A/N Happy 90th Birthday, Elmore. You are missed.
"So you want me to call Leslie and feel her out on how Art is doing?" Winona glances at her cards. "Pass."
Raylan tips his bottle and finishes the last of his beer. "Leslie doesn't know Tim talked to Rachel, so we gotta be careful. Just say I toldja they were thinkin' about a visit and you wanted to talk to her about it."
"I can do that," she says. "Poor Leslie."
"Yeah. Art's pretty young for this. It could be a long haul."
"If that's what it is," Tim says. "I did some research. There are other things it might be – mini-strokes, a blood clot, even a brain tumor."
"And that's a better scenario?" Raylan lays his cards down. "I'm busted."
Tim discards and Winona snatches it up.
"Blackjack," She says with a smile, laying her cards on the table. "Read 'em and weep, gentlemen." She picks up her beer and drains it.
"Shit," Tim says. "That's like, the fifth hand in a row. You didn't tell me she was a card shark."
"My dad loved to play '21'. We played on vacation and bet nickels. He'd take our allowance money, too...so Gayle and I got pretty good at it."
"It's mostly luck," Raylan grumbles, a little defensive.
"Don't be a sore loser, Cowboy." Winona bumps him with her hip as she rises from the table. "I'm getting another beer, anyone else want one?"
"I'm tapped out." Tim raises his arms over his head and gives an exaggerated yawn. "It was a long drive. I think I'll take a shower and get some shut-eye."
"You gonna head out to see that buddy of yours tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow or the next day, yeah. How far is it over to Tarpon Springs?"
Raylan shrugs. "Three, four hours." Winona holds up a beer and he nods, taking it from her and twisting off the cap. He takes a swig. "Your buddy Greek by any chance?"
"Nick Kalivas. How the hell did you know that?"
"Tarpon Springs has the highest population of Greeks in the United States. Some of 'em came over here to be sponge divers, brought their families. They dove with no equipment. Back in the 1920's it used to be quite the tourist attraction to watch them from the Sponge Docks. People would set up picnics and everything."
Tim looks at Winona over Raylan's shoulder. "How does he know all this shit?"
She shrugs and Raylan flashes a grin. "I read."
"Speaking of which..." Tim snags the strap of his duffel and pulls it up onto the table. Undoing the zipper, he reaches inside and tosses a book at Raylan, who catches it in one hand.
"Nice reflexes."
"Maximum Bob", Raylan says, squinting at the title. "Any good?"
"You'll like it. This Leonard is a good writer. Quick read and funny as hell. The judge reminds me of Reardon."
"Thanks."
"Pass it on when you're done," Tim says, shouldering his bag and yawning again, for real. "I'm hitting the sack, unless you two need a chaperone." He raises an eyebrow.
"I think we'll be fine," Winona says. She turns back to the sink, rinsing off a plate and bending to put it in the dishwasher. Raylan eyes the curve of her hip in her tight jeans and Tim snickers.
"Whatever you say. You change your mind, just holler." He makes his way down the hall to the guest room and Raylan pushes up from the table, palming the deck of playing cards and slipping them back into the box.
"Would you go check on Willa while I finish up these dishes?" Winona pulls her hair back with one hand, twisting it into a loose bun and securing it with a pencil from the jar on the counter. "I told her that puppy was not sleeping in her bed. Make sure he's in the crate. I'm not planning on cleaning up after him any more tonight."
"Relax," he says. "That's why we got the crate. I'm gonna be off a few more days. We'll get Ranger house-trained in no time."
"I certainly hope so." She watches as Raylan walks down the hall and carefully opens the door to Willa's room, sticking his head in. After a moment, he beckons her with a finger.
"Come're. You gotta see this."
"That dog better not be in her bed." She tosses down the dishtowel and joins Raylan, peering into her daughter's bedroom. As her eyes adjust to the darkness she sees that the bed is empty. Willa's sheets are thrown back and the pillow is missing.
"Look," Raylan says, pointing.
Willa is curled up on the floor beside the crate on her pillow, her fingers stuck through the bars. Inside, the puppy is pressed as close to her as he can get. Both are sound asleep.
"Just like her daddy," Winona says, after a moment.
He cocks his head. "Whaddya mean?" He whispers.
She chuckles quietly. "She found a way to do what she wanted without technically breaking the rules."
He slips an arm around her waist. "She's somethin', isn't she?"
"She is." She nods and turns her face up to his, watching him watch their daughter. "At least I'll have the bed to myself."
"Ya don't have to sleep in here ya, know." His fingers slide along her ribcage sending tingles up and down her spine.
"I think I should, don't you?"
He lowers his head, nipping gently at her earlobe. "Should is overrated," he murmurs, his breath soft on her neck. He hasn't forgotten how to get to her. Just like that, she's wet.
"Whoa, Cowboy." Her voice is husky as she reluctantly pulls away.
"Dammit, Winona." He puts on the hurt little boy face. "You just stringin' me along?"
"No!" She says it too loud and Willa stirs, turning over in her sleep. One hand flat to his chest, she pushes him out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind her. She crosses her arms over her chest. "You know that's not it."
"Hard to tell sometimes." Hands on his hips he stares at his feet.
"I want this to work as much as you do." She takes a deep breath. "I think we should go on a date."
"A date? Seriously?" He huffs. "You wanna date me? It ain't like we gotta get to know each other."
"You don't know everything about me," she says, pushing past him. "And I sure as hell don't know everything about you." He follows her through the living room and back to the kitchen.
"So we do what? Dinner and a movie?"
"I was thinking dinner and conversation, Raylan, you know, when two people talk to each other?" She opens the dishwasher and deposits a soap pod in the dispenser, shuts the door and pushes the button. "
I've been wanting to try that new Spanish restaurant, Majorca? Rebecca at work says they have the best sangria and the stuffed filet of sole is to die for."
"Is that the one on South Beach? I've driven by. It's pretty fancy."
"Good, I can get a new dress and you can wear something other than jeans."
"Great." He grimaces.
"I could ask Mama to watch Willa." She casts a sideways glance his way. He's interested now.
"Overnight?"
"Maybe." A smile curves the corners of her mouth.
He leans in and kisses her, long and slow, his tongue teasing her lips apart. "Maybe?"
"Yes, Raylan, maybe." She kisses him again, quickly. "We'll see, okay."
"Okay, but just so ya know, it's gettin' a little hard with ya livin' here."
"Just a little hard?" She grins at him.
"Funny. You're funny." Pulling her to him he kisses her again, this one longer, deeper. When they break for air he leans against the counter and picks up her unfinished beer.
"Majorca, huh?" He says, grinning. "They have steaks? I think I'm gonna need some protein."