A Note: I swear plot is going to happen in the next chapter…but you know…life. Life is in the way of my fanfiction. Why can't they pay me to write this stuff?

Sinclaire sportingly offered to help clean up, but Carol practically shoved her outside.

"You do enough keeping us all safe," she said. "You don't have to help with the chores too."

Sinclaire probably should have argued the point but she didn't. It probably wasn't for her own good anyway. The last time she'd done dishes she'd chipped two plates. Carol was probably just doing preventative maintenance.

She stepped out onto the back porch steps and looked around. The wind blew and she shivered. Most people had the good sense to stay inside…but not bowhunter. He was standing at the edge of the drop off, looking down toward the million dollar houses Merle was always talking about.

"What's with you guys and those houses?" Sinclaire asked when she walked up.

"Look," he answered as he pointed down. "There's smoke."

Sinclaire leaned forward in surprise. She felt him grab the back of her jacket.

"Relax," she said with a laugh. "This isn't kamikaze recon."

"Just makin' sure."

He didn't let go when she straightened and faced him.

"So what do you think it—" she started.

He ducked his head and kissed her again. This time was different. It wasn't rushed and after the first startled moment she felt her lips part under his. She supposed she should be floating in some dream-like state, the way it looked in the movies, but instead she was hyper-aware of everything that was happening. His hands moved from the back of her jacket to her hips and left all the skin in between tingling as though her many layers had disappeared.

He didn't pull back as quickly this time either; instead he withdrew slowly, leaving her breathless with several small kisses to follow the first one.

"I think there's another group down there," he said casually.

"Down where?"

She was glad the light was fading when she felt herself blush. He gave her a short smile and gestured at the million dollar houses. She cleared her throat and pushed herself away from him.

"Right. Do you think they know we're here?"

His smile faded into a worried frown.

"Hope not. Barely can feed the people we got."

"Maybe they'd have food."

"Or maybe they'd be crazy as fuck. Ya know some people have lost their shit by now."

Sinclaire remembered Metz.

"Yeah, I guess that's true. We should tell the others. So they know what to expect."

He glanced at the bar.

"Pretty dark in there now. We could always tell 'em in the mornin'."

"I guess so." Sinclaire looked down into the gated community. "Think they're safer than we are up here?"

"Nah," he said with the first sign of confidence she'd seen. "They ain't got me."

"I suppose that's true," she agreed.

They walked back to the truck and he slid the back door open for her. She crawled in and then cursed.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he followed her in.

"I meant to get the air mattresses and put them in here. Tiff distracted me."

"Ya'll seemed okay at dinner though."

"I apologized," Sinclaire admitted.

"No shit?"

"None. Well…I apologized for the "juice you like an orange" part. I left the rest to her imagination."

"Yer a good person," he said and she could hear a smile in his voice.

"This thing," she said bluntly. "The kisses…."

"Yeah?"

Now he sounded wary.

"I don't think I'm ready to have sex with you," she blurted out.

"Kinda used to hearin' that."

"But…I think that maybe I could if you gave me enough time."

"Really?"

It was too dark to see him, but he sounded shocked.

"So far you're the only man who's been able to kiss me without bringing up unpleasant memories. I'm thinking maybe you could…you know…do the rest too."

"I'd be happy to help," he said, making her laugh a little.

"I don't know how happy you might end up being. It might take a while. And…it would just be sex. I don't think I'm right for a relationship."

"Why not?"

"You're not going to get answers out of me that easily."

"Well, I only got one more question. Why not Merle? Ya'll get along better'n I've ever seen anybody get along with him."

Sinclaire lay back and stared blindly up at the roof of the truck.

"You really think he'd wait for me to get used to being touched?" she asked lightly.

"No."

"Exactly."

"So…ya want me to let ya make all the moves?" he asked awkwardly.

"No, not…exactly. I was thinking you can make the moves you want to make and stop when I start freaking out."

"I'd rather stop before ya freak out. Ya hit people when ya get stressed. And ya hit hard."

Sinclaire laughed and said, "Okay then. We should have a safe word."

"A safe word?" he repeated. "Like those people that get off on tyin' each other up?"

"Just like that. Except that if you tie me up you'd better make a clean getaway."

"So whatcha want?"

"Pineapple?" she suggested, feeling a little silly with relief at how well this was going.

"Pineapple?" he repeated. "Works as good as anything else I reckon."