Disclaimer: The only part of Castle that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.
He fesses up to speeding on the way back from Williams the previous day. Tells her about his encounter with Slim-'n'-Trim Sarge, who'd given him a big, fat ticket. What he doesn't mention is the love nest part: she doesn't need to hear that and he sure as hell isn't going to unload it. She's pissed off enough off as it is.
"What were you thinking, Castle?"
He's almost hypnotized as she yanks her hair with both hands, which makes it even sexier than it had been. Wild, stormy. He could tame it in an instant, wishes that he could, but she's expecting an answer. "Thinking? I was thinking about how much I wanted to get here to you. I felt terrible that I let time get away from me, that you were worried that something had happened."
"That's sweet, but not an acceptable excuse. You know, you were sticking out like a red thumb the minute you wheeled into town. Way before you decided to drive home like a lunatic."
"Sore thumb."
"Red thumb. As in the color of your car. Your Ferrari. People around here drive Ford pick-ups, Castle. Kia hatchbacks. Not billion-dollar Italian sports cars."
"For the record, it cost only—"
"Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don't want to know the sticker price. My point is, Sergeant Nelson was probably waiting to pounce on you if you went even five miles over the limit in your fancy-shmantzy car. I bet it made his day to be able to pull you over."
"Oh, I bet it did. He called me cattle, by the way. Mister Cattle."
That makes her laugh, dispels her irritation. "Did you tell him that was bull?"
"Nice, Beckett. No, I didn't. For starters, I didn't want to poke the bear. You could see how taken he is with his Smokey the Bear hat. I think he might starch it. Ditto his underwear."
That makes her laugh, too, enough that she agrees to go with him when he pays his ticket. While she's changing, he decides to text Jim, ashamed that he hadn't done so sooner. He's already been here for days and her father must be anxious for a report. No, wait, it hasn't been days. It hasn't been even two full days. It's only Tuesday? That's hard to believe. He's not quite ready to text, after all; he needs a moment, more than, to ruminate on everything that's happened since yesterday morning, when she found him sweeping up the coffee beans.
It's still very warm out, but he shivers. He and Kate have covered more ground in thirty-two hours than they had in three years. Shivering cedes to trembling: the thought of things to come is almost too much for him. His heart constricts with need for it, but he's learning to love the pleasures of anticipation. "Who'd have thought it?" he says aloud, startling himself. He's glad that he's outside and she's in, that she can't hear him. He doesn't want to explain. Not yet. Instead, he types out a quick message to his future father-in-law—what? Oh, God, her mind-reading sensor better be switched off.
"Hi, Jim. Things are fine here. Kate's making progress and I'm making sure that she eats three square meals a day. She's even agreed to go into Williams. Maybe she'll give me the guided tour. Hope your case is going well. Rick"
The reply is almost immediate. "Thanks, Rick. Happy to hear it. Do you need to get back to the city soon?"
Does he need to get back to the city? Wild horses couldn't drag him back to the city. A 730 horsepower engine couldn't drag him back to the city. Hmm. He looks at the text again. Like father, like daughter? Subtext there, subtext. Is Jim wondering if he can stay up here for a while to help Kate, and not leave on Friday as planned? He's not asking outright. Of course. For all the Becketts' directness, they can also be excruciatingly indirect.
"Not at all. Alexis is at college prep camp until mid August and I can write from anywhere." Not that he's doing any writing. Not when he can be hanging out with you-know-who. What he's doing now is mentally crossing his fingers that the other father in this text exchange is going to say that he can't get away this weekend and would Rick mind keeping his daughter company?
When Jim's next text arrives, Castle considers the possibility of genetically-encoded mind reading. "Would you mind keeping Katie company, as you put it the other night? This case is moving faster than I'd expected and I could really use the weekend to work on it."
"I'd be delighted, though I'm sure Kate will miss seeing you." It's all he can do not to add a dozen celebratory emojis at the end.
"Thank you. I'm relieved to know she's in such good hands."
Oh, don't think about that. Not hands. Not allowed to use his hands yet. Crossing the line. He's just clicked off the phone when he hears her approach.
"Castle? You ready?"
"You bet. Let's roll."
When they reach the car he goes to the passenger side and opens the door for her. "What's that?" she asks, pointing to her seat.
"Extra cushions. Figured you might want them. Bumpy road, even with the great shock absorbers."
"Thanks," she says, settling into the downy pillows.
He drives at a pace just above that of the average 90-year-old, and when they're almost there he asks, "So, where do I pay my ticket? Is there a town hall or something?"
"Ha, you wish. You have to go to the police station."
"Oh, shit."
"Maybe you'll get lucky and Nelson will be out."
"Do I have to make a plea?"
She snickers. "A plea? You mean like 'no contest'? Or in your case, 'guilty as all hell'? No, you just pay the fine and skedaddle."
"Always wanted to visit a place where people skedaddle, Kate."
"Shut up. And by the way, you just drove by it." She feels him start to turn the wheel. "No! Do not make a u-ey in the middle of Main Street."
He straightens the wheel in time and, spotting an empty parking space just ahead, pulls to the curb. When he cuts the engine, he turns to her. "Main Street? Really?"
"Really. If you turn left two blocks ahead you'll be on Hatchet Street. Don't ask. Now help me out of this damn car, please."
They walk back a hundred yards to the police station. To his visible relief, Sergeant Nelson is not on the premises. There's a downy-cheeked cop in the back of the room, apparently engrossed in paperwork, and a woman with improbably red hair who looks up from her desk when the door opens.
"Good afternoon," Castle says.
"Afternoon. Can I help you?"
"Yes. I'm here to pay my fine for, um, speeding. Yesterday. I have it right here. The ticket, I mean." He pulls it from his back pocket, a little embarrassed that it's so crumpled, and runs his palm over it in a futile attempt to flatten it.
By now the ersatz redhead—not that much more ersatz than his mother, now that he gets a better look—has come to the counter. She picks up the ticket and examines it as carefully if it were a death warrant. "Richard Cattle. Right. Guy with the Ferrari. Don't get a lot of those around here. Cash or credit card?"
That's it? No lecture? No warning on the perils of driving unsafely in their hamlet and its bucolic environs? Apparently not. "Credit. Might as well get the points, right?"
She glowers. "To go with the point on your license. Fine."
He'd rather have had the lecture he thinks, as he pushes his credit card across the scratched wooden counter top.
"Huh, American Express Centurion card? Don't get a lot of those around here, either. More like never."
"Right." What is he supposed to say? He looks at Kate, who is a model of impassivity.
Ms. Red returns his card, asks him to sign, and gives him a receipt. "Don't be a stranger, Mr. Cattle. We can use money like that around here." And with that she does a u-ey in her black, thick-soled sneakers and returns to her desk. He can just hear Kate making little strangled noises as they make their escape.
"Thanks for the moral support, Beckett," he says once they're clear of the building.
"I thought she was very reasonable."
"Didn't seem to know you."
"Nope."
"Well, aren't you the chatterbox. Care to accompany me to the far friendlier confines of the library?"
"I would," she says, and stuns him by slipping her hand in the crook of his elbow. He wisely makes no comment, but he misses the touch of her when she withdraws her hand as they turn up the path to the library.
Damn, the door's locked. The little sign says CLOSED, but the lights are still on, so he takes a chance and knocks. The librarian peeps out. "Rick!"
"Susanna! Hi!" He holds up the volume of Welty stories. "I just wanted to return this. Finished it this afternoon."
"Come in," she says, opening the door wide. "Katie. It's so good to see you up and about. You doing all right?"
"Coming along, thanks, Susanna. Slowly."
"That must be driving you nuts, then. Slowly has never been in your repertoire."
"You got that right," Castle says.
"Well, Rick. Looks like you availed yourself of the riches of Harry Meets Sally."
"You recognize the tee shirt?" He runs a palm proudly across his chest.
"Unmistakable."
"I got three! All different colors."
"Good choice."
"Are you fashionistas going to be having a long conversation?" Kate asks, deadpan. "If so, I'll just take a seat over here until you're done."
She's tired. Shit. He's worn her out. What an idiot. "Nope. I don't want to keep Susanna, and besides, we have to get going." He bows to the librarian. "Thank you for letting us in. And thank you for letting me borrow that fantastic book."
"Anytime. Come back again and I might give you your own card."
"That's an offer I will accept with glee."
"Night, you two," Susanna says as they make their way to the door. "Don't overdo it, Katie. And don't be a stranger, Rick."
"You're the second person who's said that to me today, Susanna. Maybe I should move here."
They walk slowly down the short path, and when they reach the end she digs her nails into his forearm. "What did you do to her, Castle?" she hisses. "She never lets anyone in after hours."
"Nothing. Just my charming self. I might have to show her my new underwear the next time I'm here." He pauses a beat. "Seriously, Kate. You look exhausted, and it's my fault. We shouldn't have walked this much. Let's get something to eat. Is there a diner or something?"
"Yeah, down there. About five blocks."
"Stay here, I'll get the car."
Five minutes later they're in a booth at the Williams Diner. "The chicken pot pie is fantastic," Kate says as they look over two menus that could well have been unchanged since 1987. "I have to go to the ladies room. Will you order for me, please, if someone comes?"
Just seconds after she's gone, the waitress, who looks at least five years younger than the menu, appears. "What can I get you?" she asks, her ribboned pony tail swinging against her sunburned neck.
"We'll have two chicken pot pies, please, and two coffees," Castle says, lifting his head to smile at her.
She freezes. "Richard Castle? Oh, my God, you're Richard Castle. I can't believe it. Oh, my God. You're like totally amazingly awesome. I've read Heat Wave like ten times. At least. More, maybe. Oh, my God, when my friend Christy finds out. I have to text her when I'm on my break. She will freak out. Oh, my God. I cannot believe I'm waiting on you."
"Thank you, uh. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"
"Maybeth. I'm Maybeth. I can't believe you're in Williams. I'll put your order in right now. Oh, my God."
"Thank you," he says, offering her his best—and unquestionably sincere—smile. "Ah, here's my friend."
"Maybeth? Is that you?" Kate gives the girl a hug. "You got your braces off. You look beautiful."
Maybeth's cheeks turn red as the checkerboard tablecloth. "Katie? You're here with him? I mean Richard Castle? Oh, my God, of course, because you're Ni—. I mean, uh."
"She's not really Nikki, Maybeth," Castle whispers. "We work together is all. She's a huge help to me in my writing."
"Right. Your writing. Right. I'll put your order in. Sorry."
Castle watches the girl's ponytail disappear through the swinging door to the kitchen. "Now that's skedaddling, Beckett."
"I can't believe she's so grown up."
"Grown up? She can't be more than sixteen."
"That's about right. I used to sit for her when she was a baby and a toddler. Yeah she's sixteen. Oh, you know what? This is funny. She's Maybeth Nelson."
"Nelson?" He leans across the table and says quietly but urgently, "As in Sergeant No-Doughnuts Nelson?"
"The very one. He's her Dad."
"Oh, God."
"Control yourself, Castle. She'll be back any minute."
She is, bearing a tray with their dinners which she manages to deliver without dropping or spilling anything, despite her being in Castle's thrall. "Enjoy your meal," she says.
Kate suppresses a giggle. "I thought she was going to curtsy to you."
"Eat your pot pie before it gets cold, Nikki."
Halfway through Kate begins to fade, the day having caught up with her. "Sorry," she says, yawning for the third time. "It's not the company, it's me."
"Let me get the check, and we'll go home."
"No, no. Finish. Besides, I don't want to deprive Maybeth of getting her fill of you. She's been keeping an eye on you through the kitchen window."
"Really?" He starts to turn around.
"Castle! Don't look! You'll embarrass her."
"Fine. I'm almost done. And you were right, it's fantastic." After he swallows the last forkful and wipes his mouth with a paper napkin, he does turn slightly in his seat, raising his hand.
Maybeth comes through the door like a rodeo cowboy on a bull, with something in her hand. When she reaches the table she thrusts a book and a pen at Castle. "Would you sign this, please?"
"You had a copy here?" he asks, truly taken aback.
"What? No! No, I ran home while you were eating. It's only a couple of blocks. It's my copy. See? You can tell I've read it a lot. I had to put like tape on the dust jacket in like two places where I accidentally tore it."
"Well, I'm very flattered, Maybeth. Thank you." He writes in the book and hands it back. "Do you have our check, please?"
"Oh! Sorry. Yes, right here. Thank you for coming in. Thank you so much. And Katie, too. Geez."
"Great to see you, Maybeth."
"You, too. Bye." She clutches the book to her chest and disappears again, but they can see her flipping open Heat Wave before she's through the door.
"Beckett, she's much too young to be reading that book. At least some of it."
"Hmm. What did you write in there?"
"Something that won't get her into trouble if her father sees it." He stands up. "Ready to go?"
"Yup." She slides out from behind the table and looks at the check that's next to his plate. "Is that a hundred-dollar bill you left for her?"
"It is." He can't help winking. "Don't you think the pies were worth it?"
"Definitely."
He keeps to the speed limit on the return trip, but doesn't dawdle. Kate had fallen asleep a mile out of town, and doesn't stir even when they hit the loose gravel of the driveway. He parks as close as possible to the cabin, gets out of the car, opens her door, and scoops her into his arms.
She wakes when he's climbing the short flight of stairs to the porch. "Castle?"
"Yeah?"
"What are you doing?"
"I'm taking you to bed."
"What?" She struggles as if to get down. "You can't do that."
"Stop it, Kate. You're exhausted and I'm carrying you to bed. Now hold on because I don't want to drop you while I unlock this door."
"Are you fucking crazy, Castle? Let me down."
"I may be crazy," he says, somehow managing to keep her in his arms while he maneuvers the key, "but I'm definitely not fucking. Not since January."
"Are you kidding?"
"Nope. Not since I broke up with Gina."
"Well," she says, burying her face in his blue tee shirt. "That's the best news I've heard in forever."
TBC
A/N Thank you for reading. Hope you're enjoying the weekend.