Thank you for all the reviews! It will be a bit longer between updates this time, my week will be busy :)
Tim had groceries in his house. Not just the condiments that went with take-out, but food for dinner, and breakfast in the morning; and the mind boggling list of ingredients for the brownies he asked for. It should feel weird, having groceries, having Melissa here, having her shoes near the door, and a damp towel in his bathroom that smelled like her shampoo. Somehow the weirdness that he had expected was not there, she was fitting into his world easily, he liked running with her, he liked arguing with her in the middle of the grocery store over what beer went well with steak; he liked watching her order a burger too big for her to eat, and then give half to him, but not before picking the bacon off. He liked her laugh, he liked her blush, and he was certain he loved the way her heartbeat thrummed against his ear in the middle of the night.
Melissa was not pressuring him, did not expect to be entertained or catered to, after they had put groceries away, and had lunch; she had slipped into his living room. Coming back from the spare bedroom he had turned into an office, carrying his rifle case and two hand-guns, he found her still in front of the book case. Quietly he leaned against the wall, watching her, his dark blue gray eyes taking her in. One slim hand ran down the spines of books, pausing on ones he knew she had mentioned reading, tracing the title with gentle fingers. It was the same touch she used on him, feather light he realized, and it had the power to melt him into her and relax him.
Setting his rifle case and guns on the dining room table, he slipped back into the living room. Melissa watched him out of the corner of her eyes, tilting her head up to peek at him through a heavy forest of dark lashes, and out from under her bangs. Coming to a stop beside her, he reached over the top of her head, pulling a book down from a shelf, and held it out to her, using his free hand to sift through her hair, pulling it back from her face.
"Start with this one. It's part of a series", for a moment Tim is lost in doing nothing but play with her hair, curling the dark strands around his calloused fingers and then letting them slip through, only to do it again.
Melissa takes the book, turning and leaning against him, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his shoulder, well muscled and just broad enough for her to lean against, "Feel free to do that all day."
"Play with your hair?" Tim continues to do just that, wrapping his free arm around her back, and pulling her fully against him, "Didn't I do this half the night?"
"You got something more important to do Deputy Marshal?" she leans back enough to look up at him, lifting an eyebrow in challenge, a smirk playing around her lush lips, "You're the one that invited me here."
"Clean my rifle… but I can stand here and play with your hair all day. But only if you're sweet to me", he grins at her, sliding his hands through her hair one more time, and then cupping her face in his hands, dropping a feather light kiss on her forehead, "I feel like I should take you out to dinner or something. Isn't that what we're supposed to do?"
"We bought food for dinner. And you don't have to impress me Tim. Remember what I told you, that it was you that I was here for?" Melissa's free hand curls around his wrist, her fingers covering the cross-hairs he has tattooed on his wrist as she looks up at him, nodding towards the kitchen, where she has spread out the ingredients for brownies over the kitchen island.
Tim nods, tugging her back to him and propping his cheek on top of her head, thankful she is short enough that he can do that, but he still sasses her, smirking as he does, "You're being all sweet to me just to get in my pants."
"I didn't have to work that hard the first time. Or the second. That's gonna change now?" Melissa giggles at Tim's words, burying her face in his shirt as a hot blush steals over her cheeks.
"Not really. You were the one that played hard to get", one hand slides around Melissa's wrist, and Tim tugs her after him to the dining room, wanting her nearby as he goes about his weekly habit of cleaning his rifle and guns.
The book he gave her is forgotten, set down on the wide wood table top, when Tim opens the case and takes the rifle out. He handles the gun gently, carefully, with the sort of reverence due a religious icon, and Melissa smiles at his actions, but her gaze goes back to the rifle. Long used to the routine he has, he slouches comfortably in his chair, and the looks up to find Melissa avidly watching him, and he lifts a brow at her in question, continuing his work, "That interesting?"
"I've never seen one up close. My dad cleaned the gun we had the house, and I've been around the boys when they had theirs, but never a rifle. And never one like that", Melissa nods towards the rifle, as Tim rapidly pulls it apart, his hands moving with an ease that speaks to how often he has done that, her light cerulean gaze stays on his hands, transfixed by his work.
"Did you sit with him when he would do this?" Tim had reached a part that required his attention, and he looked down at his rifle as he worked, grinning at Melissa's interest, genuine interest, in his rifle. Of all the things he knew she liked, strawberry milkshakes, books, Mickey Mouse, bacon cheeseburgers with extra bacon, chocolate, hot cinnamon candy, and him; he had not thought she would be this curious, this interested, in his rifle.
"Yeah. He taught me how to strip and clean the gun he had. Mikey and Mason taught me how to do theirs later on", her eyes take in his movements intently, the heavy layers of dark chocolate hair around her face falling into her bright blue gaze and across her cheekbones as she watches him.
"You know how to strip and clean a gun?" he pauses, looking up from his rifle, disbelief evident in his steely blue gaze, his fingers paused over their work. Melissa hides a lot more than a bookworm behind her china-bright gaze, and he reaches for the smaller of the two Glocks, sliding it over until it sits in front of her, and then looks up at her, gesturing to it, "Prove it."
"Why wouldn't I know how to strip and clean a gun?" she pushes the book he gave her further away as he slides the gun to her, picking it up, automatically unloading the magazine, and then checking for a bullet in the chamber. Another challenge, gleams in his eyes as he looks over at her, and she meets his gaze while she removes the slide from the receiver, "Cause I'm a girl?"
"No. Cause you're you", his expression softens a bit as he watches her, a growing admiration evident in his gaze as he watches hers, his hands resting atop his partially disassembled rifle.
It has been since before she moved to Lexington that she has done this; she frowns in concentration for a moment, and then she sets about stripping the gun, laying each part on the table in a neat arrangement, the same arrangement taught soldiers in basic. It takes her longer than it takes either of her brothers or Tim, she is methodical, and not as comfortable doing this as the men in her life are, but after a few minutes, the gun is stripped down, and she reaches for the cleaning kit.
Still Tim did not move, watching as she cleaned the pieces, slower than he did, but still, she was proving him wrong. While she works, her dark hair falls over her eyes and across her cheekbones, but Tim can see the concentrated frown that furrows her brow. Once Melissa is done cleaning, she starts to put the gun back together, going about her work with the same careful focus that she had pulled it apart.
Finally satisfied with her work, she looks up at him out of the corner of her eyes, grinning triumphantly at him, as she put the last pieces of the gun back into place, "What does being me have to do with it?"
His dark blue gaze has grown smoky and dark, gleaming with want, as she worked, the way she has chewed on her lower lip while she concentrated. Sitting at his dining room table, she has been happily taking apart and cleaning a gun for him; not asking to go somewhere, not wanting to be entertained, or asking him to talk, to answer questions he still had no answers for. Tim moves, standing up from his chair, kicking it backwards with one foot, as Melissa wipes her hands clean on a towel, and he grabs her by the wrist, hauling her out of her chair, before she has time to question him.
His calloused palms cradle her cheeks, holding her face in his hands, and the scent of him, shampoo and soap and clean clothes, and gun oil, leaves Melissa slightly dizzy. Her lips meet his as she rises onto her toes, slim fingers curling into his shoulders, balling his shirt in her hands. His lips are insistent, and hers part easily, her tongue rubbing against his, and then withdrawing, and then rubbing again, in a flirtatious rhythm that has Tim murmuring a protest.
The silence, hot and heavy with want and need, is shattered by Tim's phone, ringing and vibrating on the island in the kitchen. While he does not pull away to answer it, he does break the kiss, leaning his forehead against Melissa, and sighing in irritation. As soon as the ringing stops, it starts again, and cursing, Tim stalks into the kitchen, snatching the phone off the island, and answering it, "Did you shoot someone?"
"I can only call you if I shoot someone?" the grin on Raylan's voice can nearly be heard over the phone.
"You drunk? Call a taxi", tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder, Tim leans against the island, folding his arms across his chest.
"I'm not drunk either. Christ, can't I just call and ask how disastrous your date went last night?" Raylan is still smirking, waiting for his answer.
"Date? Who said anything about a date?" Tim heaves a sigh, but grins at the same time, seeing Melissa peek into the kitchen. As soon as he unfolds his arms, she slips into the kitchen, and then leans against his side, propping her head on his shoulder. He tilts the phone further, letting her listen in, and she has to cover her mouth with one hand to keep from giggling.
"Don't play dumb with me Deputy Marshal Gutterson. You left yesterday with Melissa. I just assumed you guys went out on a date. And since we're talking about you, it probably went badly", the first hints of impatience are evident in Raylan's words.
"Melissa? You mean that short girl from CAPS? With the dark hair? And those big blue eyes. And that ass? She's still here", Tim answers Raylan with enough information to leave Melissa scarlet to the tips of her ears, grinning arrogantly down at her, running one hand up and down her back as he talks.
"What?" it takes a few moments for Raylan to answer, the disbelief in his voice evident to both Tim and Melissa.
"Hi Raylan. Are you bored or something? I've got some single friends if you need something to do on a Saturday", although she blushes, Melissa leans up to speak into the phone, her words dripping with southern charm and sweetness.
"Melissa? You're there? You stayed the night? I mean.. wait.. what did you do?" Raylan trips over his words, earning him a giggle from Melissa.
"You must have flunked biology. I'm sure you can figure it out on your own", running his fingers through Melissa's hair, Tim grins at her, his shoulders shaking from the effort it takes him to keep from laughing.
"I can't believe you didn't screw it all up. Rachel, shut up, I know I owe you $20 now," Raylan cups the phone, not enough to keep Tim and Melissa from hearing his words, although neither can make out Rachel's response.
"Given your track record with women, I don't know if I'd be making bets about how I do on a date." Tim's eyes are closed as he speaks; Melissa is pressing kisses into his jaw and down his neck, tiny little soft kisses, leaving a tingling trail down his skin.
"What is that supposed to mean?" the older marshal huffs in annoyance, rustling in the background giving him away as he hands over the bet money, and in the background they can hear Rachel laughing.
"You know shit about women", even with his eyes closed, Tim can find the hem on Melissa's shirt, and starts to tug it up, keeping the phone carefully balanced between his shoulder and his ear.
"You know less." Raylan heaves an irritated sigh at the dig.
"Bye Raylan." Tim moves, letting the phone slide from his shoulder, and grabbing it with a free hand, as Melissa's shirt slides up over her head, leaving her in a white tank top and jeans.
"Wait wait.. Art is having everyone over tomorrow. Did you forget?"
"Uhhhh…" heaving a sigh, Tim slides the phone back up to his ear, holding it with one hand.
"That's a yes. You promised you'd go. Bring Melissa." Raylan sighs, shaking his head as he slides from the booth in the diner, dropping a few bills on the table for a tip, having drug Rachel out for lunch, mostly to find out what she knew about Tim and Melissa.
"What if we have plans?" his calloused fingers play with the strap of Melissa's tank top, sliding it down her arm, and then back up, trailing over her smooth skin, dotted with a few freckles. Suddenly Tim is reminded that he wanted to count them all, and he huffs impatiently into the phone, wanting Raylan to hurry up.
"Tim, bring Melissa. And since you can hear this, Melissa, you're coming to Art's tomorrow. If Tim shows up without you, I'll come get you." Raylan is smirking as he speaks into the phone, imagining the blush Melissa must be wearing.
"What if neither of us show up?" Melissa's voice is slightly muffled, her lips pressed to Tim's neck as she speaks, her fingers sliding the buckle of his belt open, and then going for the button on his jeans.
"I will come get both of you."
"What if we're busy?" Tim asks the question, his hand trails down her back and then back up, running his calloused fingers over the back of her neck.
"Busy doing what? Never mind. I passed biology with an A." the older marshal sighs into the phone, rolling his eyes upward.
"Smart man. Bye Raylan", Tim dugs the strap of Melissa's tank top down, leaving it there, his fingers running up through her hair as he leans forward to press a kiss to her shoulder.
"You know Melissa, I didn't figure you to be the type to spend the night with a man after the first date."
"I just hadn't found the right man to spend the night with. Bye Raylan." Melissa cannot hide the catch in her voice as Tim kisses her shoulder, chills breaking out across her skin, and she blushes, knowing Raylan probably suspects what they have been doing while on the phone with him.