Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Shoot the Moon Productions and Warner Brothers, Inc., definitely not me.
NO RUSH
Lee Stetson hadn't expected the stake-out to end so early, but he also hadn't expected the torrential downpour to start when it did — as they stood hidden in the shrubs at the edge of the park, snapping the pictures they needed with a telephoto lens. Amanda King shuddered as the first drops fell, drawing her hood up over her head, but Lee was stuck with a terrible ball cap and jacket that was part of his cover and far from waterproof (he could've sworn the forecast that afternoon had said "partly cloudy"), and it wasn't long before he was soaked through and freezing.
They hurried back to her car, and she dug out the towel she always kept tucked in the trunk. Of course she had a towel, he thought, she had two boys who probably used four of them a week. He stashed the camera in the bag in the back, then slid into the passenger seat and slipped off his jacket, mopping at his face and hair.
"Wow, it's really coming down," Amanda said, fiddling with the heat.
"Yeah, our timing was almost good for a change," he said, laughing a little. "I thought we'd be out there until after dark, though, so that's something."
"What now?"
"Looks like we get the evening off. We can head over to the Agency and get the 'Vette if you want."
"No rush," she said, and Lee felt a jolt of pleasure.
"Want to stop at the Pie Plate for some dinner? My treat."
"What's the Pie Plate?"
He grinned. "I'll show you. You'll like it."
A few minutes later she pulled into the parking lot, the wipers on the car trying desperately to keep up with the rain. Amanda peered through the rivulets of water at the little diner.
"That doesn't look like your usual type of place," she said.
"I have diverse tastes," he protested. "And this place has the best pie in three states. I mean, present company's excluded, of course."
"Obviously." She smoothed her hair, which had started to curl in the damp. "How am I doing in the drowned rat department?"
"Not even close," he said, and meant it. This was his favorite Amanda — the jeans-and-sneakered, utility-jacketed, flannel-shirted Amanda who went camping and knew how to read a map and almost broke her leg teaching her kids a hook slide. She had stolen his breath in more than one evening gown and could disappear in an office full of blazered career women, but when he pictured her in his head, this was who he thought of. He wondered if it was because this was how she seemed happiest.
The diner was about half-full, people clustered together in red vinyl booths — like the one Lee and Amanda settled in — or around the blond wood tables in the middle of the room. The air was warm and full of a tantalizing mix of sweet and savory — roast beef and apple pie spice, deep-fried potatoes and chocolate syrup. Lee was suddenly ravenous. He watched Amanda poring over the menu and had the sense she felt the same.
Finally she shut her menu with a snap and rested her elbows on the table. "You're starving, aren't you?" she said.
"What gave me away?"
"You've been eyeballing that guy's beef dip since we came in here." She tipped her head in the direction of the table beside them, and Lee felt laughter rolling around in his chest.
"I guess I have," he admitted, closing his menu and setting it on top of hers. "I missed lunch."
She gave him a disapproving look and he shrugged. "You're gonna run yourself ragged one of these days," she said.
"Occupational hazard." He watched as the waitress filled his coffee cup, suddenly craving something warm to counterbalance the dampness of his clothing. "What are the boys up to this evening that you don't have to rush back?" he asked when they were alone again.
"Oh." She stirred her coffee. "They have the day off school tomorrow so they're going to Joe's for a long weekend."
"What about your mother?"
"I'm giving her a little peace and quiet."
"Uh oh."
"It's nothing bad. They boys have just been keeping us pretty busy lately and I thought she'd like a little time to herself. In fact, maybe I'll bring her a piece of pie."
"So what are you going to do with your free weekend?" he ventured, pouring cream into his coffee.
"Oh." She shrugged. "Mother and I are going to a farmer's market on Sunday afternoon. But I'm sure she'll have a date or two."
Lee raised a brow. "She's really hit it off with that guy, huh?"
"Yeah, it seems that way." Amanda hunched her shoulders, and he got the sense she was uncomfortable with the idea for some reason. Something he, who had grown up motherless, couldn't really relate to.
"What about you?"
"Joe asked me if I wanted to go to the hockey game with him and the boys, but…" She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
He felt tension creep up his spine and tried to shake it off. "No?"
"No." She sipped her coffee. "He needs to spend time with the boys on his own."
"Does he agree?"
Amanda pursed her lips, then gave a nervous laugh. "Not always, I guess. And I don't know if they do, either."
"Well, I guess they barely know each other," he said, and knew instantly he shouldn't have. Amanda's hand tightened around her coffee mug and her spine straightened. "Sorry, sorry. But I'd bet you a piece of pie he wants you back."
"Let's not talk about it," she said.
Silence hung between them for a moment, a strange awkwardness that reared its head every time the subject of Joe came up. The way she dodged it made him more anxious than if she'd just talk about it, he realized, though he wasn't sure why he, the master of avoiding emotionally complicated subjects, expected her to want to pore over her relationship with her ex with him.
Lee fiddled with his cutlery.
"What about you?" Amanda asked.
"What?"
"Your weekend. I thought you were going skiing."
'Ah, no. That's off."
"But you booked it off months ago. It's still on your calendar in big red letters. Don't you go every year?"
"I used to, yeah. But not this year. The, uh, conditions weren't great."
He wasn't going to tell her what had really happened — that he'd called his date, a gorgeous blonde named Suzanne, and told her their annual weekend at her cabin was a no-go this year. He'd done it weeks ago, right before the holidays, explaining how things were different now and he didn't feel right about it. She had laughed at him and teased him a little about there being a special someone, and he hadn't argued with her about it even though officially that someone — the person sitting across the table from him right then — had no idea.
"Really?" Amanda prodded. "I heard they got two feet of snow last week." She was laughing at him, now, her dark eyes twinkling. "Not those conditions, huh?"
Lee couldn't help chuckling, grateful for the waitress who appeared as if by magic, albeit late, beside their table. Her presence seemed to dissipate the tension a little, put them back on even ground.
"Well if you aren't going skiing then what are you going to do?" Amanda asked as they dug into their food.
"I don't know. Work, probably. I've got a backlog of paperwork a foot high."
"No, you don't," she said, crumbling saltines into her soup. "I took care of it for you yesterday, when you and Billy were out at those security meetings."
He frowned. "You did?" He hadn't even been in the Q Bureau that day — he'd spent the day in the bowels of the Agency, in a series of small conference rooms, until he and Amanda had packed up and left for their stakeout.
"Yep. Francine came up to the Q with a bee in her bonnet about some case file, so I dug it out for her and then I realized the stack wasn't as bad as it looked so I finished them up."
He shook his head, laughing a little. "Of course you did."
"Was that okay?" She looked worried, suddenly, her spoon hovering over the bowl of chowder.
"Amanda, that was more than okay. That was really —" He paused, unsure where to go next. "Thanks for doing that."
She smiled, a soft smile that made her face light up and his heart suddenly thump a little louder in his ears. "Well, that's what partners do, right? It was no big deal, anyway. Saved me from spending the morning transcribing." She sipped her soup, swallowed, then set the spoon down. "So now what are you going to do?"
"You've got me. I have no idea." He poked at his sandwich for a minute, dipping it in the little pot of au jus, then setting it down without taking a bite. "You doing anything tomorrow night?"
Amanda shook her head.
"Want to have dinner at that new Italian place near you?"
She blinked. "In Arlington?"
"Yeah." They'd had dinner together a few times before, but not for a while. Not since Joe had come back, he realized now. And he'd made excuses to himself about the holidays and everything being so hectic but if he was honest he'd avoided mentioning it in case she said no. "Maybe it's a bad idea."
"No!" She reached out a hand, suddenly. "I didn't mean that. I was just… surprised… that you'd want to go to a hole in the wall in the suburbs. Or that you'd even know it existed."
"I saw a review in the paper the other week," he said. 'I mean it's not fancy or anything, but they said the food's authentic."
She laughed, and he knew she was laughing at his attempt to cover. He wondered why he could never just come out with the real reason. "Well," she said, "in that case."
"But if you have something else going on…"
"I already said I didn't."
"You're not washing your hair, or cleaning your oven?"
"My oven is self-cleaning." She buttered the biscuit sitting on the side of her plate. "I'd like to have dinner. We haven't in a while. I mean, except now."
He chuckled. "No, we haven't." He settled against the back of the booth. His shirt had finally dried enough that he was no longer chilly, though he had a feeling he'd be soaked again the second they left the diner. He looked out at the parking lot and the rain, still running in rivulets down the window. Maybe they could stay a while, until the weather cleared. They weren't in a rush. There was pie, if they wanted it. She had a bowl of hot soup and looked happy sitting across from him, maybe as happy as he was to have her there.
"I've missed it," Amanda said suddenly, and he turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised in question. "The dinners." Her cheeks flushed pink.
He grinned. "Me too." He resisted his usual impulse to add an excuse or an explanation. Amanda probably knew, anyway. She always knew, even if she didn't let on right away. She'd known from the moment he'd met her, and it had driven him crazy. He wasn't sure when that had stopped, and when he'd started to appreciate it, but it had and he did and here he was now, filled with anticipation at the thought of spending the next evening with her. He wondered if she knew that, too.
"You're quiet," she said after a minute, reaching across the table to steal a fry from his plate.
"Hey." He swatted half-heartedly at her hand, but he was grinning again.
"You snooze, you lose, Stetson," she said, laughing. "You know that." She reached over and took another. "They're getting cold. I thought you were hungry." She turned her attention back to her soup. "You were thinking about the case."
"Nope."
"No?"
He shook his head, deciding to come clean. "I was thinking," he said, leaning in, his voice low, "about how nice it is to work with a partner."
He watched with satisfaction as her smile widened and she ducked her head. "You were, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Well that's awfully nice." Amanda pushed her plate to one side, her soup finished. "But you're still buying. And I'm definitely getting a piece of pie."
