Daryl had music blaring when Carol got home from work Monday afternoon. She found him in the living room. He'd pushed the furniture aside, put a huge tarp on the floor and was staring intently at a large canvas. There was paint splatter all over the coveralls he was wearing and Carol could see the tarp had a fair share of paint on it as well.

She knew he painted, but she'd never actually seen him at work. Daryl had told her a couple years ago that his agent made him talk to a psychologist because the pressure of becoming so famous and recognized was really getting to him. The psychologist suggest that he find an outlet of some sort to relieve the stress. Daryl refused to try yoga and his attempt at journaling lasted all of about 3 days, but he'd really taken to painting.

Carol leaned against the wall and watched, hoping he wouldn't notice her for a few minutes. His process was fascinating. He was so intense and focussed as he swept his brush across the canvas several times and then followed up with a bunch of splatters in different colors. He stepped back again to examine what he'd done and Carol was pretty sure he'd never looked sexier. Her heart was thudding along with the hammering beat of the music.

She was about to sneak away and compose herself, but she got busted. "Hey, you're home," he called out. "Come see…" Daryl was waving her over. He turned down the music as she approached. "Before you look… don't laugh. My work is usually much darker and more… weird. But you inspired this…" Carol peeked around the corner and gasped. It was beautiful. Completely abstract. But it had a feel to it. Looking at the painting you could actually feel his emotions.

"Comfort… happiness…and something else…" Carol said. There was something she just couldn't quite put her finger on that he was trying to convey.

Daryl nodded. "I ain't gonna tell you," he replied with a grin. "I'll let it dry and have it framed. I think I'm gonna clear that wall and hang it," he pointed to the wall behind her. "I'm sure at some point before you leave you'll figure it out."

"You know it's gonna drive me crazy," Carol sighed, giving him a little pout in hopes that he'd just give in and tell her.

"Yep, I know. It's gonna be great," he teased. Daryl did a couple touch ups.

Carol glanced at the clock. "So what time do I need to catch a cab to be to Riverpark for 7?" she asked, staring at the painting and still trying to figure out that last feeling he was trying to convey.

"Oh, you're still going," Daryl muttered.

Carol looked at him. "Wouldn't want to waste that new pair of underwear. Or the matching bra. And the new outfit I bought. New shoes…"

"Let's go back to the underwear," he teased. "What's the bra look like? The offer still stands if you want to model them, ya know."

"I think I'll be just fine," she replied. "So what time do you think?"

"Hmm… be ready at 6," he said, gathering brushes. "I'll drive you. Gonna hit the end of the rush for sure, so it could take close to hour."

"Wait, what? No, no, no," Carol resisted. "You're not driving me to my date."

"Why not? Maybe I have my own plans and I'm just dropping you off on the way," he shot back. "Just go get ready, you've only got an hour… I know you girls need extra primping time."

Carol took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Daryl could be so damn frustrating sometimes. But he was also stubborn as a mule so she decided not to waste time arguing with him. "Fine, you can drop me off, but… I'll find my own way home… If I come home…" With that she turned and headed to the shower, leaving Daryl with a very interesting scowl.

Jealousy. That was the word of the moment. It was the word she couldn't get out of her mind the entire time she got ready for her date. She should have been thinking about the handsome, charming man she was going out with. But all she could think about was that look on Daryl's face.

Booty call. That was the next thing on her mind. It was what she was using to distract her from the strange way Daryl was acting and the crazy why her body continued to respond. Since when was jealousy a turn on? Jealousy wasn't sexy. But Daryl was sexy. And Daryl was jealous. Thus, jealous just became sexy. Carol sighed. So much for the booty call distraction. She was right back to square one.

Oh well, by the time I sit down at the table with William it will be fine, Carol thought. He would be sweet and kind. He would make her laugh. And he would turn her on. Because handsome, chivalrous men were a huge turn on. Sex crazed, perverted men who got jealous when they had no right to get jealous were not.

By the time she was ready to go, almost 10 minutes early, Carol felt better. She was going to have an amazing night - end of story. When she found Daryl in the kitchen he really did look like he had plans. Unfortunately for her, he looked pretty damn handsome. "Wow, you look hot," he said with a low whistle.

"You like?" Carol said, spinning around. She felt amazing and the compliment made her feel even better.

Daryl stood, walked over and kissed her cheek. "The lucky bastard is gonna wanna take you home the minute he sees you." He looked at her, his face serious. "He hurts you and I'll kill him," Daryl whispered. "Okay, let's go," he added quickly, making sure things didn't get awkward.

Daryl was right, it did take almost an hour to get to the restaurant. "Let me out back here," she said. She really didn't want William to see her climbing out of another man's car.

"You absolutely sure? Change your mind now and I'll take you out to an even better restaurant a few blocks North," Daryl offered.

"Thought you had plans?" Carol chuckled. "This is good, right here." He pulled over and she opened the door. "Don't wait up," she sang, climbing out and flashing him a brilliant smile and wave.

William was waiting at their table when Carol entered the restaurant. He saw her and stood, waving, with a gorgeous smile. He looked very handsome. She returned the smile and walked towards him. He held her chair and helped her sit. "You… wow… you look beautiful," he said, sitting back down across from her.

"Thank you," Carol replied, blushing slightly.

"I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of ordering my favourite wine," he said, motioning for the waiter to come pour.

She watched at her glass was filled with white wine. When the waiter left Carol lifted it to her lips and took a sip. "Mmm, delicious," she said genuinely. She honestly wasn't a picky wine

drinker, but she could tell whatever he ordered was not cheap and it was certainly worth every penny.

The evening continued and Carol was truly having a great time. William was just as charming as she'd expected he would be. He said all the right things, all the things she needed to hear. He was easy to talk to, he made her laugh, and she was… comfortable. But every once in a while she hoped for something… something a little less perfect. Something raw and passionate instead of clean and rehearsed. It reminded her of acting with someone who stuck exactly to the script. It was fine. It was easy. It always turned out okay. But when she worked with someone who improvised, because they were so full of passion for what they were doing - like she was - it was magical.

About halfway through the main course Carol noticed that something changed. William seemed distracted. "Are you okay?" she finally asked, feeling very curious.

William took a deep breath and looked at her. "I was going to just pretend I didn't know who you were right from the first moment I laid eyes on you in the airport," he admitted. "I thought maybe you would just want to be treated like a normal person and not wonder if I was interested in you because I know you're an actor."

Carol smiled. "It's okay. There are becoming less and less people who don't know who I am these days. Don't let it bother you."

"I wasn't going to worry about it. I really wasn't," William shook his head. "Until he showed up."

"He? Who? What are you talking about?" Carol asked, very confused. William gestured behind her to the left. She turned and felt her body fill with rage. Daryl was sitting at a table, eating dinner alone.

"I don't know what's going on… but Daryl Dixon is sitting a few tables over and he's had his eyes on you all night," William said, looking somewhat annoyed.

"I will take care of this," Carol hissed, her eyes flashing.

"No," William said, reaching for her arm to stop her. "I don't know what's going on between you two…I mean, the world knows you two are friends and I've heard rumours but never thought they could be true… Anyway, I don't want to be a part of whatever this is…"

"William, please," she started. What the fuck is going on? she screamed in her mind.

"Listen, it's been fun. No hard feelings, I promise," he offered a little smile. "I'm gonna take care of the cheque and be on my way."

"But… why… Can't we finish dinner? Or leave right now, go somewhere else?" Carol asked, wanting desperately to save the evening.

"You have no idea how he's been looking at you all night. Or the icy glare I'm getting," William chuckled. "He's been my favourite actor for a long time. I can't piss him off."

That statement was enough to not only piss her off more, but to allow her to let him go. If William was more concerned about hurting Daryl's feelings than having a good time with her than he wasn't worth the fight. He stood and came over to place a kiss on her cheek. "Sorry things didn't work out," he said softly. "Feel free to stay and finish the wine if you want. Or I can call a cab if you want."

"I'm fine," Carol said, trying not to sound too cold. "Night."

She watched him leave and took a minute to gather her composure before she stood and walked to Daryl's table. "What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing. Here?" she seethed, through clenched teeth.

"I was hungry," he shrugged. "This ravioli is amazing, want a bite?" he asked, holding out his fork.

"Stuff down the rest of your fucking ravioli, pay your damn bill and take me home," Carol hissed, her eyes flashing. She had never been more angry with him in her entire life. In fact, right then she couldn't remember ever being truly angry with him:

"Are you mad at me?" he asked so innocently it was almost believable.

"We'll talk at home," Carol said, taking a calming breath so as not to cause a scene in the restaurant. She gave him the silent treatment the entire drive, which was the worst form of torture for a guy like Daryl who didn't deal well with someone being mad at him. Eventually he gave up and sang along with the radio. She refused to let his off key singing charm her.

The second they walked into his apartment and the door shut, she dropped her purse to the floor, spun on him and let loose. "What the fuck were you thinking? Why would you eat dinner where you knew I was on a date? He left. He left because of you. You ruined my plans. You ruined my night," she growled. Daryl looked like a child getting a scalding at the principal's office and for once in his life he knew enough to keep his mouth shut. "He was sweet and kind. I was having fun. We were having a great time. And you wrecked it all with your stupid testosterone fueled glares."

"Wait, what?" Daryl interrupted. "I wasn't glaring at anyone. It's my beady little eyes. People just think I'm glaring when I'm not."

"Cut the crap," Carol said, putting her hands on her hips. "William said you were glaring and I believe him."

"So why?" she took a step towards him that was supposed to be threatening, but he didn't seem the least bit concerned. "Why were you really there? Why did you stay? Why did you want to drive me there in the first place?" Carol was pushing. Hard. And she wasn't even sure she wanted to know the answer. "Come on Daryl, tell me the truth. You think I can't handle the truth?" What was the truth? she wondered. Was it really jealousy? Or was he being over protective. Did he not think she could handle herself? Did he not trust her? She took another step towards him. "Tell me," she hissed.

"Okay fine," he snapped. "You really want to know?" Daryl took a step towards her and she could feel the tension between them double. "I didn't want you to go home with him. Didn't want you to fuck him. Didn't want you to spend the night. And not… come home… to… me…"

His words hung in the air, filling the room with a heaviness to the point Carol was struggling to breathe. What did that mean? She wanted to scream. It was still so vague. His voice softened and he took another step forward, close enough to reach out and touch her cheek. "I couldn't stand the thought of his hands on you." Carol felt her heart start to go crazy. "It was stupid, I know… and I tried to drive away. But the next thing I knew I was parking. And I walked in, requested a table that I knew was close to yours…" He licked his lips. "Maybe I was glaring… a bit," he admitted with his stupid sexy grin. "But it wasn't often because I couldn't take my eyes off you."

All of a sudden everything became clear. It had been jealously all along. Just like she thought. But instead of being angry… Carol was flattered. Completely floored, but absolutely flattered. The next step was perfectly obvious. "I had big plans," Carol said softly. "Big plans that you ruined."

"I'm so sorry," he sighed.

"Guess you'll have to make it up to me somehow," she replied, catching his eye and holding his gaze. "I was supposed to get laid tonight. Fuck, I need to get laid, so bad," she groaned, immediately seeing the desire reflecting in his eyes. "But you went and messed that all up now didn't you?" Carol said sassily. "So," she turned on the seductive charm. "Tell me Dixon, whatcha gonna do about it?"