THE PRE-EMPTIVE STRIKE

They'd had a fight right before he got on the plane.

It was probably the worst fight they'd ever had. The first one since they'd lived under the same roof, about the dumbest, most mundane thing: he'd forgotten to pay the cable bill.

This wasn't like the time he'd written a list of her quirks, which she knew he still felt terrible about. This was different. This was a simple mistake that had spiraled out of control. Lee refused to give, and so did she, and by the time they'd reached the airport the fight filled the car. Amanda could almost see it, like some kind of black ooze that covered every surface. When he pulled into the parking spot and handed her his keys he'd said, "This is where I get off. No need for you to come inside."

But she'd been too consumed by her own fury to let it go. "I'm already paying for thirty minutes," she'd almost growled at him, shoving open the door. "I'm coming in like always."

"Amanda, don't." He'd popped the trunk and yanked his suitcase free, catching his briefcase in the process and popping the latch, unlocked for some reason, probably because he'd been in a rush to get ready. He'd sworn as everything scattered on the concrete floor of the garage — case notes, photographs, other folders full of god-knew-what — and she'd been so horrified someone would see it she'd called a cease-fire for a moment to help him scoop it up.

He'd slammed the briefcase shut, checked the lock, and stood, huffing out a breath as he straightened. "Thanks," he said, abruptly, then leaned in to give her a perfunctory kiss. "See you on Friday."

Now it was Friday and Amanda Stetson was waiting at the arrivals gate, watching for the twelve-thirty from Seattle even though she knew he'd taken probably three connecting flights from somewhere else. He didn't travel much anymore, certainly not on zero-contact assignments, but this one was different — he was tying up the loose ends of an old case, reviving an old cover. So they'd left things as they'd been in the parking garage, with a kiss goodbye and a subdued "Stay safe" as he walked toward Departures.

She knew why they'd fought so violently. They'd been together around the clock, working a set of cases that seemed impossible to crack and dealing with teen drama at home. The washing machine had quit, someone keyed Lee's car while he and the boys were at a basketball game, and they'd had to cancel a weekend away — alone — because of this last-minute mission. So they'd both been on edge.

She craned her neck to see if she could spot him in the crowd as passengers streamed through the gate. She thought, as she always did, about the time she'd picked him up with two goons on his tail, when he'd driven her car into a bus shelter.

She saw him then, near the back of the crowd, his suit jacket slung over his arm, his tie loose. He looked as tired as she felt, and she wondered what he'd think when he saw her, if she'd brought the fight with her. He didn't look as if he were expecting anyone to meet him, which made her feel a little twinge of sadness for him. Did he think she wouldn't come, just because they'd had a ridiculous argument?

And then his gaze bumped up against hers, and his shoulders seemed to sag, and she couldn't help smiling at him. Amanda wanted to run across the concourse to meet him but the crowd was too heavy, so she stood rooted to the spot, waiting, bouncing on her toes.

"Hey," he said, as he drew closer, and she didn't wait. She closed the space between them and slid her arms around him. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Am I?" She laughed, tipping her head back to look at him, delighted when he gave her a long kiss. "So are you."

"I thought I'd be cabbing it home and sleeping on the couch," he said.

Amanda gave him a shove. "Of course not. I've felt terrible all week."

"Yeah, me too. I wanted to call you and…" He sighed and gave her a squeeze, his briefcase bumping against her hip. She reached to take it from him but he held fast. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk."

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have gotten so angry."

"Yeah, well, I found the bill in my briefcase when I got to the hotel," he said, sheepishly. "All stamped and ready to go."

"Really?" She laughed. "Oh well. It happens."

"I had to mail it before it blew my cover." He let her go, then, and they turned toward the baggage carousel, hands linked. A few minutes later they'd scooped up his bags and were heading to the car.

"Did you eat?" Amanda asked, as he put his bags in the back of the wagon. "I missed lunch so I thought maybe we could stop on the way back to work."

He grinned at her. "You read my mind."

"Beef dip? Pecan pie?" She tugged the door open and smiled at him as she slid into the driver's seat.

"You did it again," he said, fastening his seat belt and leaning over for a kiss.

"We weren't really fighting about the bill," Amanda said, as she stirred sugar into her coffee.

"No, we weren't," he agreed, stirring cream into his.

The Pie Plate was humming with lunchtime patrons, the pendant lights over the booths casting a golden glow that pushed back the damp gray afternoon outside. Amanda breathed in the smell of french fries and pastries, and felt the knot between her shoulder blades begin to unfurl. Lee was back where he should be, safe and sound, and they had hot sandwiches and dessert coming and nothing to do but talk to each other.

"I think we were both mad about everything that's been going on, and having to cancel our trip because of work was the last straw."

He nodded, thoughtful. "Yeah, I think you're right."

"I think we're nicer to each other when we have time to just…" She hesitated. "Be alone." She didn't want to come out and say it, not in the diner with a million people around. And Brenda, who had bat ears befitting the undercover operative she really was.

He laughed, his eyes twinkling. "Yeah, I guess we probably are."

Amanda was sure Brenda could hear them, because she paused at their table a moment later, plates balanced in her hands.

"We've got a new guy in back and he's fast," she said, sliding the plates onto the table in front of them. "And yes, the fries are different. Sorry." She gestured at the generous pile of potatoes on Lee's plate, which were missing their usual crinkle. Amanda hoped these ones tasted as good as usual. She didn't eat fries often but Pie Plate fries were her favorite.

"I'm so hungry I don't care," Lee admitted. "All my flights were short enough I only got peanuts."

"Well, we're here to fix that," Brenda said, laughing, and then she moved on to the next table, tugging her order pad out of her apron pocket as she went.

Lee picked up his cutlery and unrolled it from the paper napkin, casting a surreptitious glance over his shoulder before he spoke. "Anyway, you were saying how we aren't as nice to each other when we spend all our time clothed and in the presence of other people."

She dipped a fry in mayonnaise, her face suddenly hot. "Well, it's true, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess it is." He quirked a brow at her and lowered a corner of his sandwich into the little pot of au jus on the side of his plate. "What do you plan to do about it?"

"I think we should start making dates," she told him, popping the french fry into her mouth. It was a little too hot, and she sucked in a deep breath as it burned her mouth.

"That's a good idea, but between work and extracurriculars and whatever else we can barely fit in an hour for dinner."

"We haven't been trying very hard, have we?"

He looked uncomfortable, then. "No," he said after a minute. "I guess we haven't."

"I'm not saying you haven't. I mean we've been living together under the same roof for eight months and we haven't had a minute to think except for that first week."

"I didn't do a lot of thinking that first week," he admitted, smirking a little. "Did you?"

"You know what I mean."

He nodded. "Yeah, I do. It's been pretty crazy."

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling miserable suddenly. "This whole thing hasn't been even remotely what I thought it would be like."

"What do you mean?"

"Even last February, when we…" She shook her head. "We had, what, three days? And then — And then when we finally came back here it wasn't like we were even together half the time. I was out of it and you were back at work and there was always so much to do."

"I knew that going in," he said.

"Yeah, but knowing it and living it aren't the same, are they?"

He chuckled. "No, good point. They aren't the same at all." The smile almost fell off his face, then, and his forehead wrinkled as he looked at her. "Are you unhappy?"

Amanda reached out to lay her hand over his, horrified. "No! No. That's not what I mean. I mean look…" She drew in a deep breath. "I promised myself if I ever got married again that things would be different. That we'd be open and, and… not let the day-to-day take over every single thing. And it's already happening and I guess I just want to make sure it doesn't. Because I think that's why we had that fight. And I know fights happen. Joe and I had plenty. But I didn't like that one, that wasn't like us at all."

"So this is like a… pre-emptive strike."

"Yes. That's exactly what it is." She paused. "What do you think? Is it a dumb idea?"

"Are you asking me if I think it's a dumb idea if we spend more time together? Alone? Not working?"

She shrugged. Her cheeks were prickling with heat now. "Is it weird?"

"It's, uh…" He looked thoughtful suddenly. "Practical."

"I'd love to be spontaneous but we don't really have that many opportunities and I just… I really don't want the important stuff to get lost in the shuffle. That's all."

He grinned, then. "You gonna put it on the kitchen calendar?"

Amanda laughed. "Oh gosh, the boys would die of embarrassment."

"How about I rebook the trip?" he suggested. "Your mother said she'd take them for the weekend."

"Yes. She's coming over tomorrow, let's ask her about the date."

He nodded, relaxing in the seat suddenly. She saw his expression change, his eyelids lower, the corner of his mouth lift. He looked as if he were putting on a cover, leaning forward in a way that was him but not him. "So, uh, got any plans for Saturday night? I just got into town and I'm wondering what's fun around here."

"Oh. Well." Amanda reached out a finger to touch the back of his hand. "I'd invite you to dinner, but I have a hot date."

"You do, huh?"

"Yeah. With my husband. He, um, he's been away all week, too."

"Really? Where are you taking him?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Spencer's, maybe?"

"Gosh, no. We just had to redo the paint job on the car. We don't have room in the budget for that. I was thinking about a moonlight drive."

"A moonlight drive?"

"No?"

He grinned. "That sounds perfect. But what about a picnic, too? He'd even put the whole thing together."

"You think so?"

"Yup. You wouldn't have to lift a finger."

"Interesting. I think I'd like that." He turned his hand over and meshed his fingers with hers, and she thought about how it was always the simplest, smallest things she missed when he was away. Joking around and holding hands across the table. Sipping coffee together in the office before work. Doing the dishes together at night.

"Well, I hear he kind of owes you. I mean, you keep him on the straight and narrow."

She tried to draw her hand away, pretending to be offended, but he held fast. "Owes me?"

"Uh, well, you know. He's not good at saying how much he appreciates it. He forgets. He's kind of a moron about it, actually."

"I can see that." She saw his eyes twinkle. "But he should know he doesn't have to apologize. I knew what I was getting into."

"You did, huh? And you went for it anyway?"

She laughed and squeezed his hand, then drew hers away to pick up another french fry. "Of course. I'd put in too much effort by then to start over."

Now it was his turn to pretend to look offended. "Effort?"

"It's been worth it," she said. "Every minute."