*** Yeehaw...I'm back in action. The month of May is insane, that's all. Now, where were we in the story? Oh *yes*...they *did* do that, didn't they? And the definition of 'awkward' would be...well...let's see how it's going on the ranch. ***

*** I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Rj_lupins_kat. It's her birthday soon! Thanks for being a fabulous friend and an amazing lady! ***

Sara: The least you can do is take off your hat.

Hogan: Haven't got time for that.

- Two Mules for Sister Sara

-o-o-

Violet: Alright, you win. I'll do it.

Kevin: I love winning.

- Coyote Ugly

Mary slowly prodded her awareness beyond her semi-somnolent state, noticing sounds and smells as they intruded upon her consciousness, but not yet ready to open her eyes. The mental cheerleaders had been worn out, pom-poms and megaphones abandoned in some post-orgasmic rapture, leaving only echoes of encouragement resounding on the field of play. She chuckled softly at her own ridiculous image. Somehow, she felt victorious. A conqueror of what, exactly, she wasn't sure, but she knew there had been some battle fought and won, and now she lay enjoying the spoils of victory; a fading endorphin rush that left her spent and…content.

Marshall had braced them both against the wall, his breath hot and moist as he had panted and murmured against her neck, likely having as much trouble supporting his own weight as she; legs weak and trembling with effort while beleaguered hormones contributed to the dizzying afterstate. It had been a long time since she had had mind blowing sex, and when he gripped her waist for balance as he slowly slipped out of her, Mary stumbled slightly with the shift in their weight, more unsteady than she had thought.

He muttered a 'whoa', which caused them both to giggle slightly, and they had straightened their jeans and helped each other to the floor, too aware of the potential awkwardness to commit to conversation or argument…or fastenings. Mary had allowed him to encourage her into her current state: supine and using his thigh as a headrest as he sat with his back against the wall. She was now bothered by the straw poking into her back and aware of the cool breeze from the window caressing the bare skin of her abdomen. Frowning, she reached up to pull her t-shirt down the last few inches and finally button her jeans, shifting slightly to remove a particularly pointy piece of straw from under her ribs. The small movements reminded her there were going to be a few unusually tender spots in the morning. Rode hard. Mary crossed her legs at the ankle as she folded her hands on her stomach and sighed.

"Marshall?" her voice gently interrupted a cricket's song from the corner.

"Hmm?" His sleepy acknowledgment was punctuated by his fingers curling around her bicep, smoothing the material of her shirt before coming to rest near her elbow.

"Remind me to keep an eye on my six the next time we're alone in a barn."

She opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling as she heard him fully awaken with a deep breath. Fought a grin as she felt him stare at her in the dark.

Marshall had happily allowed his mind to wander in post-coital bliss for the brief amount of time that his partner would let him, encouraged by the fact she hadn't turn tail and run as of yet…or beat him senseless. He slowly rocked his head against a seam in the wall to keep himself from falling completely asleep, lulled close to the edge by the fading tingle of pleasure in his loins, the dark muskiness of the stall and the warm weight of Mary's head on his thigh. Content. Long buried desires released at last, and he huffed a quiet grunt of amusement at a stray thought to call his mother and assure her he was in no more danger of trouser asphyxiation.

He had felt Mary stir, rousing to wakefulness and likely seeking a more comfortable position, and he momentarily mourned the loss of imagined romance that was certain to follow. Her statement had him rolling his head to one side to peer down at her. There was no tension or accusation in her tone, her muscles relaxed under his hand, so he took his time to ponder his reply. Decided to play into the attempt at banter as his battered brain cells were too tired to avoid potential pitfalls.

"Would you have preferred I took the time to remove your boots?" he asked with a grin.

Mary released a short 'pfft' with her reply, "And end up with splinters in my ass? No thanks, Romeo."

Her mention of that most delectable part of her anatomy had him humming in remembered pleasure, and she reached out to grab a handful of straw and toss it backwards onto his chest. "Hey!" he protested, brushing it off and picking a few stray pieces out of her hair. He let his fingers linger on her forehead, slowly tracing the arc of her hairline as the silence again descended.

"Sooo…" he let the word swirl into the shadows and waited; tried not to let the anxiety take root in his gut.

Mary tilted her head back to squint at him. "I'm still here, Marshall. We're good." She rolled onto her side to get a more direct line of sight. "But if you start waxing poetic about fireworks or some such crap you'll find your ass right back at the self service pump."

"The ancient Chinese accidentally invented fireworks sometime during the 7th century when one of their master chefs combined odd ingredients with intent to make an elixir of immortality. The resulting colorful flash-bang was eventually packaged, and thought to ward off evil spirits." Marshall continued his educational comeback despite Mary's loud sigh and half-hearted punch to his thigh as she levered herself into a sitting position beside him. "To this day, fireworks are used in celebration of births, deaths and other victorious events."

He turned his head to see her picking a few more pieces of straw from her hair, disheveled and trying her best to ignore him. He felt a lump in his throat.

"Ni shi jing ren he mei li de nu," he said softly, thinking of ancient celebrations of new paths and new life.

"If that means you sound ridiculous speaking Chinese, I couldn't agree more." Mary closed her eyes and rested her head back against the wall.

"My lady would prefer…Zuni?" he asked with a smile. "Tom ho' ichema." He felt a little flutter of excitement in his gut even though she didn't understand the words.

The words may have meant nothing to her, but the tone…Mary could feel the heat of his body only centimeters from her own, and she knew if she opened her eyes to look in his there would be far too much emotion there to keep her afloat. Too far to fall off of a cliff she had only just been brave enough to approach. It was too soon.

"Wax any more and you'll be speaking Brazilian," she warned.

He couldn't stop himself. "Actually, there's no such language - "

"Marshall…"

He fell silent, heeding both her warning and his own need to step back from the slippery slope he'd almost started upon. He wanted to touch her, knew he shouldn't, but needed some reason to keep her there for a little while longer.

"How long have you known about Sheryl and Eliot?" he asked, not able to think of any delay tactic other than discussion of the case.

"I haven't been keeping it from you," she replied, surprisingly defensive.

Marshall reached over to lay a hand on her thigh, just for a moment. "I didn't mean to imply you were withholding information, Mare. I was just curious as to when you realized they were together. Putting together a timeline." He took his hand back and shifted his weight to relieve some pressure on his backside.

She felt slightly ridiculous, defenses on overdrive for reasons she was sure to over-analyze later. Taking a deep breath, Mary forced herself to focus on the here and now. He wasn't asking anything other than the obvious. She picked up a piece of straw to shred.

"I suspected during the rodeo. Just the way they looked at each other. By the time we were all at the picnic they were just about dry humping over a plate of ribs." Flecks of yellow began to cover her lap. "It didn't go unnoticed."

Reflections of the day had her suddenly frowning and digging her phone out of its holder. Marshall straightened to attention. "What?"

"I texted Stan earlier. Basically asked him to pull anything on Sweeney." She scrolled through her text log. Nothing. "Huh."

"Stan's supposed to send me some downloads later tonight. I'll ask him to include anything on your request, but I don't think Eliot was tagged at a threat." The blue glow from Mary's cell phone screen blinked out as she reholstered it. "Good 'ole Southern boy recruited into the Navy, did his time in the Middle East, wounded in combat on his last tour with a Distinguished Service medal, and now he's come full circle and back on a ranch."

He could feel Mary squinting at him and swiveled his head to return the stare, eyebrows raised. "Did you not read the file?"

"I read it," she replied. "I just didn't take it into the bathroom for study." She flicked the straw detritus off her lap and picked up another piece. "What he'd get the medal for?"

Marshall shrugged, unseen. "It's redacted. The only part of his file we couldn't get. Not surprising, considering he was a SEAL."

Mary chuckled and let her head fall back against the wall. "Jesus. A cowboy, a SEAL, great looking with a great ass, and halfway intelligent. I'm surprised he's not on a cover of some trashy romance novel…or that my roommate hasn't climbed him like a tree yet."

His flinch wasn't noticed. "Um, yeah…about that…"

"Let's not, okay? Especially now."

Her quick dismissal was understandable, but his thoughts had already replayed the incident. Backtracked a little further. "Okay, but let me ask you, what has she told you about her background?"

Mary's head came off the wall again as she peered at him. "Seriously, Marshall, the milk maid?"

"I overheard a small part of a conversation she was having with one of the tack managers about the round-up. In Spanish…fluent Spanish." He cracked his knuckles as he waited for her reply. "It seemed rather dichotomous considering her heritage and citizenship."

"Says the man who spouts random crap in French and Chinese," she retorted smugly, more than happy to pounce on his hypocrisy as he gave her a long suffering look. "You're barking up the wrong tree, Lassie. Diane's made no secret about her upbringing south of the border. In fact, she still has relatives down there in some city I can't pronounce, and they have huge family reunions every year. Trust me, Iowa's here for the carnival rides, nothing more."

He nodded slowly. "That's the story she gave me too. It's plausible…" He let the thought tumble about as he began the slow process of getting up off the floor. His efforts were soon mirrored by his partner, and grunts and groans were the rewards for achieving the vertical.

Marshall brushed bedding off his ass while continuing the conversation. "If you were a betting woman, who would you say is the inside man?"

Mary tugged on her jeans as she considered the question. Ran a hand through her hair as she considered the oddest post-sex conversation she'd ever had. "My money's almost all on DuBois. I think he has contacts beyond Brad, and I think he's been biding his time. How long he's been sleeping with the Zetas is anyone's guess."

Marshall hummed in thought as he pondered her reply while cleaning up the stall. Mary found his hat tossed into a corner and grabbed it before stepping over to meet him in the doorway. She watched him while he cleaned his hands with a handkerchief. He seemed taller somehow…more solid. Likely a trick of the light as the night deepened, but a queer feeling in her gut dared her to think otherwise.

Dared her to think of her partner as a man worthy of respect outside of the job. A man who attracted more than his share of admirers who'd be more than happy to take him to their bed. A man. Not a goofy sidekick she could so easily dismiss once he was out of sight, though that had been nearly impossible since that day in the office. It had been leading to this, she couldn't deny that looking back now, but she hadn't expected to feel quite so…off. Quite so unsure of herself. She also hadn't expected to allow any man to take her the way Marshall had. There was a wildness there that excited her more than it probably should, and she wondered what it would be like next time. And the time after that. Shifting her weight, she was glad she brought multiple pairs of jeans.

"…ransom?" The tail end of his question had her blinking at him quizzically in the dark.

"What?"

He smiled. "My hat?" Held out his hand. "And dare I ask what you were thinking just now?"

Mary bypassed his reach and stepped forward to place the hat on his head; straightened his collar as her hands trailed down to rest lightly on his ribcage. "Thinking about how many ways I'm going to kick your ass for tricking me into that barrel race today."

His throat was a little dry with her ministrations, her touch always eliciting small jolts of electricity that went straight to his groin, but had to smile with her blatant lie. He could read her too well. She'd been feigning nonchalance since they both stirred back to awareness on the stall floor, and he wondered if it was just an overall discomfort with post-coital chit chat or something more specific. Some emotional battle she'd never admit.

He had, in a way, forced her into a state of trust against that wall. No coercion to the act itself, but in their immediate need she had given permission to him alone. He would chastise himself if he stopped to think about all the reasons she could've drawn the line there, but she didn't. She trusted. She stayed.

Marshall reached up to frame her face with both hands, tilting her head up gently so she would meet his gaze. The darkness intensified the intimacy. He caressed her cheekbones with his thumbs, and her fingers lightly grazed his ribs in response.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a near whisper.

There was no reply she'd be able to give without choking on the lump of emotion in her throat, so Mary just nodded. He leaned forward, hesitated, then closed the distance between them with a slow, reassuring kiss. His hands supported her head as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, enjoying the way his lips played across hers as the night whispered around them.

Finally, Marshall pulled back with a slow moan, sighing as he stared down at her with a crooked grin. "I wonder how many empty stalls are in this place."

Mary slapped at his chest, grateful for his casual segue. "Dream on, Tonto. This is the one and only time I pick straw out my pants for you." She saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and was quick to amend her statement. "Next time better be in the proximity of a hot shower and a kitchen."

He grinned widely and released her, reassured, then sobered quickly as they heard Brad's truck rumble back into the parking lot. It was time to disappear back into the ruse.

"Take the back way out of here, Mary, and loop around behind the corral to get to your cabin." Marshall nudged her towards the back doors as he spoke. "He won't see you that way whether he heads to the bunkhouse or the office."

"What about you?" she asked, hesitating.

"I'm a cowboy. I've got about ten good reasons to be in this barn right now." He hooked his thumbs in his jeans and posed.

"You're an idiot," she mumbled, chuckling as she turned towards her escape.

/\/\/\/\\\\\\\\\\\/\\\\\\\\\\\\\\/\/\/\/

Sheryl again lay staring at the dancing shadows on the ceiling for a second night in a row. This time, though, fear had been replaced by comfort, and the weight of decision no longer lay heavy upon her chest. In fact, the only thing that lay upon her chest was the well muscled arm of the person responsible for her languid state. Eliot. He had followed her home after the altercation in the parking lot, soothing both physical and emotional unrest, and finally giving in to more carnal desires as they both needed more than words and hot tea. He fussed slightly about waking the children, but as she slid out of her shirt and shorts his protests died on a moan, and he closed the bedroom door before quickly divesting himself of his own clothes.

It had been a long, long time since she had taken a man to her bed, Gary's disappearance holding her to vows she took seriously, and Sheryl had nearly forgotten the feeling of relaxed pleasure only achieved from vigorous lovemaking. Content. Spent. Delightfully sore. She rubbed Eliot's arm as she hummed in satisfaction. He stirred in response.

"I should go," he whispered, scooting closer to nuzzle her ear. "Or at least move out to the couch before the kids wake up."

"Are you worried about your honor?" she teased, turning her head to meet his lips with a soft kiss.

"Mmmm," he murmured into her mouth, his captured arm now shifting so he could caress her shoulder, down to her breast to play with her nipple. "You could convince me to stay a little longer, darlin'."

Sheryl caught her breath as he gently pinched her, rolled to face him and slid her leg up over his. She smiled as his hardness nestled against her. "I think you've already convinced yourself."

Eliot reached down to hitch her leg up over his waist as he rolled her under him with a wicked grin. Kissed her hard and long as she wiggled slightly to coax him into her.

"Stay…a little longer…" her gasp joined his groan as he slid home.

***Well now. Everyone's got their itches scratched and the night can fade to morning with a little peace and quiet. But it won't last. Now things are going to start getting *very* interesting. Please REVIEW to let me know what you think! I await with bated breath! You all are the most amazing readers :) ***

"Ni shi jing ren he mei li de nu" - You are amazing and I adore you

"Tom ho' ichema" - I love you