"

He smiled at that. "No, she ain't the only common ground we have but we're used to her being around. Now she ain't. So what the hell do you want to do? As much fun as I'm havin', I don't wanna spend the rest of the night standing here in your living room while your nervous ass rambles on about stuff."

Just like that she felt herself start to relax, her momentary panic tampered down by his eagerness to get a laugh out of her. "You want a drink? I never drink when Sophia is home but, I think I could really use one at the moment."

"Is it fruity? Cause I can't stomach that fruity shit," he said, following her into the kitchen.

She gave him a steely look from over her shoulder and caught him staring at her ass. She didn't comment on it. It felt good to be looked at the way he was looking at her. "You underestimate me. I have never cared for frills when it comes to my alcohol."

She heard him chuckle, the sound causing a shiver to run down her spine. Without a word she dragged one of the kitchen chairs over to the pantry and climbed up. On the very top shelf pushed to the very back, was a fifth of whiskey and she grabbed it quickly, looking down at him with a triumphant grin on her face.

One eyebrow shot up and he whistled low. "Gentleman Jack, huh? I knew you were one of them classy broads." He offered her his hand and she took it, stepping down and letting him slide the chair back where it belonged while she grabbed two glasses. Silently she mixed a drink for them, more alcohol than coke but having something else in it made her feel better about drinking anyway.

She led him back to the living room and sat down on the couch. "Here's how this is going to go. We're gonna drink these drinks, have a nice long adult conversation, and I'm not going to freak out on you again."

He nodded, taking a long drink from the glass and then eying it in surprise. "You tryin' to get me drunk first?"

"Tell me about your brother," she said suddenly and noted that he seemed to tense.

He stared at her for a few long moments but she didn't look away. She wanted to know more about him and his family, his past and what his plans for the future may be, because earlier she was sure that they had made the decision to see where this could go and she couldn't actually do that until she knew him.

~H~

He finished the drink quickly after that, regarding the empty glass thoughtfully before getting up and fixing himself another without even asking her. He knew what this was. She wanted to know what the fuck she was getting herself into and he had a feeling that once he started talking, she wasn't going to see the same man that she had seen before. He did what he could but his family had a reputation and he couldn't run from it. Couldn't distance himself from it. Not really.

His second drink was straight, nothing but ice and alcohol but she didn't comment on it. Simply waited him out, sipping her own drink. "Merle is always in some sort of trouble. Always has been," he said, unease causing him to take another long drink. "Drugs mostly but that ain't all he's been locked up for over the years. Seems like if there's somethin' bad goin' on, Merle won't hesitate to stick himself right in the middle of it."

"Is he dangerous?" she asked, her voice even.

Daryl nodded and then smiled grimly. "He is to some I guess. It wouldn't be anything you'd have to worry about. He ain't like that." He risked a glance at her but she was studying her glass, her finger running over the rim of it.

"Ed, my ex husband, he was trouble too but not like your brother." Now it was her turn to look up and offer a grim smile of her own. "He was okay at first but as soon as we were married, everything kind of went to hell."

He met her stare and could read what she meant in her eyes and he understood why she'd been nervous earlier. Why maybe she needed the drink to soothe her nerves. She had told him this before but now she was repeating it because it meant something different for him to know. If her husband was okay at first, who was to say Daryl wouldn't end up turning into an ass after a while? She couldn't know that. "Went to hell how?" he asked, glad that this conversation was steering away from him.

"It started out slow. He wanted to control everything I did. He told me who I could talk too, where I could go, how long I could be there. Then he got a little meaner with his words, belittling, always complaining about how I looked, my clothes, clothes he'd make me wear. It just got worse from there." Now it was her turn to take a longer drink of some liquid courage. "I can't... No," she shook her head, "I won't let myself be treated like that again."

"How'd you get out?" he asked, keeping a lid on his own anger. It wasn't easy because the thought of somebody hurting her had him wanting to punch something.

She shrugged. "Sophia. I didn't want her to grow up thinking it was okay to be treated that way. I didn't want to wake up one day and realize that she was next. I had to get out. It wasn't easy by any means and he fought me. He got in touch with me shortly before he was killed, telling me that he had made a mistake and that he wanted his rights to Sophia back. By then I had already legally had her last name changed to my maiden name and he was nothing to either of us. I don't feel guilty for being glad that he was killed. Burglary gone wrong is what the police told me."

"No other family?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I got back in touch with Andrea. She was my oldest friend but I hadn't contacted her since I had married Ed. He hated her. But she helped. Sophia and I lived with her until I found this place and the rest is history."

"I think you did pretty good for yourself," he said, picking at a loose thread on his jeans.

"I think you did too. You own your own business so it's kind of obvious that whatever your brother's vices may be, hasn't effected you."

He grunted. "Ain't always been that way."

They both grew quiet after that, not the heavy awkward kind. It was clear that both of them were lost in thought. He had drained his second glass and was feeling a hell of a lot more relaxed now. He was glad she hadn't asked him much more about his brother.

"Why aren't you married?" she asked, yanking him from his thoughts.

He scowled for a second and then his eyes strayed to her legs. The skirt had ridden up a little, showing more thigh than he was used to seeing. "Never had time for no kind of shit like that. Can't seem to get along with many people and women, for the most part, get on my goddamn nerves."

She laughed then, the sound almost musical but he couldn't look away from her legs. She shifted slightly, the light catching a shiny scar on her inner thigh. "Do I get on your nerves?" she asked, almost playfully.

He shook his head and before he knew what was happening his hand reached out, his fingers brushing the scar that disappeared under the skirt. Slowly his eyes raised up, meeting hers.

"Parting gift," she whispered.

It was then that he realized that what she'd endured at the hands of her husband was a lot worse than he thought. His finger followed the raised line but his eyes were locked on hers. The alcohol he'd consumed hadn't been enough to get him drunk but it was enough to give him a little more courage than he'd normally have when it came to this woman. "No fuckin' wonder you get skittish with me," he muttered.

Her hand covered his, stopping him from moving up another inch and he realized that she probably thought he was just trying to sneak a feel or something. Before he could pull his hand away she stood up and pulled him from the couch. She didn't let go when she turned and started leading him down the hall towards her bedroom. And he sure as hell wasn't going to act like he didn't want to follow.