Elizabeth had ordered a pizza and was enjoying a "Die Hard" marathon of Tim's DVD's when there was a knock on the door. She palmed her own Sig from her bag, their father may not have liked guns but the Gutterson kids had a fond respect for 'the great equalizer.' Checking the peephole, she saw a Stetson and opened the door in curiosity. "Hello, Cowboy."
"Hello," Cowboy blinked. He checked the address on the side of the townhouse and looked back at her, "Is Tim or Clare home?"
"Why?" Cowboy was damn cute, all dark eyes and drawl. He irrationally reminded her of that John Fogerty song, "Centerfield…"
"Roundin' third and headed for home, it's a brown-eyed, handsome man…"
"Who're you?" Cowboy finally got out.
"You wanna turn that around for me, Cowboy?"
He kept his eyes on her, pulling his credentials from his belt, "Raylan Givens… I didn't know Tim had a sister."
She grinned at him. Tim kept his mouth shut for a reason. Cowboy drawl reeked of emotional havoc. But she'd been stable for a while now and change is good… But that might be the butter pecan bourbon talking. "Elizabeth. Come in, Raylan. They should be getting hungry soon." Raylan kept his eyes on her as he stepped in, "Would you like somethin' to drink, Raylan?"
"Sure, Elizabeth. What do you have?"
"What do you want, Raylan?" she knew Tim would kill her for flirting with one of his colleagues... but.
Raylan pursed his lips, "You aren't intending on going anywhere tonight, are you?"
She poured herself more butter pecan bourbon and gave Raylan some, too. "No, Raylan, I'm not going anywhere tonight. Are you?"
"Well," he sipped the concoction, "I'm more of a vanilla man myself. What is this?"
"My current favorite milkshake." She gestured to the blender and extraneous materials.
"You mix good bourbon and ice cream?"
"A few of my favorite things."
"Mine too," he nodded, still eyeing the blender. "Favorite things." Turning back to Elizabeth with another swig, "Um, how long until Tim's available?"
Elizabeth walked back to the couch with a little more swing in her hips than usual and plopped in the middle of the couch, "We-ell... They've been up there through two movies and Samuel L. Jackson's introduction. They're bound to get hungry soon. Clare seems to have an appetite even without the rabbit behavior."
Raylan's eyebrows went up at "rabbit behavior," but he followed her to the couch and sat next to her, keeping a couple of inches between them at least. "You like her?"
"My sister-in-law. Give me a few weeks. Hell, give them a few weeks," she smiled. "Yeah. I like her."
"She's had a rough couple of years. Tim's been in the middle of 'em. I think she needs time."
"He's not taking advantage of any vulnerability if he's sticking around," she pointed out. "And while I love my brother to death, he's hardly a peach."
"Very true," Raylan conceded to a swat on the arm. "I know she loves him though. Tough, too."
"You like her."
"Yep. Might even suit each other, too. I'm not a good judge of that part apparently."
"Me either. My ex-husband and I suited each other, I thought... Still in therapy from it."
"The divorce or the marriage?"
Elizabeth snorted into her ice cream, "Never pondered that specific point."
"I knocked up my ex-wife."
"Before or after the divorce?"
"After she was in the middle of divorcing the guy she left me for," he sipped, looking for alcohol.
"Y'know, I'd heard of that phenomenon..."
"Mmm," Clare curled toward him.
"I'm tired." He said, not rolling away. "I love you and I'll love you again later, but I'm tired."
She burst out laughing, before kissing him, "Baby, I love you but I like bein' able to walk..."
"Fun-ny," he started saying, going to tickle her belly. Instead Clare didn't laugh but moved closer in his hands, molding her body to his to whisper in his ear, "I'm starving and I had to do the shopping. Feed me."
He pulled back with a scowl, "I spend all day at work-" he cut himself off as she snorted her derision, "Fine. But you've got to come with me." He searched for his boxers and jeans as she pulled on his shirt and waggled her one of her fingers for him to follow her down the stairs as the other tried to comb through and tame her hair.
She let him catch her on the stairs, his hands toying with the buttons on the dark green shirt he'd worn to the office earlier, it hid everything on her slight body but he knew she was naked under it, which was enough for him. He was nibbling under her ear when she said, "Hi, Raylan. Elizabeth."
"The fuck?" Tim stopped nibbling to scowl at his partner and his sister, thankfully both dressed.
"Hi, Clare," Raylan gave a little nod to her as he stood, then to Tim, "So, I spoke to Duffy—"
"As was the plan. I remember," Tim crossed his arms over his bare chest. "Was it that interesting?"
"Not until I heard from Art that Moss got Stark to confess to implicating Clare," Raylan said.
"And..."
"It matters because Duffy's going to go after Moss now," Clare finished, walking to the kitchen door.
"So-" Tim started, pouting a little as Clare narrowed her eyes at him and he followed her to the kitchen, saying, "So we get to protect Moss as we try to build case against him? Because we aren't busy enough?"
"Babe?" Clare held out her hand and pulled Tim with her into the kitchen, holding up one finger for Raylan. Whispering, she said, "Moss is still bein' investigated for collusion. I don't know what the SEC is going to say about his and Graham's deal, but are you really gonna turn down the chance to arrest him?"
"You don't want him arrested," Tim pointed out with finality.
Clare swallowed, "I do kind of feel like I owe my freedom to him on one level, but—"
"Graham killed himself to not die like Stark and that guard—"
"Which Moss must be responsible for, so why can't we let Duffy handle him? Is that your point?"
Tim scowled, leaning against his counter, "He's a murdering creep. I don't care if he has a crush on you. In fact, I'm all the more for Duffy because he has a crush on you."
Clare squeezed her eyes shut, she had no argument for that one, damn him. One deep breath in and she felt his arms around her, "Do you want him alive?"
"Honestly? I don't give a damn. I just... Am I... Is being with me fucking up your job? Because that's how I'm feeling," she tried not to snap. "Can we just—"
"After we eat," Tim finished for her, pecking her on the top of her head. "And no, you don't fuck up my job."
"I'm just keeping it interesting now?"
"You having second thoughts about that ring?"
She tilted her head up to look at him as she said, very seriously, "You'll have to cut it off my finger."
"I love you, too. Go tell Raylan we'll keep Moss alive unless we think we'll get enough to put Duffy away, too."
"Why? Are you cooking?"
"I have to see what ya'll've done to my kitchen. I can probably handle steak and eggs while I'm at it," he kissed her, pushing her out towards Elizabeth and Raylan.
"Seriously? You left a can in your pantry to corrode and it was empty on the shelf, and you're going to cook?"
"Out of my kitchen, woman," Tim's head was in his freezer.
"Your milk was from last year!" she stood in the doorway with her arms folded, "Elizabeth, can your brother cook?"
There were exchanged glances in the next room before Elizabeth replied, "Cook what?"
"Please, tell her I have lived this long by developing a few kitchen skills," Tim hollered, setting a couple of rib eyes in a pan.
Raylan stood in the doorway with Clare when Tim looked back up, "You gonna comment, too?"
"I'll back you for a cup of coffee and one of those," Raylan offered.
"Done."
Beer in hand, Raylan took to action, "Alright, ladies, give the man some space. American hero at work here," he shooed Clare and Elizabeth out. Gesturing for Raylan to make his own coffee, which he did.
"Thank you," Tim said, as he went to look in his dryer for a shirt, straightening when he saw it was empty, "Woman, where are my clothes?"
"In the basket. You're welcome," Clare shot back from the living room.
Raylan didn't bother to squeeze his lips together to keep from smirking.
Tim grumbled as he palmed through the basket above his dryer for a shirt, settling on a wife-beater, and went back to watching the steaks sizzle on the heating stove. "Over easy, ok?"
"Please. So, was that a ring on Clare's-"
"Yeah. Elizabeth brought it with her from Raleigh today, probably left last night after I called her about it."
"Pretty."
Tim's eyes flickered to nonchalant-Raylan. "Did Art send you over to talk to me about this?"
Raylan snorted, "Like he'd trust me with that?"
"Yeah. He would. You may be off the rails but you still 'taught firearms together at Glynco'," sufficiently assured the steaks were under control, Tim got the eggs from the refrigerator while watching Raylan pour his coffee nervously. "So, is it the 'moving-too-fast' argument you're taking or the 'think-about-your-career-and-take-your-time' angle, you're working?" he asked softly enough Clare wouldn't hear.
"Honestly? Neither. I like Clare. I think you'll be fine once we're working on something that doesn't involve her and I think she might get you." Raylan shrugged, "If this creep Moss saved her-"
"I don't trust him and I don't like him-"
"He's not competition, Tim. She-"
"It's not that I'm jealous. It's that," Tim paused looking for the right words, "he's a predator and Clare's his prey. He likes her, like Hannibal liked Clarice Starling. She's a toy that interests him and it scares the hell out of me that one day she'll have the chance to... I don't know. Disappoint his crazed expectations, and he'll hurt her for it," he finished softly.
"He's stalking your girl?" Raylan whispered.
"Near as I can figure. He's this strange protector for now, manipulating things to her benefit, but for how long?"
"And what about you?"
Deep breath. "He never counted on me," Tim said. "What I keep hearing; 'No one figured on me and her being in those woods together'."
"Moss could target you, Tim," Raylan pointed out, earning himself an "I know, you moron" look from Tim. "This is a field I have a little more experience in."
Tim conceded the point with a nod and flipped the steaks in their pans. "Carry on."
"Clare didn't have the ring when ya'll saw Moss earlier, right?"
"Yeah. You think that'll convince him to make a move? Naw, Moss... approves of me. In his way."
"Would he still approve if he thought you and Clare were rushing into a wedding without protecting her interests?"
Tim turned to look at Raylan, "English?"
"Your girl has got money. And position. Come divorce time, you could get half of that money and position, without a pre-nup. If you pretend to rush into a wedding, it could provoke Moss... Look, he's not Duffy and we can always wait for him to take Moss out, but Wynn Duffy has not impressed me with competence of late," Raylan explained slowly.
"Just to clarify... You want me too rush an already fairly sped-up relationship—one that I would like to work, by the way- and get married... just to piss off the sociopath that likes my girl?" Tim broke the eggs into the pans and gestured to a cabinet next to Raylan, "Plates should still be in there."
"So, you'll propose at the drop of a hat but 'let's take the engagement longer'?" Raylan sneered.
"I already had to convince her not to find an apartment, Raylan. Clare just got her life back and; yeah, I'm being selfish not wanting to lose her when I just got her, but I won't screw this up." Tim was adamant.
"Eggs."
Tim twitched and scowled, turning to flip the eggs before they burnt, "I can't do it, Raylan. I've... Look, I'm not you. My 'any-port-in-a-storm' was just that, a port in a storm. No emotion beyond attraction. No concern beyond disease and pregnancy. And, usually, there was no evolution to that arrangement, which I was fine with, but... Clare is... special to me. Ok? I can't lose her, now I've got her. Can you get that?"
Raylan pretended to ponder this while Tim plated the steak and eggs, waiting until Tim had put the hot pans in the sink before pointing out, "And if she 'disappoints' Moss before you get around to suits and white dresses?"
Tim set the plates on the counter and turned to Raylan with a pensive expression, "Nice timing on that."
"On what?"
Tim took a half step and a swing and Raylan and his coffee were on the floor.
Palming the currently explosive pain in his jaw, Raylan looked up at Tim who was squatting above him, whispering softly when he was sure he had Raylan's attention, "Don't threaten her."
"I'm not the threat here," Raylan got out, working his jaw. He'd had worse and Tim certainly hadn't hit him as hard as he could have, but it still hurt like a bitch. He managed to continue gently, "You wanna save her. Then save her. I'm just trying to help you both."
Clare, in jeans under Tim's shirt now, and Elizabeth met them at the doorway, "What the hell, bébé?"
"I slipped," Raylan said ironically, looking at his lost coffee. "It was very sad."
"Sad?" Elizabeth asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Sudden," Raylan corrected. "It was very sudden. I lost my coffee."
"Uh huh," Clare said, squinting at Raylan's eyes and shooting Tim a look before getting Raylan a bag of blueberries from the freezer for his face.
"Food's ready," Tim offered cheerily, gesturing at the plates.