A/N: My thanks for this chapter go to the exceptionally handsome cowboy in the white Stetson I saw the other night while out with a friend. It also goes to all of you, of course, for sticking around even with all these long breaks in the middle. I promise we're getting to the good bits now. As such, from here on out, we'll just leave it at a solid warning for adult language and adult situations which may be unsuitable for some viewers. They could pop up at any time, so you've been warned. ;-)

Enjoy!

Chapter 20

By the time the sun was setting that evening, Evie was glad to find that most of the work had been completed. Of course, she had been reassured that there would be more work throughout the week, but at least the next day would be one of relaxation for her and for everyone else involved. She needed a day off more than anything, and she would be damned if she did anything having to do with ranch business, including worrying about dealing with interested buyers or cleaning out her father's things…

However, by eight that night, she was sitting alone in an eerily quiet, empty house with nothing to do but listen to her thoughts. And those thoughts were making her crazy.

Charlie had disappeared once again with Donald—which was no surprise after the scene with the hammer today—and the others still refused to warm up to her. She had tried desperately to relate to them throughout the day, but they had remained resistant, especially Natasha, who had shown up with platters of food for the workers' lunch.

She also didn't have any work to do actually pertaining to the research she had left in England, since no one was back there processing anything through the system. Charlie may have completed the initial documentations, but there was still a heap of work to do. But, frankly, she didn't know if she even wanted to have work on the subject any longer, so it was nice to not have to worry about it.

She knew that if she moseyed over to downtown Prescott, all the shops but the bars would be closed. Drinking alone was never fun. There would be some activity in the valley, but she knew those activities were limited as well, after her outing to the arcade with Steve.

The thought of the man made a strange sound bubble up her throat. It was a mixture of long suffering sigh and a moan of pleasure, ending in a self-deprecating laugh. Their short interactions since returning to the ranch had been awkward at worst and mildly friendly at most. She knew she had hurt him by closing the door in his face, but she couldn't let herself feel sorry. It would only make her weak against him.

And yet… she wanted him. More than she had ever wanted someone else. He was the antithesis to everything she had ever considered important, and he was, somewhat ironically, the man who turned out to be the only one who genuinely cared for her.

Evie groaned and buried her head into the pillows on the couch. She had to stop thinking like this, and she certainly couldn't go to bed. If she went to bed, there was always a chance that she could have another one of those dreams. And she didn't need that clouding her judgement.

She sat up and looked around the dimly lit room, trying to decide what to do so as not to go completely insane. When no opportunity presented itself, she went to the kitchen where she had left her computer earlier. There had been a movie theater at the shopping complex with the arcade. Maybe there was something playing.

There were the requisite horror movies for the season, and then the new releases, but last on the list was a movie marathon that instantly piqued her interest. Still, she didn't want to do that alone. Maybe he'd like to go out? What would it hurt anyway?

Probably a lot, if she wasn't careful. That last time they had gone out as friends, he had ended up kissing her and regretting it instantly. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all.

Even with that thought prominent in her mind, her feet carried her right to his front door and she loudly knocked twice. When she didn't get an answer, she knocked again. Mid-knock, the door opened wide to a sight in which she was not prepared to see. Clearly still damp from a hot shower, he held a towel around his trim hips with one fist while he drip dried onto the ground. Little curlicues of steam rose from his scorched skin and dissipated into thin air. He smelled delicious; it was that heady, clean masculine scent of soap and aftershave she had come to associate with him. Her mouth watered and yet felt parched as she watched—at eye level—the cold night air pucker the perfectly shaped nipples.

He had been preparing to berate whoever was at the door, but the words died on his lips when his eyes fell on her. For the briefest of moments he froze in his spot, but was able to mobilize quickly. "Give me a couple seconds."

With that, the door slammed in her face. He bumped around his apartment, and she was sure he must have stubbed a toe because he let out a rushed curse. Evie giggled to herself, trying to make sure that the memory of his nearly nude body was seared into her brain. The door finally pulled back as he was sticking his left arm through a shirt and pulling it down over his chest. It was such a shame, that. Michelangelo's David didn't need covering, why should Steve Rogers?

"Sorry," he replied. "I thought it was an emergency… something with the animals or the festival stuff."

"Oh, no," Evie said. "I'm sorry if I alarmed you."

But I'm not really sorry, she mused with a small smirk. She tore her eyes away from his now sadly covered chest and looked up at him.

"I, uh, wanted to come apologize for what happened earlier… you know, when we got back from Phoenix," she said.

His tense body relaxed and leaned against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his chest. "I'm fine, Evie."

"Really?" she asked.

He nodded slowly.

"Oh, well… good," she replied. It didn't explain anything, and honestly she was more confused now than she had been earlier in the day.

"Is that all you needed?"

She nodded her head and turned to go, but stopped herself. "Wait, no. I came to see if you, uh, would like to go catch a movie with me tonight."

It took him completely by surprise. That much was evident. But once he made sense of the words, he seemed amenable to the thought. Still, he retorted, "What will people think about us? Are you sure you want that?"

"Okay, that hurt." She sighed. "But I deserved it."

"You did."

Evie pursed her lips together. So this was Steve's standoffish, dour side. It wasn't terrible, but it still made her feel an inch tall. After a few moments of silence, she opened her mouth. "I just want to go out with you, Steve. Every time we do something together, I have fun and it gets my mind off of things…"

"What are you trying to get your mind off of?" he questioned. "The ranch?"

You. But she didn't voice it because it would only sound more ludicrous. Maybe a little reverse psychology would help cure her of wanting him so badly.

"I want to spend quality time with someone I like," she replied.

A small smile curved his lips. "What movie?"

"There's an Indiana Jones marathon at the movie theater. I don't like horror movies and none of the new releases interest me," she said.

"Which one?" he asked.

"If we leave soon, we can make it for Last Crusade," she said.

Steve's grin widened. "Give me a few to pull myself together. I'll meet you out by the truck."

Evie nodded her head and turned to go get her things, trying desperately to ignore the lightness in her step or the flutter in her belly.

As Evie sank into one of the high-backed rocker chairs at the movie theater, she, not for the first time, questioned her choice in inviting him out. Despite the fact that he had seemed to forgive her for earlier in the day, there was still a tension there. A very real, uneasy tension that Evie struggled to describe. It was a mix of lust and sex, at least on her part, and pained standoffishness on his part. Well, not really just his part. She'd been standoffish because she refused to let him touch her in those little ways she had become accustomed to over the last week, like the large warm hand on her back to guide her through a crowd. Or the subtle brush of fingers and arms as she stepped down off the truck and he held the door of her. Or when their hands accidentally bumped as they walked beside it each other.

It made Evie feel like a grade school kid again, giggly and blushing and entirely improper. And yet, no grade school kid would constantly have the thought of those same hands doing dirty, amazing things to her repeatedly. At least, they shouldn't be thinking about that stuff. She, however, wasn't so lucky. As an adult, she felt the full force of her need to feel his hands on her.

So it was just better to remain a decent distance from him for as much as she could manage. She'd accomplished some distance in agreeing to let him get snacks while she found seats, but it was only a matter of time before he would reappear.

Unfortunately, the theater seats were close and it would be odd if she put a seat between them.

She sighed, trying to gather her wits about her. Instead, she watched people coming in and looking up at the top tier of the stadium seating for seats or their parties that had already arrived. There were a few people she recognized from the goings on around town, but mostly they passed her right by as they found their seats. It wasn't until Steve walked into the room that the atmosphere changed drastically.

Evie knew he was popular around town, she just hadn't realized how popular. Maybe inviting him out in public—alone—wasn't such a good idea after all. Evie knew the expediency in which gossip traveled in small towns like this. Even though they were in the more populated and metropolitan valley area, it would still spread like wild fire. It wasn't so much that she didn't want to be seen with him; actually, she liked the idea of being associated with him. However, she didn't want people to think negatively about her.

She knew she had to get over herself. There were issues in her past and also with how she dealt with people and her father's estate. If Steve still deigned to spend time with her in public, there had to be something worthwhile within her. No man was so good as to humor anyone they could not stand to be around. And frankly, it was their problem if they didn't see it… or if she never felt anything worthwhile.

He carried with him a large bag of popcorn and a soda, his blue eyes making a sweep of the seating. When his eyes landed on her, he smiled and made his way up the stairs like a cat, graceful and lithe. He shimmied past another couple sitting in the row she had chosen and stopped beside her to put the drink into the drink holder between their seats.

"Hold this for me?" he asked, handing the popcorn over to her.

She accepted the bag of popcorn and took a few of the popped kernels from the top. "Thanks. Now go get your own."

He laughed and shook his head. He slipped his brown leather jacket off and sat into his seat, laying it across his lap before grabbing the popcorn from her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied with a laugh, resting an arm on the armrest and training her eyes on the preshow advertisements on the screen.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him sprinkle salt on the top layer from a tiny packet, shake the bag and then hold it out to her. "You want some more?"

"No, I'm good," she said.

"You sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure." Evie laughed and shook her head. And with that, the lights lowered for the start of the movie previews and Evie relaxed into her seat.

This was right. It felt right. Steve was probably the easiest person to get along with, and his mere presence comforted her in a way she had never felt before. Despite all her worries about how people would perceive her or her relationship with him, she couldn't in good conscience keep denying the fact that she wanted to spend all her time with him. Even if it wasn't romantic, she would be happy just to be with him.

Evie let out a heavy, relaxed sigh. Steve's free hand nudged hers on the armrest. When she glanced at him, he raised one questioning blond brow at her. Clearly her sigh had been too dramatic, even though it was meant to cleanse away the toil from earlier in the day worrying about the others watching them and their opinions.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly to reassure him that she was okay. When she began to remove her hand, he kept a secure hold by looping a thumb around her fingers. Then he lifted it to his mouth and kissed the knuckles lightly, ever so chastely, and then released it. Evie collected her hand and folded it in her lap again, trying desperately to ignore the tingling electricity rocketing through her body and originating from that spot on the back of her hand.

She was confused and slightly aroused and giddy and completely uninterested in the movie as young River Phoenix appeared on the screen.

As they were leaving the theater a few hours later, Evie thanked the gods that the movie was one she had seen countless times and in which she could recite the lines. Because she was certain that if anyone were to ask her about the movie—had she never seen it—she wouldn't be able to recount one bit about it. She'd been too preoccupied with the awareness of the man sitting beside her.

He hadn't done anything else surprising through the rest of the movie, but the impact of his lips on her person, no matter how chaste they had been, was violent and long lasting. This kiss was no mistake. It was chivalrous and sneaky and old fashioned. It meant more than friendship, but she wasn't quite certain how much more. All she knew was that the things had suddenly changed in that small, mostly innocuous moment. Or, perhaps, they had already changed and she hadn't noticed it until now?

He'd met her eyes briefly as he released her hand, and she knew he had meant it this time. But that also made her question everything else. He'd said the kiss he'd given her a few days ago had been a mistake. Had it not been a mistake? Had she pushed him to admit that it was because she refused or found it impossible to believe that he could see in her someone worthy of his affection—someone greater than his late fiancée?

When they stepped out into the hallway, she looked up at him and smiled. "I'm going to pop into the loo."

He smiled and nodded his head. "I'll wait just outside the doors to get out of the crowd."

"Awesome," she said. She watched him walk away for a second before following the line into the bathroom. There was always a line in the women's toilet.

As the last in line, she was grateful when she finally reached a stall. But her gratefulness didn't last for long as she watched two pairs of legs pass beneath the bottom of her stall from the entrance of the bathroom. The women gabbed back and forth, and it was only because of the names on their lips that she paid attention.

"Can you believe Steve brought her?" said one woman.

"Why not?" said another.

"Maria's been trying to get him to notice her for ages, and this chick comes along and all of a sudden he gets all googly-eyed over her? What's she got that Maria doesn't have?"

"The ranch," said the second.

"Steve wouldn't use her for the ranch," said the first one. "He's not like that."

"Well, then, it's a damn good thing Maria's not here tonight, because I don't want to listen to her bitch about not getting what she wanted," the other replied. "Steve can go out with who he wants."

The original girl chuckled. "She must suck the bedsheets up his ass. I've never seen him actually go out before with someone that wasn't a friend."

Evie cringed at the words coming from the women. She knew women liked to talk, but this was somewhat ridiculous.

"I'm sure she has some good qualities. Maria's rundown was from her perspective."

"Yeah, but everyone else I've talked to about her has said she's pretty bitchy."

The legs passed by her stall again, commenting on something else. Evie sighed, finished her business and left the bathroom after washing her hands. As she turned the corner into the main lobby area, she noticed that Steve stood outside. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he shifted on the weight of his feet, speaking with two women.

The two women had the same pants and shoes of those that had passed by her stall. They looked to be about Maria's age, maybe a little older.

Steve must have sensed her because he turned and smiled the handsome boyish half grin as she stepped outside. As she stopped beside him, he wrapped an arm securely around her shoulders. "Evie, this is Sharon and Emily. Sharon and Emily work in the mayor's office with Maria."

"Nice to meet you," Evie said, offering her hand. The handshakes were, at least, genuine even if their smiles didn't reach their eyes. If only Steve knew what they'd been talking about a few minutes ago.

The woman he had introduced as Sharon smiled. "We should be going. See you later, Steve… Evie."

They waved and turned hastily away to go their car. Steve glanced down at her. "You ready?"

Evie nodded, her mind racing as he guided her through the dark parking lot to his truck. He hadn't removed his arm from around her, and when she realized that belatedly, she also realized she didn't want him to remove it, step away and leave her cold. Steve's presence, as comforting as ever, relaxed her and made her think of stupid things.

Like kissing him.

She should have realized, also, that maybe it wasn't the best time to test out theories that had been growing within her head all day. But the opportunity presented itself as she placed a foot on the running board to step up into the truck, but slipped a bit. Steve had been there holding the door and reached out to steady her. One large, warm hand had gripped her hip through her jeans, but it had landed in such a way in his haste to stop her descent that his thumb teased at the skin above the waistband.

"I can be really clutzy sometimes," she giggled as she righted herself and slipped into the seat.

She turned her head to look at him; he was close enough that she could feel the heat of his body and smell the faintness of soap and aftershave that lingered from his shower hours ago. He stood at eye level with her sitting in the elevated vehicle. It was the perfect opportunity without having to combat the awkward height difference. When he began to step back in preparation to shut the car door, Evie took her chance and reached out for him, grabbing at the collar of his leather coat and pulling him toward her.

He was surprisingly malleable to her whim and stepped forward, meeting her lips. His lips were warm and sweet, but filled with an intensity she had not expected from her surprise attack. However, it was infinitely disappointing when the bubble of the moment burst and everything changed. He tensed and his hands shot up to hers, uncurling her fingers from the grasp they had on his collar. She reluctantly let go and shifted back, not wanting to open her eyes and have to face the feeling of dejection his actions had created. She didn't want it confirmed in his eyes.

She didn't want to know what she'd find in their blue depths. Maybe she had read the signs wrong. If only she had just talked to him before doing anything… she owed him that courtesy knowing everything that she did about him.

Steve turned away without saying anything and shut the door. It wasn't harsh, but it certainly wasn't careful or soft. When he climbed into the driver's seat, his demeanor brooked no conversation, so she sat staring straight ahead with a million thoughts racing through her head and none of them making sense or making her feel overly good about herself.

The ride was deadly silent through the busy valley area and out onto the state highway that led to the ranch. But she couldn't be left alone with her thoughts. It was unbearable. "Steve… I…"

He didn't look at her. His hands tensed around the steering wheel. "You what?"

"I-I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to…"

Steve must have grown annoyed because he huffed. His following actions confirmed it. He hit the brakes and slowed to a stop on the side of the dark highway. "You didn't mean to what?"

"It's just that… I thought…" She paused when she realized that the annoyance and anger wasn't exactly directed at her. Of course, she was sure it did have something to do with her, but he seemed to have closed himself off from her for a different reason. Was he protecting himself?

"Steve…" she said, turning in her seat and reaching out for him.

He moved back as much as a man constrained by a seatbelt could conceivably move. "Evie… I just can't get a read on you. One minute you're kissing me out back at Clint and Nat's, and the next you don't remember it. And then you think my kiss the other night was a mistake."

Evie watched him. His anger was barely restrained, but she knew him well enough to know it wouldn't lash out and strike. "But the way… wait! When the hell did I kiss—"

Oh, god. She was never, ever… ever drinking again.

"I thought…" he began, "I thought you, er, wanted more with me. And I realized I wanted more, so I convinced myself to make a move the next night. And you got angry and shoved me away. I didn't think you wanted anything to happen."

Evie sighed. God, wasn't it just like her to bungle everything with quite possibly her only chance at having a decent partner in life.

"I thought you were regretting the decision to kiss me! That… that… your past was too much for you to overcome. That's why I was angry! Not because you were kissing me!" she exclaimed. "I was angry because I was very emotionally invested in that kiss, and I couldn't take someone else building me up with promises they could never keep! Why didn't you tell me yesterday evening that it wasn't a mistake?!"

That silenced him. It took a few long, excruciating seconds before he turned to look at her and spoke in an even, absurdly calm tone given the situation. "Evie, I'm not good at this stuff. I know it sounds ridiculous coming from a man my age… but you have to understand I have very limited knowledge in matters of the heart. For the first half of my life I could barely talk to women, much less express my attraction to them; my relationship with Peggy was a matter of circumstance. We always had work to get us through the silent, awkward moments and things moved on without needing to be discussed or explained. And since then, I've kept away from every woman that you can think of, so you can imagine my growth is a little stunted in the area. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I thought it was what you wanted to believe… that it was a mistake."

"So it wasn't a mistake?"

"No."

"Then why did you freeze up like that when I kissed you back there?" she asked.

He looked at her sheepishly. "Because I didn't want to start this damned thing all over again."

"You were the one who kissed my hand in the middle of the movie!" she exclaimed. "You thought I was just going to leave it like that?"

"I just didn't expect that kiss," he remarked. "I admit I behaved poorly."

A long silence spread between them except for the hum of the motor in the parked vehicle. Evie just didn't know what to say. Of course she knew the answers to her questions now, she just didn't know what to do about them. Where did it leave them?

Where—?

Steve reached out for her, his hand resting on her cheek and turning her face to him. "I'm sorry any of this confusion had to happen."

Evie shook her head. "I'm sorry for kissing you while drunk and not remembering it. I can't believe I didn't remember it."

"It's probably better that you don't," he replied.

"Why?" she asked.

He shook his head, saw his opportunity, and swooped in, claiming her lips—and her—once and for all. The strength yet gentleness of his lips were intoxicating as he reached up and threaded his hands in her hair to pull her closer. She, searching for closeness, inched forward but found herself stymied by the restrictive seatbelt. Evie reached down and undid the belt; in one fluid movement she pulled back from him, divested herself of the obstacle and inched closer to him across the bench seat.

She didn't know if it was the wisest move, because even that wasn't close enough. Evie reached out for him, grasping at the collar of his jacket again; she needed leverage to keep her tethered to the world around her. His lips were far more dangerous a weapon than she had ever thought possible. Despite his self proclaimed ineptitude in expressing himself, the man knew exactly what he was doing in his actions. He showed his feelings through deed rather than words.

His soft lips kissed the corner of her mouth as his hands shifted, taking a path along her neck where his lips then brushed near his thumb that teased at the point where her earlobe and jaw met. She made a soft sound, one alien to even her. It was a purr. A moan, but better.

Her belly danced a jig as she shifted closer to him, searching for a better position in the small space. Then one of his hands landed on her hip and slipped around to her arse and coaxed her to move. So she followed his lead, squeezing into the tiny sliver of room between him and the steering wheel to straddle his legs.

If she weren't kissing him, she'd question how the hell she'd been able to even make it into that position—the physics of the situation shouldn't have been possible—but she was glad that they had been. An image of her dream from that morning popped into her head and she was unable to control the movement of her hips, grinding against him, yearning for friction and blessed release.

A groan surfaced on his lips, but she silenced him with a kiss. His hands didn't seem to know where to rest, as they made a perusal of her rear, her hips, until they finally slipped beneath her jacket and her shirt. The labor-roughened fingers fanned out on her skin, flaming a fire on their path, sweeping up her back and edging along the closure of her bra.

Evie sat back on his thighs—as much as the space would allow—effectively ending the kiss, but not the moment. His wonderful hands fell back down to her hips without snapping the closure open.

He was beautiful sitting there in the low moonlight, thoroughly aroused and a predatory look in his eyes. It was a new side of the normally sweet Steve Rogers she had not expected, but she liked it. She suddenly, if at all possible, felt even warmer.

She reached for her jacket, but paused. Did she really want to start with the removal of clothing? Were they… was he ready for that? How inexperienced was he really? What if…?

He answered her questions wordlessly as his hands covered hers, helping her to slip out of the jacket and toss it aside in her vacated seat. Steve pulled her back to him, kissing her lips with a renewed fire. Hands were again sweeping up her sides and back, giving her goosebumps and making her breasts tighten in anticipation for his touch.

Just when she expected to feel the exquisite rough tenderness of his fingers on her breasts, he froze. It took her a moment to orient herself with the surroundings, but then she realized that someone was at the door and shining a bright flashlight through the fogged windows.

A flurry of activity ensued, mostly her cursing because they'd been interrupted and then cursing when she bumped her head on the ceiling and her rear hit the steering column, making the horn sound like a sonic boom in the quiet night. She fell into her own seat and rubbed her head as Steve desperately tried to collect himself. Spinning red and blue lights in the rearview mirror confirmed her suspicions.

"Of course," she said, half annoyed and half laughingly.

Steve ran his hands through his messy hair and then breathed in a deep breath before rolling down the window. The stern looking man on the other side of the window made her do a double take.

"Are you having car trouble?"

Steve let out a rueful chuckle and laid his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. "Clint."

"Steve," said the man, fighting to keep a smile at bay. "You know we beef up patrol out here around festival time."

"I know."

"I thought it was strange that your truck would be parked out here in the middle of nowhere. But now I see why."

"I don't understand what's going on. I thought you owned a bar," Evie said.

Clint flashed his light on her, taking in her appearance, and rolling his eyes. "I'm a volunteer patrol officer. I'm on duty tonight."

"Oh," she said. It sounded hollow, but also somewhat pissed.

"Take it on home, kids," said Clint as he clipped his flashlight back onto his tool belt.

Steve chuckled and hung his head. "Thank you, officer." It was said with no little amount of sarcasm.

Clint smirked and began to turn away.

"Clint?" Steve asked.

"Hmm?" said the man.

"I can trust that you're not going to report this stop to the chief, right?"

Clint looked at him and shook his head.

Steve gave him a hard look. "I mean the other chief."

"I can't believe you expect me to keep something like this from Tasha," Clint said. "You know she is relentless."

"Just try. Please?"

Clint nodded his head. "I make no promises. Have a good nigh—no, have a great night."

Steve rolled up his window and watched in the rearview mirror as Clint walked back to his patrol car and turned his car around. After a few moments of silence, in which Evie did not know what to say, Steve put the car into drive and they started down the road again. In no time, he had pulled into and parked in his spot at the ranch. He walked her to the door and paused, looking down at her.

"I'm going to say goodnight for now," he said.

Evie nodded dolefully. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than for him to join her upstairs in bed, but she knew Clint's interruption was fortuitous. It saved Steve from going too fast too soon, and it kept her from being her stereotypical self. They needed time together with their clothes on before moving forward. Steve would have to talk and connect on a verbally intimate level, and she would have the time to actually be in a relationship built on something more than her need for emotional fulfillment through sex.

She sighed and reached up to run a hand through her hair. She paused to rub the sore spot on her head unconsciously. "Are you hurt?"

"Huh?" she asked.

"When you, uh…"

"Oh, it's just a little bump. I'm fine," she giggled.

Steve grinned and leaned in, placing an impossibly gentle kiss on the top of her head, and then one on her lips. "Good?"

"All better," she said.

"Good night."

"Night," she intoned, letting herself into the quiet house. This time, her aloneness didn't feel so alone, but she wondered if, once again, she wasn't just substituting intimacy for what she truly needed. Quickly dashing the thought away, she turned the lights off and went upstairs to bed.

Alone.