So, Patrick Jane was a boot fetishist, but now was not the time to act on this. His Teresa, or rather "Tessa", was in the process of making an arrest. He looked down at her foot, sensibly clad, planted on the perp.
Patrick jolted back to reality. It was true, however. Patrick loved the sight of a woman in boots. His favorite? Short little black high-heeled boots. His fantasy: a woman in boots, and well, nothing else. Nothing else at all. Patrick loved it when Teresa slowly crossed her legs after being seated. In general, he loved the way that a woman's legs looked in high-heeled boots.
Patrick felt safe with Teresa. And he remembered her in the gallery cloakroom. And up against the door of the FBI conference room. And late at night behind the Airstream. Maybe now it was time to see how willing Teresa was going to be...
"Patrick?"
Teresa sounded confused, even a tad concerned.
Teresa had gone to the Airstream after debriefing with Abbott, because she had a slight headache, and it was parked at work. She told him not to worry; by the time he got there, she'd be all over the headache.
Patrick entered his vehicular residence, and noticed that the shades were drawn. Made sense, if her head ached. He also saw that she was kneeling next to the bed.
Oh oh.
"Teresa? Are you OK?"
Patrick knew that her eyes would be scanning the room for him in the dimness. His eyes had already adjusted, and he saw that she was still in the pale blue blouse and dark suit from earlier.
"Patrick?" she asked again, louder and more fearful.
Oh oh. She had pulled a long box out from the under-bed storage area.
"C'mere," he growled, hoping to distract her.
"Patrick, what's this?"
He smiled at her, hoping to come across as nonchalant, normal, matter-of-fact. But by the way she was looking at him, his smile might as well have been feral, he thought. He moved closer to her, and as he did, he could feel the uncertainty radiating off her body.
"Uh, what's what?"
"These. Boots."
"Umm..."
"Fancy boots! What the...?" she suddenly questioned, holding up the especially beautiful, especially spiky pair.
Inexplicably, Patrick felt proud of himself. He'd researched those boots quite carefully.
"Patrick..." The uncertainty had returned to her voice.
For her part, Teresa was perplexed as she handled the...merchandise...in front of her. She turned boot over boot over in her hands, and as she examined each exquisite item, she mulled her discovery over in her mind. This discovery was unexpected. Was he buying her presents and stashing them, waiting for the proper time to gift her?
She turned, to find him standing next to her.
For all the world, he looked like a man caught cheating. Yet at the same time, his relief was plain to see.
"Patrick?"
"C'mere," he growled again, motioning with his chin and, sitting down on the bed, patting the space beside him.
Teresa reached her hand up and he assisted her into a standing position. She took her place next to him.
Patrick took a deep breath. "Lisbon, this is so hard."
Teresa thought she would begin to hyperventilate. "Are you OK? Is there someone else?"
"What are you talking about, Teresa? Are you crazy? I would never cheat on you," he reassured her.
"But... these boots..."
Patrick patted Teresa's hand. His thoughts were all over the place. He had to tell her. But how?
"I..."
"Oh Jane. I've ruined things. Ruined your surprise. I'm such an idiot. I..."
"Teresa. It's not that. It's...it's just that I like...I like boots."
"You like me wearing boots?" Ok, she got it, but then added, remorsefully, "But now I've ruined your surprise."
The look on Teresa's face was so heartrendingly that of a woman in love, that Patrick began to reconsider telling her about the boots. No one had ever looked at him that way in, well, Teresa knew how long. Maybe she'd just put them on and he'd never have to tell her, and then he'd just give her the boots as a gift, except...he'd have to explain why he wanted to keep them in the Airstream.
Near the bed.
Time to take the plunge.
"I like boots."
"You like boots." She parroted his statement, not as a question, but delivered it in the same flat, even tone he'd used.
"No. Teresa, I really like boots." Patrick tried to put a little more emotion into his statement. "Really..." he gulped, "like them."
After a beat, he added, "On women. I mean, on...on...you..."
He could actually see the pieces fall into place in her beautiful mind.
Click. Click. Click. The pieces fell into place.
"You like boots...like...like...during..."
"Yes."
That admission had a different effect than he'd expected.
Teresa Lisbon burst out laughing. Patrick watched in misery as her body shook, her hand slapped her knee, and a pink flush slowly rose across her throat, up her neck, then across her cheeks.
"Oh my..." She continued laughing, then suddenly stopped, seeing the expression on his face, her eyes fixing on his.
"Alrighty then," she said, attempting normalcy after she'd calmed down, "I'm going bed."
That was it?
"Still have a headache," she shrugged, apologetically. "The drinking last night...That's why I was down there..." She indicated the floor. "Dropped my Tylenol."
Oh. OK.
"Here, let me help you." Patrick got up, and brought back another Tylenol for her.
As Patrick approached her, Teresa arose as well, and he allowed her to pass him, her lithe body brushing against his. Patrick, for a second, allowed himself to contemplate the sound of a sharp stiletto heel clicking on the hardwood floor in their future home, then quickly focused on Teresa.
"Here." He handed her the pain reliever.
They settled into bed; both at first tried reading, then gave up. Teresa looked up at him and said, "I'm sorry I laughed."
And then she began to giggle.
"No really, I am. So...boots...?"
"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. You feeling better?" Patrick indicated her head.
"Oh yeah. Tylenol, works for me every time."
"Uh...did I upset you?"
Patrick waited for her answer.
"Seriously? No. Just surprised. This is a side of you I never knew...I mean... How long?"
"Huh?"
"How long have you had this...attraction?"
"Not long..."
"Liar."
Patrick nodded his head. "A long time."
"God, Grace would have a field day with this!"
Patrick looked mortified, and Teresa quickly jumped in. "Oh no, I'd never tell her, but you just know she'd be looking up the whole psychology of it on the web..."
Teresa stopped when she noticed the stricken look on his face.
"Not that there's anything wrong with..." she deadpanned. Teresa turned to him. "Seriously, Hon. What do I do? Wear these?"
Patrick still looked uncomfortable.
"Seriously, Jane. I love boots. I love you. Me. You. Boots?"
Patrick still looked uncomfortable.
"So, do I just wear them?" she asked.
"Yeah," Patrick admitted.
"And what else do I wear?" she asked.
Silence from Patrick, but he was rewarded with a quirked eyebrow and smirk from Teresa.
Patrick had never made love to a woman just wearing boots before. And in his fantasies, well, Teresa was just wearing them. He hadn't thought of the getting there...
"Not now," he mumbled. "Doesn't feel right."