3:06 a.m.

Tim groaned at the time on his alarm clock, wishing he could sleep. He pushed the covers off of him and sat up. He buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes, feeling a headache due to restlessness coming on. Tim recalled how the night went before coming home two hours ago. He and Tara were downing beers left and right, laughing and talking. He kept staring into her dark green eyes and wishing he could kiss her. Hell, he was going to, until another asshole decided to hit on her.

I wish he had the stones to do that up front. I would've kicked his ass.

Initially he didn't think Tara was too bothered, but she soon became tense. He noticed her eyes often shifting around whenever she thought Tim wasn't paying attention. Her pretty lips were tight and closed. She soon said she was exhausted and hated to wrap things up early. Tara kissed his cheek, Tim clearly remembered that. He could still smell her hair. Tim thought a girl's hair smelling like honey was a cliché from chick flicks and romance novels, but that young doctor proved otherwise.

Before he was even out of his groggy state, Tim found himself in front of his fridge, eyeing for a beer. Not much of anything was in the way: a few half empty styrofoam boxes and a gallon of milk occupying one of the three shelves. He closed the wasted the fridge and made his way to the black couch in the living room. He sunk into it, feeling for the television remote. Clicking the tv on, Tim scoffed.

I'm sitting on my couch in my boxers, watching fucking infomercials at three in the morning. Awesome.

"There has to something I can do to get him to stop. I'm in Kentucky, for Christ's sake! How the fuck can he just show up in Kentucky? And there's no way it's for work. Fuck him, he can't do this to me again,"

Tara's hand was shaking so much she could barely hold the slim phone to her ear. She was lying on her bed, mascara running from crying. She looked over at the time – almost four in the morning.

"I don't know what to tell you, Tara. You've tried restraining orders. He's just going to get it waived. I swear I kept it quiet about your transfer," Tara could hear the anxiety in Melissa's voice.

Melissa attended medical school in Chicago with Tara, and they soon became close friends. Melissa never trusted John Kohn, and was the only confidant Tara had. She was always at Tara's side – when she filed repeatedly for restraining orders, when she needed a safe place to sleep, and when she needed someone to hold her hand at the abortion clinic.

"He has other ways of finding people," Tara muttered.

"Maybe he just had someone slip the note to you and left immediately. You were on a date with a marshal after all, probably scared the shit out of him."

"It's not like he was waving a badge and gun around,"

"How hot is he?" Tara envisioned Melissa winking while asking the question.

"Unbelievably."

"Any baggage?"

"I can't judge anyone with baggage, Melissa. Not with my shit."

"I told you just to make up a drunken story about the crow eater tattoo."

"I've asked you not to call it that," Tara said sharply.

"Sorry, sorry," Melissa stayed silent for minute, "Why didn't you just to go California, anyway? They could have helped."

"I can handle my own shit. I always have. There was nothing for me there. Kentucky may seem like a silly decision, but I think I can find my place here."

"Well, doc, I'm surprised to hear your voice," Tim said when he answered his cell, leaning back in his car seat.

"I know it's been a few days, and I feel incredibly guilty—"

"You're not calling to confess something, are you?"

Tara gave a small laugh on the other line.

"Yes, actually. I have to confess that our date didn't end the way I wish it did, and I would like to go out again."

"I'd like that, too. How about dinner this time?"

"Perfect. I can cook," Tara quickly answered.

"Saves me from making reservations at the finest restaurant in Lexington, if that exists," Tim enjoyed the thought of being around her with no one else in the room. No distractions. No slipped phone numbers.

"See you at my place at eight sharp, deputy marshal."

"So you're not a fan of well done steak, huh?" Tim said, cutting the meat in from of him to reveal a medium, pink center.

"Sorry, the rarer the better," Tara grinned while cutting her own across from him.

"Didn't think doctors approved of that."

"You don't see me serving it to babies, do you? But I can always put yours back on the stove until it's charcoal, if you'd like."

Tim laughed and shook his head, taking a big bite. They ate much of their meal in quiet, but he anticipated telling her the good news from that afternoon. Something he knew she'd take comfort in knowing.

"I thought you'd like to, uh, know that Abigail isn't going anywhere near her biological family. I talked to Child Services, and her grandma is nowhere near being a suitable guardian. When she's out of the hospital, she can be adopted. Apparently a few families are already interested,"

Tim loved seeing Tara's green eyes widen at the news. Goddamn, she has the prettiest face.

"Thank you, Tim. That means so much to me. You're a good man," Tara placed her cloth napkin on the empty plate and got up from her seat, making eye contact with him the whole time.

Tim's back straightened as she walked up to him. He still sat in the chair, frozen from watching her.

"This is how I wanted our date to end," Tara said softly as she grabbed his hand, pulling for him to stand as well.

Tara pressed her lips against his, her arms around his neck. He returned the kiss, harder, and placed his hands on her lower back. He wanted to grasp every curve of her body as their mouths opened and the intensity grew. Tara pushed him against the wall, and they both laughed when catching their breath.

"Bedroom's down the hall," she whispered as his mouth trailed down lightly from her neck to her chest.

They could barely make it to the room, fumbling as they kicked off their shoes. Tara unbuttoned his shirt and quickly pushed it off, then allowed him to take off hers. Once there, Tara removed her jeans, making eye contact with him. He fucking loved it, and couldn't take his eyes off of her as she unhooked her bra and slid off her underwear, revealing every curve and crevice of her body that Tim dreamed of.

"You just going to stare?" Tara smirked.

"I was hopin' you would wear those sexy scrubs," Tim joked.

Tara playfully rolled her eyes, "Take off your pants." He obliged.

She pushed him on the bed, climbing on top of him. They kissed again, his hands exploring her body as she rubbed her hand on his cock, teasing his erection. Tara and Tim made eye contact again as she sunk into him, both giving small gasps. Tim continued kissing her hard on the neck, moving down to her breasts. Her skin was so soft; he thought he could never stop touching her.

Tim felt her muscles tighten around his cock as she rode him, and she wrapped her arms again around his neck, pulling his face closer to hers. He hadn't seen anything more beautiful. The touch of her skin, the warmth of her deep breaths, feeling himself inside her – he felt the intense pleasure in every inch of his body.

Tara rode him faster and faster, clenching him and moaning. Tim groaned and buried his face in her chest, their breaths quickening as they reached climax.

Tara rolled off of him and lay on her side, her hand resting on his chest. Both of them took a moment for their breaths to regulate.

"What are you thinking?" Tara asked him.

That you're the first I've had in months, and I can't believe I'm in bed with you.