Author's Note: So sorry guys! This summer has been flying by, and I got distracted by writing Five Times Audrey Tells Nathan She Loves Him … And One Time She Doesn't. Which you should all go read, by the way, if you haven't already.

Song for this chapter is More of You by the Goo Goo Dolls. Most of their latest album, Magnetic, has a strong Nathan/Audrey vibe, I think, and I highly recommend it.

Am I ever gonna get you next to me?
Come on will you give me a sign
I think we both could use some mending
No matter what you say I'm gonna make you mine

Are you gonna keep me waiting
Are you gonna let me inside
When you're comin' undone
Do you wanna run away tonight?

Nathan liked to read the newspaper in the morning, and Audrey liked to read Nathan.

She'd always been one to stay up too late and rue the morning, leaving herself just enough time after her alarm sounded to dress and run out the door. But Nathan, apparently, preferred leisurely mornings. Whenever she groused that his alarm went off far too early he'd apologize with a kiss – or sometimes more than a kiss – and then slip out of bed to get ready. When she finally emerged showered and dressed she'd find him in the kitchen with his head in the Haven Herald, breakfast and coffee already waiting at the place beside him. He'd acknowledge her when she entered but his attention always went back to the paper as if he actually believed the lies the Teagues printed about their dangerous little town.

So she would eat her eggs and wait for the caffeine to work its way through her system, and because she had no interest in reaching for any of Nathan's discarded sections she would watch him instead. He never commented on any of the stories, even with her beside him, but she could often discern his reaction from the look on his face. For a stoic man he was unusually expressive, but she wondered if that had something to do with how often she overloaded his sense of touch nowadays. Being unable to hide his reaction to that, maybe he just forgot to hide his reaction to other things.

Whatever the reason, it was fascinating to watch him scoff and marvel without saying a word. She learned new things about him every day, and she appreciated the invitation into his daily routine, even if it meant she slept less and had bigger and more consistent breakfasts than she ever had in her life.

It didn't hurt that it gave her an excuse to stare at him – to watch the adorable way his brow furrowed when he was surprised by something or the knowing smirk that appeared anytime he understood what the Teagues weren't really saying.

She'd never admit it, but she'd become fond of their morning routine. It gave her time to think about things that weren't related to the Troubles, such as the man sitting beside her. They'd approached their whole relationship in such a backwards way she was still learning things about him that she probably should have known a long time ago.

She was musing on that one morning when revelation struck.

"I just realized something!" she exclaimed, flush with a eureka moment.

"Hmmm?" he hummed from behind a wall of newsprint.

"We've never been on a date."

That caused him to lower the paper. "That can't be—"

But the idea was snowballing as her brain connected the dots, and she was certain she was right. "It's true. We've gone out undercover and dressed up to investigate, but that doesn't count. We were going to have a date the night I was abducted, but that never happened. Now we live together and have sex constantly - we even have a kid - but we've never been on an honest to goodness, dress up and meet me at seven date."

She watched him consider that, but the response he came up with was, "Huh." He was particularly fluent in monosyllable in the morning.

After nearly a minute he followed that with, "Wouldn't say constantly." He sounded part wry, part petulant, and she rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

"That wasn't the important part of my argument. We should be wining and dining each other. So we're going to start now. Tomorrow night. Dress up. You can pick me up in my cupcake room. Though make it six, not seven."

His lips twitched upward and she was finally certain she had his complete attention. "I'm apparently not very good at this, but aren't you supposed to ask someone if they want to go on a date with you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow?"

"Yep."

"Smartass," she said with a laugh, swiping his last piece of toast in retaliation.

She spent more time that afternoon researching potential dates than suspects, but by the end of the day she was proud of their itinerary, which she refused to share with Nathan. Friday dragged, and she kept waiting for a new case to swoop in and make leaving town that night impracticable, but for once Haven was atypically quiet.

She hadn't been up to buying a new outfit when the shopkeeper would probably call her a harlot and spread rumors of her sexcapades all across town, so she wore the blue dress Dave had picked out for her shortly after coming to Haven. She took the time to curl her hair like she used to and was still fussing with her makeup when Nathan rapped on the door.

She found him standing in his own hallway in a vest and shirt, clutching a bunch of blue flowers. His eyes raked over her appreciatively, and she smiled at how similar his outfit was to what he'd worn for his reunion. She'd found him particularly handsome that night, even if she hadn't worked up the nerve to tell him that.

There would be no more bashfulness over such matters. "Looking good, Wuornos."

"You look beautiful." The reverence in his tone made her blush. "These are for you," he said, handing her the flowers.

She'd tossed Chris's flowers out a window once, because she'd always thought buying someone flowers was a silly cliché and it was obvious he'd been trying too hard. But she had no urge to fling these anywhere. "You didn't have to…"

"Reminded me of your eyes," he said, and her heart swelled in an embarrassingly girly way. She hadn't expected today to actually feel like a first date.

"Thank you." She held them up to her face to give herself a few seconds to pull herself together. "We ought to get going."

"Are you finally going to tell me where, or do I never get to find out?"

In the past day she'd discovered he was very impatient about surprises, and she looked forward to using that to her advantage.

"I figured since most of the town hates us right now it'd be a relief to get away from gossiping eyes. I made us reservations at a little place in Derry called Fisherman's Cove. It's got great steak and seafood – at least according to the internet."

"I've heard of it. Supposed to be nice." For a moment he seemed pleased with the plan, and then something that looked almost like fear crossed his face. "You're not driving, are you?"

She swatted his shoulder. "Just for that, I should. But no, you can drive."

"I'm looking out for both of us. If I was in the car, how could I pull you out of it when you drive over a cliff?"

"Ha ha. That was one time. I'm a good driver."

She couldn't hold up under his incredulous look. "Fine. I'm an okay driver."

He still didn't seem convinced.

"You better watch it. I'll take your truck for a spin just to prove that I can handle it."

"I love you Parker, but don't you dare."

She laughed at his genuine concern. "Fine. I won't touch your precious truck. But if we don't get out of here we'll miss our reservation."

His hand lingered over her lower back as they walked to the Bronco, and although the gesture was unfamiliar she most decidedly didn't mind.

The Fisherman's Cove was bursting with coastal New England charm. When they stepped over the threshold Audrey felt like she had indeed walked into a fisherman's shack – albeit one that was large and extraordinarily well kept. There were nets draped across the graying walls and jars filled with seashells on every flat surface. She figured the candles flickering on each table had to be scented, because they were too far from the beach for the restaurant to smell so much like the ocean, otherwise. There was nothing subtle about the ambience, but Audrey found she didn't hate it. It was a tourist trap for the summer people, no doubt, but she'd grown used to that – Duke was more subtle about his decor but his livelihood also depended on these finicky visitors with the fat wallets.

Their waitress looked like she could have grown up in a house just like this one, but her smile was bright even though her hair was gray.

Audrey only needed one glance at the menu to decide what she wanted.

"You should get the scallops," Nathan recommended.

She scrunched her face. "I've never had scallops. Always thought they seemed slimy and gross."

"They're not. Best thing on the menu. I promise."

"Have you been here before?"

"Nope. But I know."

"I was going to get a lobster."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then get the scallops."

She wasn't sure about the seafood, but he was confident and she was sure about him, so she ordered the scallops. He did the same, but he also added a lobster tail to her order.

"Thought the scallops were the best thing on the menu," she teased after the waitress had left.

"They are. That was just in case you don't have the taste buds of a normal person. Can't have you going hungry."

"Or maybe you're just racking up the bill because I'm paying."

He looked stricken for a moment. "You don't have to."

"Yeah I do. I'm a modern woman, and I asked you out. Besides, I've recently come into a bit of money. I have one fewer bill to pay, you know."

She was such a girl, but his eyes seemed to twinkle. At least it wasn't his skin. "So that's the real reason you moved in with me."

"Yep. Don't have to pay rent now. You found me out. I'm a gold-digger." There was something so easy about their banter when everything else was unfamiliar – from their surroundings to the fact she was wearing a dress and had spent more than five minutes on her makeup.

"Well if you're paying, maybe I should get us another bottle of wine."

"Go for it."

But perhaps she didn't have total control over her tone. He considered her with brows slightly raised. "Are you nervous, Parker?"

"Maybe," she admitted.

"Why? It's just me."

"That's the problem." She exhaled loudly, but had to keep her hands away from her face so she wouldn't mess up her curls. At the station she could fiddle with her hair as she pleased.

"I'm not following."

She wished she could get up to pace. She felt vulnerable and exposed sitting across from him, but she knew he deserved an explanation. She'd had a crazy case of jitters all day, and she was afraid they stemmed from more than a fear that he wouldn't like her date planning skills. "You're important to me. You matter in a way Chris never did. If I had a bad date with anyone else I could just forget about it and move on. But there's no moving on from you. I know it doesn't really matter if we're good at small talk and silly clichés because we're awesome at solving crime and helping the Troubled – but I want to be good at those things too. Because you are."

She waited for him to rebuke or dismiss her. He did neither, but she couldn't get a read on what he was thinking, and that unsettled her even more.

"I seem to recall you telling me on multiple occasions that I have no game."

His reactions to Jess had been slightly mortifying at every turn, but she regretted teasing him about them now that she realized how tricky this relationship stuff was. "But you do with me. You're always taking care of me and doing nice things and telling me the flowers match my eyes."

"You've already given me the best gift—"

But maybe that was really what this freak-out was about, she realized with a sinking stomach. Was that all she brought to the table, really? Without her magic touch, would their relationship fall apart? "I want to do more than just touch you. You deserve so much more than that."

"That wasn't what I was going to say. The touching's great. But the gift is you've always accepted me, whether I could feel you or not. To everyone else I've always been a freak. You see me as a man."

"That's because you are!" She reached out to grab his hand and realized she'd just proved her own point. Physical comfort had become instinctive. She sighed deeply, dropping her eyes so she didn't have to look at him – but she didn't drop his hand. She was starting to think she needed his touch as much as he needed hers. She wasn't used to that sort of dependency. "I'm afraid I've fallen into a pattern. Every time you're upset all I can think to do is touch you. And I don't want it to become something manipulative. I just – it's so easy to reach out to you, and I like to watch how relieved you get and know that I've done that– but it shouldn't be the only reaction I'm capable of. I don't want to take advantage of you."

She felt him raise her chin gently, forcing her to look at him. "I don't mind. Really."

She jerked away, annoyed. "That's not the point! I don't want you to be okay with me taking advantage of you. I want to not do it."

He stared at her as if she'd stumped him. "You're not as bad at this as you think you are," he finally said.

He was so completely shocked by her outburst that she knew he shared none of her concerns. "I'm over thinking this, aren't I?"

"Yeah. Relax."

She drank more wine, and the food arrived, and that helped. He was right – as hard as it was to force herself to take the first bite, the scallops were delicious, and by the time she'd finished them off their appearance and texture didn't even bother her. She was nearly full, so she let Nathan help her with the lobster tail, which he consumed with surprising relish.

"I thought you didn't like lobster."

"I never said that," he denied.

"You shoot it down every time I suggest it."

"Growing up in Maine, it's nothing special. Still good though. But pancakes are better."

She didn't admit that she was starting to think he might be right.

Despite her resolution to find other ways to relate to him, the conversation had been going well and she couldn't help herself - she slipped her shoe off under the table and stretched her leg until she found his. His eyes widened for a moment, but he seemed to write it off as an accident until she began sliding her foot deliberately up his leg.

He jerked and she giggled. "Something wrong?" she asked innocently, feeling like a teenager again.

He swallowed, and she watched him pull himself together. "You always so frisky on a first date?" His voice was lower than normal, and it rippled through her.

"Only with men I'm already living with." She slid her foot even higher and his eyes closed.

"Seems fair."

She wanted to do this more often.

He insisted that they look at a dessert menu even though she was stuffed. Though she gravitated toward the chocolate tort she let him order a blueberry crumble to share, which turned out to be perfection.

"Pretty good date," he said after she paid the bill.

"The night is still young, my friend. That was only the first activity on our agenda."

"So where next?"

"The movies."

"Something you want to see?"

"No. We're going to sit in the back and make out. Isn't that what couples do?"

She could really get used to his smile—his dimples and his straight white teeth and the way it made him look young and free. "Good plan," he drawled.

Turns out it wasn't.

"You thought we could make out to this?" Nathan grumbled five minutes into the movie, when it was impossible to concentrate on anything besides the rapid gunfire emanating from the screen.

"I didn't really think about it. It was supposed to be good, and it started at a convenient time."

"This is like a really bad day at work."

"And we're not supposed to make out there," she teased, leaning close to drag her lips up his neck.

Until a warehouse exploded and he jerked at the sound.

"Yeah, not gonna work," she sighed, dropping her head to his shoulder. "What are these guys doing, anyway? They're never gonna catch him like that."

A loud "Shhhhhh," came from somewhere in front of them.

"They probably wish we were making out too," Nathan whispered, completely deadpan. But when she glanced at him he was almost smiling.

She'd gotten so much better at telling when he was joking.

They judged the partners' police work through the entire movie, keeping up a snarky running commentary that earned them the displeasure of everyone sitting near them. Though it wasn't what she'd planned, it wasn't such a bad way to spend two hours, with Nathan's arm around her shoulder and his voice in her ear.

They solved the crime half an hour before the protagonists and were feeling rather proud of themselves when they exited the theater arm in arm. He held the door of his truck open for her, and it was only once they were both situated that she realized she didn't know how to move them to the last part of their night.

She'd expected to come out of the movie hot and bothered, making segueing easy. In the absence of that, she contemplated a clever way to bring up her plan and nearly just blurted it out when he reached out his hand to lay it gently on her wrist.

"Can I show you something?"

"Sure," she answered without hesitation, willing to follow him anywhere. He looked a little nervous, and curiosity sparked within her at where he could be taking her in a strange town in the middle of the night.

He drove a few minutes before parking at the end of a quiet street. He helped her out of the truck and led her up an embankment. The beach looked just like Haven's shoreline, with the moonlight reflecting off the ocean as waves gently lapped the sand. The wind carried the scent of saltwater and hardy living.

"I ran away when I was fourteen. Hitchhiked. Ended up on this beach."

Nathan rarely spoke of his past, and she was touched that he'd chosen to open up to her without any prompting.

"Why?" she asked softly.

"Got in a fight with my father. Don't even remember why. I'd just had enough. Wanted to get away."

"What happened?"

"Took him seventeen hours to find me. I spent the night here. Figured I'd gotten away with it. Then the Chief showed up and I thought he'd be livid. But he was relieved."

"He loved you," Audrey said. "He was terrible at showing it, but I know he did."

"I believed it, that day. But the feeling didn't last. Soon as I got my truck, I used to come up here when I needed to get away from everything."

"Plenty of beaches in Haven. Why come all the way up here?"

"Thought I could hide and no one would notice. Turns out Dad probably had the local force keeping an eye out for me. But it felt like an escape."

She tried to imagine brooding, gawky, teenage Nathan, butting heads with his irascible father. But all she could do was relive the interactions she'd actually witnessed. She wished the two of them had been able to work out their differences. Wished she'd been able to hold the Chief together like she'd held James Garrick.

"Walk with me?" he asked, holding out his hand.

She nodded, a shy smile crossing her face. Ignoring the fact she was inappropriately dressed for such an excursion, she reached down to slip off her heels. Dangling them from her right hand, she clasped her left hand in his.

Audrey Parker had grown up in Ohio, and she'd never laid eyes on a beach until spring break. Maybe that's why Haven fascinated her. Aside from the weirdness and the company there was something about the place that called to her. A serenity to be found staring out at the water. Tonight the siren's call was particularly strong, the ocean smooth as glass. The tide was low, and Audrey pulled Nathan toward to water.

"That'll be cold," he warned.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, dropped his hand, and then stepped into the surf.

It was like standing in a vat of ice. She jumped back with a squeak.

"Told you," Nathan drawled.

She crossed her arms. "I didn't think you were an expert on temperature, considering."

She knew he actually appreciated how she didn't dance around his affliction, even if half the assumptions she made were wrong.

"Some things you don't forget."

She smirked, a wicked idea forming. Maybe he knew, intellectually, that the water would be cold, but it had been far too long since he'd felt it.

Abandoning her shoes a few feet from the water's edge, she inched back toward the waves and plunged her hands into the surf.

Clenching her teeth against the shock of the chill, she spun on her heels and advanced on Nathan.

"Parker," he said warningly, but he didn't catch on to what she was doing quick enough to deter her from grabbing his face and cradling it between her wet and frigid hands.

He emitted an unmanly shriek, and she laughed at the shock that crossed his features, but she didn't let go.

He brought his face closer to hers, and she thought he was going to kiss her to warm himself, but he hesitated when there were still a few centimeters of distance between their mouths.

"Think you're funny, do you?" he whispered, and then instead of kissing her he scooped her into his arms and started walking toward the water.

"Nathan, no," she shrieked, pounding on his chest and laughing through her exclamations. She was almost certain he was kidding, but she did not want him to dump her in that water.

"Don't you dare! If you drop me I swear we're never going on another date! Put me down."

"If you insist." The world seemed to drop out from under her and she waited for the cold to engulf her, hardly believing what had gotten into Nathan – until she felt his arms around her again and he retreated from the water's edge.

"Not funny, mister," she scolded, but he was grinning as he set her back on her feet.

"Turnabout's fair play, Parker."

She supposed she expected nothing less.

He grabbed one of her hands and rubbed it between his as they continued their walk. The warmth was appreciated, but it didn't fully stave off the cold, and she couldn't help but shiver. When he noticed he took off his jacket and moved to drape it around her shoulders.

"Nathan, don't," she said, stepping out of his grasp.

"Calm down. I'm pretty sure it's date etiquette that the guy is supposed to give the girl his jacket if she's cold. I'm just lucky because I won't even miss it."

He did have a point, so she allowed him to help her into it. The sleeves were comically long, but it was warm and it smelled like his cologne.

Strange that – she'd never known him to wear cologne before – but nice. She didn't really wear dresses either.

They walked in comfortable silence, content in the uncharacteristic peace of this place. She could understand why he would come here when he needed to get away. How many times had she stared out into the water in Haven hoping that it would clear her mind?

Sometimes she wondered how her life would have changed if she'd never seen the Colorado Kid photograph. Would Haven's allure have been enough to keep her there if she'd been drawn by a normal case? If they'd found a perfectly reasonable explanation for Jonas Lester's death, would the serenity of the coast and small town living have been enough to catch her?

What about the man beside her?

Probably not, if she was being honest. She'd been too driven, too caught up in the job to allow herself to get distracted by simple pleasures. She would have thought Nathan was handsome, but she wouldn't have stuck around long enough to learn that he was also loyal and kind, noble and generous, and just the right amount of tortured to understand her fear of intimacy and shaky social skills.

If there'd been a reasonable explanation, perhaps he wouldn't have been tortured at all. He might have been happily settled, and the point would have been moot anyway.

She should have preferred that, but she didn't.

"It's so beautiful," she told him when she could contain the sentiment no longer. There wasn't much beauty in their work; there had been less in the FBI. Now she most often saw beauty in the relief on his face whenever she touched him.

"It gets under your skin. When I left for college I didn't plan on coming back. But I missed it. City was too quiet."

She wasn't exactly sure where the University of Maine was, but she doubted it was a thriving metropolis. Even if it was, his statement made little sense. "I've never heard anyone call cities quiet."

"People were noisy. But you couldn't hear the world."

She supposed that was true enough. Nature hadn't shown her face much in Boston, but she was a constant settler in Haven.

After awhile they retraced their steps, but instead of returning to the Bronco he led her to a bench at the base of the dunes. He sat down and she curled into his side, pulling her legs up on the bench beside her. His arm came around her shoulder and she breathed him in, utterly content.

"We should do this more often," he murmured.

"Pretend to be normal?" she quipped.

"Yeah."

"Okay." It had been hours since she'd thought about the Troubles or the Guard, and the realization was liberating. "But the next date's on you. And I think I set the bar pretty high, so it better be good."

"Think I can manage that."

His other hand reached out to casually brush the sand from her bare leg. The warmth of his touch traveled upwards, coiling below her stomach.

She wondered if he could feel arousal, or if only his brain knew when he wanted her.

He seemed to know when she wanted him, at any rate, because his lips twitched into a half smirk and his hand began to stray a bit higher than the sand had reached.

"First time we sat on a beach you said you couldn't fix me – no one could. Mighty glad you were wrong."

Something ached inside her that he'd thought she was writing him off as hopeless when really she'd meant exactly the opposite. She was no good at this touchy-feely vulnerable stuff. Apparently when she tried she only made things worse. "That's not what I meant."

But she couldn't think straight with his hand on her leg. She wasn't sure she could articulate this even without the distraction. Needing to try, she grabbed his wandering hand and pried it gently away. Unwilling to lose the contact entirely, she laced their fingers together and dropped them to the bench. His fingers tightened around hers, and she wondering if it was more reflex than choice.

"I didn't mean that you'd never feel again." She hated the thought of this beautiful, sensitive man so closed off from the world. Had hated it even then. "What I was trying to say was you were the only one who could convince yourself that being Troubled didn't make you broken. Because that was never how I saw you."

He gaped at her, and she felt herself blush under his scrutiny.

"I mean…"

"I was broken," he interrupted. "Until you came and fixed me."

"No," she said vehemently, and she wasn't immediately sure why this bothered her so much until she verbalized it.

"You did."

"What if you couldn't feel me?" she asked, suddenly terrified by how this conversation might go. "What would that have changed between us?"

"Nothing," he swore without hesitation. Something inside her relaxed.

"Then it wasn't my immunity to the Troubles that fixed you. What changed when I came to town?"

He paused to consider his answer. His thumb stroked across her palm, the gentle contact strumming through her because she knew how important it was to him. "I had someone to talk to. Joke around with. You were this beautiful, intriguing bundle of sass and nerve. And the more I got to know you, the more I wanted to be the kind of man who deserved to be by your side."

She couldn't imagine him as anything less. But she'd seen his insecurity, and knew she wouldn't be able to disavow him of the notion. Not tonight anyway.

"So you fixed yourself to become that man. It wasn't about what I could do. It was about you and me."

She wondered if she'd ever get over the desperate need to be more than her identity crisis and the destiny that came with it. "Chris couldn't understand the distinction. He liked that I was immune to his charm – but only when it suited him. He needed me to feel normal, but he still wanted the power his Trouble gave him. I don't want to be valued for something I have no control over."

She was shocked to feel warmth building behind her eyes and she couldn't stop a tear from falling. Mortified, she hoped the moonlight would hide any sign of her weakness.

But he had more than perfect vision, and he was watching her closely. His hand reached up to cup her jaw, and one finger brushed away the tear, though he didn't otherwise acknowledge it. "I love you, Audrey," he said so earnestly it was impossible to suppose any falsehood in it. "Would even if I couldn't feel you."

She was going to have to let go of this insecurity, she decided, because it hurt him every time she questioned his motives. And it wasn't even that she doubted him, not really. It was life she didn't trust – that anything as good as his love for her could really be true. Because everything she believed in crumbled, eventually – her past and her future and who she was and even the belief that she was meant to help the Troubled. Except for him. Even that had gotten rocky for awhile, but he was here now, all adoration and guileless devotion – and what had she ever done to deserve him?

But God, she wanted him. And maybe she was no better than Chris, because she needed him too – needed his unwavering faith in her, his reassurances of her identity, his reliable advice and his good policework and even his touch, so reverently given. Those weeks she'd pushed him away she'd barely held herself together.

"I know. That's what makes the fact you can a gift instead of a dealbreaker."

He dropped his hand to her shoulder and tangled his fingers in a few of her curls. "Fate."

It seemed important to him, and with everything they'd learned about her past, she didn't have any reason to deny the theory. "Sure," she said with a shrug, settling back against him.

She could feel his breath warm against her neck, and he pressed a feather light kiss there before whispering in her ear, "Think I've found a flaw in this date."

It was hard to be coy when she wanted to feel his lips on her again, but she managed it. "Was it my choice in movies? Or my insecurity about this whole touching thing?"

"Nope. It's the fact that it's late and we're a long way from Haven, and all I want is a place to make love to you." His voice was thick and sweet like maple syrup, and she felt her knees quake from their place on the bench.

Good thing one or two of her former selves must have been a Girl Scout.

"There's a bed and breakfast down the road. I booked us a room and told them we'd get in late."

His dazzling smile promised that the night was only beginning. "Have I told you lately how brilliant you are?"

She grinned back. "You can never say that too often."

He rose and pulled her up the beach after him. "Brilliant. Beautiful. Though a bit presumptuous. It's only a first date, after all. What if I didn't put out?"

His tone and phrasing made her think of a finicky teenage girl, and she threw back her head and laughed. "You're a pretty easy mark, Wuornos. It was a safe bet I could win you over."

"That so?" he asked, his voice a smoldering dare, and none of Audrey's other relationships had ever been so effortlessly fulfilling. Despite everything going on in their lives, he made her happy.

"You'll see," she promised, and she took off up the dunes. But his longer legs and her restricting dress meant he soon gained the lead, and when he got tired of waiting he picked her up and kept on going. Her protests were only for show as she felt his pulse racing through his neck where her hands were clamped over it and watched his eyes shine down at her with unbridled admiration. She wanted to stay with him forever, just like this. Safe in his arms, they laughed all the way back to the Bronco.

No I won't give up
No I won't back down
Never ever gonna let you go
Now you pull me in and I feel so free
I wanna do to you what you do to me
Yeah you lift me up I never been so high
Now you're making me feel that I'm alive
No matter what I do, I always want more of you

More of You, Goo Goo Dolls

The plot returns next chapter with a vengeance. I'd love to get this finished before the new season starts, but that's looking a little unlikely unless I can get myself more motivated.

As always, I'd love to hear what you think.