It was Friday night, two weeks later, and he was heading to the airport for Jackson, for the second week in a row. He had come back to the office to grab a report he needed to look at before Monday and had forgotten in his haste to catch his flight. Fortunately, as he tended to be early for things, he still had time. He had grabbed the folder and was heading for the door when he heard one of the upper-level bosses, Nora's cousin if he remembered correctly, and another man's voice he didn't recognize, and for some reason, Miranda's name.

"I'm telling you Daryl, McCallister's daughter has been stringing Charlie Arnoult along for years. I hear that their collective parents have practically arranged a marriage for them. He's not the hold up, she is. Apparently, she's a bit of a whore. Left the Cummings wedding with some other dude, and not the first time she's done something like that to him either. Not sure why the guy puts up with that shit. I mean she's hot and all and she's loaded, but it's not like the Arnoult's aren't."

"I don't know, Mark. Nora's friends with her. Maybe you don't have all the information."

"I know I overheard her talking on the house phone promising to suck some other guy's cock, at the Baltimore dinner just this past Tuesday, while she was there with Arnoult."

Ken felt his blood start to boil. He had been that guy on the phone, while she had apparently been out with another man. His and Miranda's relationship was far from public knowledge. But, he wasn't sure who his rising anger was directed at, the asshole daring to talk about Miranda like that, himself for being a fool, or the woman in question. He had to stop himself from storming into the nearby office to confront the two men, but that would likely lead to his fists flying, and he needed this job. He was also nothing if not direct when confronting problems and the answers lay with one Miranda McCallister. He'd be giving her a piece of his mind tonight that much was certain. Unfortunately, he was somehow going to have to wait until his flight landed in Jackson and he got to the house. He had a bad feeling the weekend was not going to turn out to what he had been looking forward to.

He had flown out to see her in Wyoming for the first time a week ago. She had picked him up at the airport in a souped-up Bronco that she explained was one of the property vehicles. It was totally not what he expected to see her driving. He wasn't sure what he was expecting but it wasn't that. She was dressed casually in skinny jeans, slip on boots, and a button-down flannel. So not Miranda-ish. She had actually apologized for her appearance, explaining something about an electrician having a problem and something running long. He thought she had never looked better. He had been so distracted by her long legs, it took him until about the third time that she had ground the gears to realize that she wasn't comfortable driving a stick shift, and he had made her pullover so he could drive. It had then taken them about fifteen minutes to get back into the car after attacking each other on the side of the road.

When he tore his eyes from her long enough, the scenery was breath taking. His issue was the brunette next to him, repeatedly taking his breath away. He had been impressed by the grounds and stone mansion she had directed him to drive to. There was a second building next to it, that she had referred to as the carriage house, that was almost as large. Building materials littered the grounds, covered in an array of tarps. There were ladders, piles of stone and lumbar. He didn't see much more before he found himself, lips locked to hers, and somehow making their way up a dusty curved staircase, and falling into her bed. When she brought him back to the local airport for his Sunday night flight home, she apologized for not getting him out for any sight-seeing. They had barely left her bedroom. She had asked him to come back out again the next week, assuring him that she'd send another ticket and that she'd get him out to see the mountains.

So that's why he now found himself still stewing and disembarking the small plane after his changeover in Chicago. On top of it all, she had called last night to tell him that her father had come out for a mid-week visit to check on the progress with estate and would be leaving around the same time he was arriving, so he'd have to get a cab from the airport. He had kept his temper in check for the most part in dealing with the stewardess, the woman with the two cranky toddlers in the seat in front of him, and the cabbie, who wanted to talk a blue streak about his brother's bison herd. But when he finally got to the front door of the estate, his suppressed rage was ready to rumble.

Miranda opened the door looking as beautiful as always. She had on some kind of floaty sky-blue dress. He barely registered dropping his bag to the floor and went right into her personal space.

Miranda knew something was off the second she opened the door. The air around him was just 'heated'. She backed up from him, until her back hit the wall behind her at the landing of the staircase and his flat hand smacked loudly into the wall next to her head. She was used to his dramatic entrances but usually it involved passion of a different sort. "Ke.." she started.

"Who the fuck is Charlie fucking Arnoult!" he spat.

Miranda swallowed. She knew he was obviously stronger than her, and he could definitely be scary, but she was not going to let him intimidate her or treat her like this. She straightened up to her full height. At five eleven, she did at least have about an inch on him. "Ken," she spoke through her teeth, "back the fuck up."

"Tell me," he gritted back at her, but he did at least do her the courtesy of taking a half step back.

"Why do you know that name?" she countered. "Why are you asking me this?"

"When were you going to tell me that I was just a fling? Your fucktoy?" he hissed.

"Is that what you think? And I seem to remember you calling me that!" Oh, hell no, the gloves were off.

"It's not the same thing and you know it!"

"Ken! Where is this coming from!?"

"Where were you Tuesday night!? And I ask you again, who the fuck is Arnoult!?"

Ok, now they were at least getting somewhere. The problem was, she couldn't tell him the whole story. She did owe him an explanation. She just needed to figure out a way to tell him enough to calm him down. "It's just business," she tried.

"LIKE HELL!" he roared, stepping back into her space and this time slamming his fist into the wall in about the same spot as earlier. Bits of plaster came away with his hand and the covered over painting three feet away wobbled dangerously.

OK, wrong approach. Fortunately, the workmen weren't remotely done with this room yet, but she wasn't sure how she was supposed to explain the fist-sized hole in the wall from apparently one raging green-eyed monster. She squared her shoulders, "Ken, I'm warning you."

This time he didn't back up, but caged her in, a hand on either side of the wall by her head, including his right, just next to the broken plaster.

She tried again, "It's not what you think."

"Then tell me what I'm supposed to think, Miranda."

"You want me to trust you? Then you have to trust me, too. It works both ways."

"I thought I did," he retorted.

"I owe you an explanation, but you have to calm down enough for me to give it to you."

"I'm waiting," he about sneered.

Ok, so much for calm. "Charlie's a good family friend. He's been a friend since we were preteens. Technically, he was my date for the wedding."

Ken vaguely remembered some guy with dark red hair and a beard standing next to her at the church, but she had been alone at the bar. "Technically, he was also your date for dinner Tuesday night, while you were on the phone telling me you were going to suck my cock!"

Miranda ignored his crassness. Throwing her words back at her when she had been being playful wasn't fair.

Ken kept going, "You didn't even tell me you were in Maryland. What else aren't you telling me?"

"It wasn't relevant."

Ken had all he could do not to put a matching hole in the wall on the other side of her head. "It wasn't relevant," he muttered under his breath. He lifted his eyes to glare at her, "HOW THE FUCK IS IT NOT RELEVANT, MIRANDA!"

"Look! I'm not sleeping with Charlie. I'm sleeping with you, just you, but at the moment I'm beginning to question that decision. Charlie's a friend that's it. I've only ever kissed him, like once, and I think I was twelve." She wasn't about to tell him that it had been her first kiss. Both of them agreeing that they had wanted to get it over with. She didn't think that little piece of information was going to help her case right now. "This isn't Charlie's fault, and it isn't my grandparent's house's fault either, now stop putting holes in the God damn walls! If you need to take it out on someone, take it out on me!"

Ken didn't move, he just stared at her. What the fuck was she talking about? He didn't care how livid he was, he wasn't going to hit a woman, hence why there was currently a mark in the wall and not her face.

Miranda stared daggers right back at him. "Ken, did you hear me? I said, take it out on me," then she grabbed his crotch hard, with his resulting groan, it clicked, sex, angry, pissed off sex. Oh, yeah, that he could do.

A sound that could only be described as an animalistic growl passed his lips and he grabbed her face with both hands and dove his lips and tongue onto to hers. Her head hit the wall behind her, fortunately not nearly as hard as his hand had a few minutes earlier. He held her, locked in his embrace, and proceeded to punish her mouth with his own. She fought to come up for air and twisted away from him to move up the stairs. He made a grab for her retreating ankle, and she fell onto the stairs, landing hard, smacking one knee and one elbow. "Ow! Fucking Asshole!" she bit out at him. "Fuck that hurt!" She was probably going to bruise, and he was going to feel bad about it later, but right now he had other more pressing concerns. He rolled her over and slammed his lips back onto hers.

Miranda thought about biting him as he plunged his wicked tongue back into her mouth, but decided against it, she needed that tongue whole. She also thought about bringing a swift knee up into his nether region but that was also going to serve the opposite effect of what she needed out of him.

She twisted and clawed her way up the stairs, and he allowed it. The chase was half the fun anyway.

Once she felt him release her, she scrambled her way up the staircase, still somewhat using her hands, and he pushed himself up and tore after her. He reached her in the upstairs hall. She looked like a deer in the headlights, apparently having paused too long in deciding which way to run.

Ken had no such indecisiveness. He strode purposefully right towards her. Not giving her a chance to react, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, holding her tight with one hand locked on her ass and the other on her upper thighs. If she wanted him as a Neanderthal, that was exactly what she was going to get.

He marched her down the hall to where he vaguely remembered her bedroom to be, and kicked the door open with one leg. The wood split by one hinge as he barely paused to maneuver her inside. She could add it to his bill for the repairs. The sheets were still ruffled from her not bothering to make the bed and he walked her over and dropped her unceremoniously onto the mattress. She moved to scramble away from him, and he grabbed her by both ankles and dragged her back towards himself and the edge of the bed. He reached for his belt buckle, hurriedly freeing himself enough to gain access to his dick. She went to shimmy away again, and he dragged her right back. He whipped his shirt over his head and dropped his pants and boxers towards the floor.

Miranda looked up at him, his eyes nearly black and glazed with lust. Well, that was what she was going for, she thought as she swallowed hard.

Ken caught her swallow. He was about ready to burst, but he was no rapist. He needed to be sure. "Miranda, last chance. Is this what you want?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I need to hear you say it, baby."

"Yes."

The last shred of his restraint left with that one word. He reached down and ripped her dress open straight down the front buttons.

Miranda didn't generally get too sentimental about clothes. She was always able to buy more, but she was realizing just how turned on she was at that moment, as she really didn't care. She figured that once she came down from her high, she was going to at least be somewhat upset. The dress was one of the ones she had bought from the amazing boutique she had stumbled upon on her trip to New York to see him. She had worn it for the first time tonight, for him.

Ken didn't give her long to dwell on that thought though. Her underwear shortly followed her dress. He didn't bother with her bra. He grasped his base with one hand, spread her lower lips with the other, and plunged inside her folds. He pulled her flush to him, her legs wrapped around his waist, and proceeded to fuck her, hard. She thrashed her head side to side on the mattress, fighting through the sudden overwhelming sensation. A moment later and something shifted, and her body now started to move with his, riding and following his thrusts, seeking to build them both higher. His pants intensified along with hers, and she locked eyes with him, only to slam them shut seconds later as her core clenched around him, and her climax became imminent. He groaned suddenly as she broke over the edge, fighting to pull back from her, and pulled himself out at the last second to spurt onto her lower stomach. Miranda's realization that this did not gross her out merely gave her further evidence as to her insane level of desire, until she realized that he had just fucked her without a condom on. Shit.

She slid her arms out the sleeves of her destroyed garment and slipped off the foot of the bed to head to the bathroom. "Please, dispose of that somewhere discreetly. I don't want to think about the fact that you just ruined my new favorite New York dress."

She had recovered faster than he had. Ken just stood there, dumfounded, feeling like he was returning from an outer body experience. His eyes finally fell on the dress in front of him. It really was a beautiful shade of blue. He picked it up, lifting it to his face and taking a deep inhale of her scent. It was enough to make him want her all over again. He shook his head, focused his eyes to memorize the brand label. If she had just bought it when he had been out to see him, maybe he could replace it for her. He then dropped the material down his front, wiping away sweat and God knows what else. Waste not, want not. He crumpled it up to take it with him and then looked down, realizing his pants and boxers were around his ankles, boots still on. He really was a state. He rested an ass cheek on the end of the bed to pull his remaining clothes the rest of the way off, and then stood, torn dress in hand to head back down to the entry hall to retrieve his bag.

He tossed the dress in the first garbage container he came across from the workmen, burying it under a large brown wrapper from some form of construction material that was already in there, and turned down the stairs. He was buck naked, but he didn't care. No one else was there and he was comfortable in his own skin. He reached the bottom landing and his eyes fell on the hole from his fist in the wall. It felt like ages ago that it had happened. He didn't even fully remember it; it was like watching a replay of himself in slow motion. His adrenaline fading, his knuckles were starting to throb a bit. He didn't think he had broken anything, but it was likely to bruise, and he should probably get some ice. His gaze fell to the stairs where they had scuffled, the dust clearly disturbed; she could probably use some ice too. He hadn't meant to hurt her, that part had been accident. He looked back up at the wall. His fist had been inches from her face.

Gary had often given him a hard time about his temper, especially since his friend was the one of stereotypical Irish descent. Ken didn't have any family left of consequence after he lost his parents. He knew he had some Irish in him as well. He remembered some social worker at some point informing him that his heritage hadn't done his personality any favors. She had then proceeded to list off, in addition to Irish, German, Italian, Russian, and some Polish thrown in, which she attributed to his extreme level of stubbornness. At the time, he had mostly ignored her, but maybe the woman had a point.

Miranda had stood right up to him though. She hadn't shrunk back from him; she had stood her ground and had stared him right down. He was just about to muse further on her strength of character, when he heard a choked-out sob echo down from the upper hall. Shit. He grabbed his bag and sprinted back up the stairs, taking them two or three at a time.

He ran down the hall, stopping just inside the bedroom door. He dropped his bag again, it hit the door on the way down, which wobbled oddly, the bottom section was definitely broken off from the hinge. He looked up Miranda. She had back on another florally kimono, similar to the one she had put on after their first time together. Her lower lip was trembling and the tears in her eyes were about to spill over. As he watched, the first tear fell, followed quickly by the second, and then the water works were on. She let out another choked sob as he quickly crossed the room toward her.

"No..No.." she whispered, then her voice got louder, "No, don't touch me, Don't touch me!"

Under normal circumstances, Ken would listen to a woman telling him that, but he had always been better at reading other people's emotions than his own, and for some reason God had especially gifted him the ability to understand women. Which was a damn good thing, cause God did he love them. In this case, what she was saying was not what she needed.

He knew she was pissed at him, and she had every right to be, but her body had also finally given in to her fear, her hurt, and her self-doubt. What she needed was him to just hold her, and allow her to get her own emotional release.

He reached her and she made a move to smack his hands away. He ignored her attempt, picking her up as best as he could, and carrying her back to the bed. He sat with her in his lap. She fisted a few blows to his chest with her hands and forearms, but he just held her tighter. She struggled against him, but a moment later she let out a pitiful sob and collapsed against him. He held her and let her cry.

A minute or two passed. Just when he felt like his own heart was about to break, she sniffled loudly and very un-Miranda like and looked up at him through tear-soaked eyelashes. He kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry about the dress," he said. She laughed. "But I'm not sorry about the wall."

"Better than me I suppose."

"Exactly."

She tucked herself back against his chest, not meeting his eyes. "Ken would you ever hit me?"

He wanted to tell her no, but he also knew how bad his rage could get. "I'd never forgive myself if I did," he responded. "But, Miranda," he paused, he was scared to voice it, but he knew it was time, "I'm in deep here, you have to know that."

"I am too you know. Do you…" she swallowed, looking up at him again.

He knew what she was asking him. He swallowed. Man up, Wheatley. "Yes, Miranda, I love you."

She smiled sweetly at him, and a final tear slid from the corner of each of her eyes. Normally, she had an incredible swirl of hazel with just a hint of pale blue to grey. At the moment, the puffy, red was detracting from it, but the color and light was still there. God help him, he really did love her, and not having her anymore would utterly break him.

She reached up to kiss him. "I love you, too."

Ken let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and tucked her back against his chest. She nestled her face into the side of his neck. He was beginning to realize it was one of her favorite positions to be with him.

She spoke, "You know, you're worried about me, but you're in New York. You've got the car, that," she said, gesturing to his crotch, "models, a literal melting pot of any nationality of woman you'd want, and I'm out here in Wyoming, by myself."

"Yeah," he interjected, "surrounded daily by muscled cowboy construction workers, all of whom probably want to take you behind the nearest dumpster." He paused with the thought. "That's it, you can only hire female construction workers."

She looked at him, "How do you know they won't want me too?"

Ken kept going, "And you are not allowed to be alone out here, with any of them." She laughed at his impossible demands. He kissed her. "But, Miranda, seriously, I can't share you."

"Well, that goes for you too," she countered.

"That is not a problem."

"Really? That," she gestured again, "can go a whole week at a time?"

"Well, no, but I can survive the interim taking care of things myself," he confessed. "But I won't have you having any more dates with Mr. Arnoult, or anyone else for that matter, and you are to also tell me if you change time zones. I can't handle hearing about any more escapades of my girlfriend around the company watercooler."

"Who was talking about me anyway?" she asked.

"Don't really know, it was one of Nora's cousins, Daryl, I think his name is. He was trying to defend you, said you and Nora were friends. The other guy, Mark, I think, he's the one who overheard you offering to suck me off on the phone when you were in Maryland."

"Well, I'm glad my cousin and apparently Nora have my back. Mark MacQuesten, he's an ass, always has been, huge gossip, too. It's a good thing that my family has enough money that I don't have to care about my reputation or that would be social suicide around here. Does not paint a girl in the best light and definitely attracts the wrong type of attention."

"You are obviously hanging out with the wrong type of guys," he teased.

"Oh, I know I am. I am definitely hanging out with the wrong type, right now," she said with a light laugh and a knowing look. She stopped, getting serious, "So, Ken, now that you're calm, I want to tell you what I couldn't tell you earlier."

"Why couldn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because I'm about to betray someone's confidence and I need you to assure me that you can keep this between us. You weren't calm enough for me to trust that you could make that decision."

Ken took a deep breath though his nose, knowing she was right. "Ok, I'm listening."

"Do you promise, this stays between us?" she asked, looking for more conformation.

"Yes." She looked at him. "Miranda, I promise."

"Ok, Charlie's gay."

"What? Why couldn't you just tell me that earlier?"

"Ken, really!?" she stated with a heavy eye roll. "Would you have believed me or even listened?"

"Ok, Ok," he agreed, knowing she was right.

She continued, "So he's known since we were younger. We've been helping each other out for years. He doesn't feel like he can tell his family, so we've been each other's plus ones as needed for a few years now. It helps him avoid answering questions and keeps me from having to tell too many assholes to get lost."

"Well, he's going to have to tell his family eventually," Ken pointed out.

"That's his decision."

"Ok, yes, but he's going to have to find a new stand in. Fake or not, I don't want you doing that anymore."

"Ok."

"Ok?" he asked, surprised by her quick agreement.

"Yeah, Ok," she confirmed.

"Good. But what about this whole, you're betrothed thing?" he questioned further.

Miranda giggled. "Oh, trust me, there are some members of my family that have expectations to marry certain people, I'm not one of them. My parents learned from an early age that they couldn't get me to do a damn thing that I didn't want to do. It's kind of in my blood. Do they want to at least approve of the guy I pick? Yeah. So, if you want that to be you, you'd better shape up, mister," she teased, but there was at least some serious warning to her statement. "You do realize that with Charlie out of the picture, my main deterrent to other men wanting a piece is gone?"

"Let them come. I'll fight them all off. You're mine," he said possessively, pulling her close and planting a kiss to the top of her head.

"Ok, down boy."

Miranda was a bit surprised at herself for telling Ken about Charlie. Vey few people knew. She hadn't told anyone, ever, before. The only rationale she could think of was that despite his over the top behavior the past hour or so, she must really trust him.

"I'll be in Maryland the next two weekends," she stated. "Come see me."

"I've got another detail this weekend, but then I have Monday off."

"I'll come to you then. I can be there for Sunday and Monday night and then head back to Wyoming Tuesday morning."

"Ok, then I can drive down to you in Maryland the following week. Did you clean up while I was downstairs?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded as she answered him.

"Ok, let's get you into bed, then." He reached for the tie to her robe.

"No," she said, but she said it calmly. "I want to leave it on for now. I'm still feeling a little exposed."

"Ok," he consented. "But no hiding from me for too long, ok?"

"Ok," she agreed.

He helped her slide under the covers and made a silly show of tucking the blankets around her. "I'm going to go brush my teeth and take a quick shower, then I'll be back. Ok?"

"Ok."

"Don't go anywhere."

He turned to get his bag from where he had left it by the door. As he went to go back past her to the bathroom, she called for him, "Ken?" He stopped.

She put her hands out to reach towards him. He took the couple steps to approach her, resting the duffle on the edge of the bed. He bent down to place his lips to hers and was pleased when she returned his advances. "I love you," she said again.

"I love you, too. Rest. I'll be back in a few minutes. Everything's ok."

In the morning, they were both acting a bit sheepish towards each other, which was understandable. It was a beautiful bright sunny day and Miranda decided it would be best for both of them if they got out of the bedroom. "Let me take you out to see the mountains like I promised. The property has some gorgeous views. We can take the ATV."

"Alright, but I get to drive. I need your arms wrapped around me, so I don't go insane again," he commented, only partially joking.

"Alright, I need to call my dad, and we need to grab one of the house rifles and a first aid kit."

"Um, why?"

"Ken, this is Wyoming. You think New York is dangerous? There are literally hundreds of miles of wilderness and grizzlies. The wildlife is all protected and with good reason, but its better to be safe than sorry."

"You know how to shoot?" he asked.

"I've been taught. I can in a pinch."

"Remind me to work on teaching you so you can do it in more than a pinch. It's a useful skill to have."

"My grandfather thought the same. I do have to call my dad before we go, too."

"Wasn't he just here?"

"Uh-huh. Came out to check on progress. He came back from Maryland with me Thursday and left again just before you arrived. I have to let him know that we're going out onto the trails, it's a safety thing," she explained.

"What's he going to do if something happens, from all the way in Maryland?" he asked.

"He can at least call in the cavalry. He made me promise." She reached to pick up the phone and dialed.

A moment later, Ken could just about make out her father's booming voice. "Hey, daughter," McCallister Senior greeted.

"Morning Dad, sorry to bother you, but wanted to let you know that I'm heading out to the back forty." It was more like the back two hundred and forty, but it was the running family joke.

"Who's we? I assume you wouldn't be stupid enough to be doing that alone, darling." Her dad didn't miss a trick.

"Ken, Gary's friend, remember?"

"Ahh, so he's still around, is he?" He was playing dumb. He was very aware that his daughter was still very much involved with one Mr. Wheatley. He had run a full background check on the man. On paper, he was far from the sort of man he wanted anywhere near his daughter. But Miranda had also had such a lightness to her voice and a sparkle in her eye that he hadn't done a darn thing to dissuade the relationship. Not that anything he did would sway her anyway. He had long known that his daughter would have given her great grandmother Meredith a run for her money.

Miranda didn't give him much more. "So, we'll probably take a picnic with us and be back early afternoon."

"Don't forget to call me on your return. I hate to bother the good sheriff's department for no reason."

"Yes, dad."

"Oh, and Miranda?"

"Ya?"

"Bring that man with you next weekend when you come to the shore. It's high time your mother and I meet him in person."

"Yes, dad."