Snowed In

Chapter 6

The pub was a lot nicer than he'd expected.

Castle stood at the bar counter, and glanced around, noticing that it seemed a popular gathering spot for locals. It was a welcoming place, with soft lighting and warm colors. The atmosphere was more akin to a British pub than an American bar, and he had to admit, he quite liked it. They even served fish and chips. In ways, it almost reminded him of a watering hole he used to go to back home in New York… the Old Haunt. He'd written one of his first novels there. And just like the Old Haunt, there was even a piano tucked into the corner. But right now, classic rock n' roll was playing over the sound system.

As he glanced about, he noticed that the walls were covered with framed photos depicting Strange Creek through the years (it was fascinating seeing main street develop through the decades), along with portraits of locals from the founding to the present day. He even spotted a black and white photo of the Hollister Bed & Breakfast from when it was just a private estate.

He stilled wondered about the town's name: Strange Creek. It was an interesting name for the town. And while it piqued his writer's curiosity, his mind was presently preoccupied with the impending meal with a gorgeous brunette.

"Bar or table or booth?" a pretty hostess with blonde curls asked.

"Three choices! Wow!" he chuckled, flashing the young woman a charming grin on reflex. "I… I'm waiting for someone. But… um… a booth would be nice, thanks."

The hostess smiled a dazzling smile, her green eyes clearly milking in his handsomeness—was that a word? She bobbed her chin and snatched up a laminated menu. "This way." She added a little bit of huskiness to that instruction which was a tad unnecessary.

As she led the way deeper into the pub, Castle felt the instant desire to glance down to admire the swing of her hips and the way the black slacks she wore hugged her shapely backside, but to his utter amazement, he also felt a rather strong need to resist such behavior. His thoughts immediately went to the morning, when Kate Beckett had caught him staring at her perfect ass while she'd been bent over a table, wiping down the surface with a washcloth. The guilt he'd felt then was at being caught looking.

Interesting how now and then his comportment was so very different

The hostess placed the menu down on a booth with green padded seats, and Castle nodded his thanks and scooted into the side facing the door. It was hard not to miss the little disappointed pout the hostess displayed as she stalked away, this time without a sway to those hips. He frowned himself, startled at his own peculiar behavior. Normally, he'd have flirted compulsively with such a pretty young woman, but he'd been too distracted by thoughts of Kate Beckett to do anything else.

Damn.

The woman already seemed to have some sort of hold over him. Something he'd never experienced before. No. No. That was wrong. He'd felt it once before. A lifetime ago. She'd left him. And he hadn't followed. Perhaps she'd wanted him to. But he hadn't.

That was in the past. And the present was Kate Beckett. Speaking of…

His eyes jerked up at the flash of movement from the entrance.

There she was.

Wow!

That was all he could think. He was stunned speechless, which for him was a rare event.

Kate Beckett possessed a natural beauty and grace. Her statuesque frame and slender physique were worthy of high fashion. Yet she looked just as extraordinary in common everyday clothing: A simple, but elegant—especially on her—lavender sweater worn over a white blouse, paired with dark jeans that highlighted her mile long legs. Her brunette tresses gleamed in the warm light with an almost auburn sheen.

To put it simply: She was stunning.

She quite literally took his breath away. And that was saying something. Castle knew his playboy image was exaggerated, yet he had always enjoyed the company of beautiful women. But… there was just something about this Kate Beckett that was different from all the rest. It would be easy to remain shallow, and focus entirely on her outward appearance, which was very, very lovely to look at, but from his brief encounters with her, Castle already got a strong sense of the intellect and strength beneath the skin. Her mind was intriguing.

And he wanted to know more.

For the first time in what felt like a long time, he actually wanted to know more about his date other than what she looked like without any clothes on.

XXX

Kate spotted him the second she walked in.

Her eyes were just drawn to him. It was startling, really, just how quickly she located him sitting in a booth, tucked into the back of the pub. Something akin to butterflies manifested inside her stomach, and Kate bit her lower lip, trying to muffle the sensation. She didn't understand it. Dating wasn't something foreign to her experience. Yet, to be brutally honest, as her best friend Lanie Parish was wont to do, it had been a while since her breakup with Tom. And dating another cop wasn't the same thing as dating a civilian.

Tom understood the interruptions and abrupt cancellations. He made an effort to work around her schedule, even bringing her Chinese takeout on a night when she'd had to cancel their dinner plans, which in retrospect was rather ironic, considering one of the reasons she broke up with him was because they had never found time to go out on an actual date.

Kate had liked him—a lot, and enjoyed his company greatly, but there was just something lacking in their relationship that she had known meant they couldn't last. The truth of the matter was he wanted more than she wanted or was willing to provide.

And now, she found herself approaching Richard freaking Castle, one of her favorite mystery authors, feeling those nerves one expected before an event that intuition told them was going to be a deeply profound moment in their life. She just wished she knew how. That troubled her, adding to her anxiety of not really knowing whether or not this was a date.

Her aunt Theresa seemed certain it was. While Uncle Herb had played along with his wife, he wasn't quite as sure. As for herself, Kate was conflicted over which she preferred.

She forced a smile, hoping it covered up just how nervous she was, when Castle stood up to greet her. His smile was more at ease, relaxed, and oozed with his natural charm. Yet, with her trained observational skills, she noticed the same nerves reflecting back at her from his dazzling blue eyes.

It was an observation she noted, quickly cataloging it away from later rumination.

"You look lovely," he said.

Kate felt her smile widen and her cheeks warm with a mild blush. "You're not too bad yourself," she replied before she could stop herself.

It wasn't a lie. He was still dressed in the same jeans and blue/gray plaid-patterned flannel shirt from this morning, but with an unbuttoned designer sports blazer that highlighted his broad shoulders.

Castle grinned back at her, appreciating the compliment. "Shall we?" he gestured towards the booth.

She nodded, and slid into the booth seat opposite the famous author. He picked up the laminated menu, explaining the hostess had only provided one even though he'd specified they'd be a party of two.

"That's just how they do it here," Kate explained.

"Oh," he seemed delighted by the local tidbit, as if such details helped to provide him with the truly authentic small-town experience. "So, what do you recommend?"

Kate couldn't help but let out a light laugh. "I'm not a local, so I couldn't say. But according to Uncle Herb, the fish and chips are the house specialty."

"Then fish and chips it is," Castle said with a smile, his eyes lighting up at they met hers.

There was a brief surge of sparks from that locked gaze, and Kate had to force herself to look away, least she got lost in it. Still grinning, Castle got up and went over to the bar, where he made their order, and returned with two bottles of a local microbrew.

"Strange Beer has an almost ominous ring to it, but I couldn't resist? That okay?"

"It's fine, yes, it's quite good, actually," she said, accepting the proffered bottle.

"You've had it before?"

She took a quick swig and hummed as she swallowed. "My last visit…" she answered, brows knitting together as she absently picked at the label with her fingernails. "Wow… that was two years ago." She shook her head. "I didn't realize."

"Heavy caseload?"

"Not always," she asserted. "But… I do tend to get tunnel vision when working a case."

Castle nodded, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. "It's more than a job then."

Kate hesitated before nodding, not sure how much she was willing or wanted to divulge this early in… in whatever this was. Thankfully, their food arrived before he could probe any further on that particular subject.

She watched as Castle squirted ketchup over his French Fries (sorry—chips) and just had to grin. Seeing the famous mystery author eat with his fingers was surprisingly humanizing, grounding him as a person compared to the playboy image she'd seen so often splashed across tabloids and gossip mags.

"So," he said, gulping down a mouthful of breaded fish. She was momentarily distracted by the way his tongue flicked out to clean his lips. "Tell me about some of these cases. Any good ones?"

Kate chewed on her lower lip as she thought of the perfect starting point.

"Actually, yes," she said, enjoying the way his brilliant blue eyes lit up with interest. "There was this one case where we found a young woman covered in roses, and sunflowers placed over her eyes."

"Whoa! No way!" he nearly choked on his food. "Some minor discrepancies there, but that sounds like—"

"Flowers For Your Grave," she nodded. "And we tied it to another mimicking the crime scene from Hell Hath No Fury, and then another from Death of a Prom Queen."

"Three of my lesser no works. Only hardcore Castle groupies even bother to read them." He cocked his head and stared at her.

Kate pursed her lips under his gaze, and stared right back. "Point is, someone was copying the murders in your books," she went on. "At one point, I thought about bringing you in for questioning, but my captain nixed the idea."

"Whoa! That would have been cool!" he exclaimed.

Kate blinked and just looked at him.

He took a swig of his beer, and then held up his hand. "I mean, not the people getting killed, but to help out, perhaps consult on the case. That would have been cool."

She shrugged, the 'what ifs' of such a scenario running through her mind. Kate wondered what they're first meeting would have been like under those circumstances.

"Wait!" he hooted in excitement. "I remembered something. A detective did come to see me after the Storm Fall launch party. Some guy named… McNulty, I think. Dull guy. Just asked me a few questions and left." He frowned. "I never did get any follow up to that."

"Yeah, he used to do some side work with my team," Kate said. "Put in for early retirement about a month or two after we wrapped up that case." His pout at having missed an opportunity to consult was quite amusing. She chuckled to herself as she nibbled on her fries.

"It's fascinating, isn't it? The pathways life takes," Castle ruminated out loud, eyes twinkling with mischievous wonder. Oh, he was totally bad for her. But she liked him anyways.

"I'd probably have thought you were a jackass, and hated you immediately," she hypothesized, suppressing a playful grin.

He laughed, and it was lovely, seeing how he just seemed to light up with mirth. "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure I'd have charmed my way into your good graces."

"More like weasel your way in," she retorted with a smirk.

Castle waggled his eyebrows. "Who knows, in another life I might have shadowed you, maybe…" his eyebrows drew together contemplatively, "maybe even written a book inspired by—"

"Me!?" Kate gasped, raising her eyebrows in alarm.

"What?" he questioned, cocking his head to the side as he gauged her reaction. "I thought a fan like you would be… flattered."

"Yeah, I… I would, I guess," she tentatively admitted. "But I don't know. I'm not all that…"

"Please, don't sell yourself short, Kate," he interrupted. "You're the complete package: Looks and brains. The perfect combo for the perfect character."

"Character? Huh?" she scowled. "Is that all I am to you, some character to put in your next book?"

"No, no, no," he quickly reassured. She narrowed her eyes, dubious. "Well… okay, maybe a little. But only partly. I've been in need of a muse."

"A muse? Me?"

"Why not?"

"Well, for one, you barely know me."

"Something we can easily rectify," he asserted with a wink.

Kate blushed at the implied suggestion. And, all right, she was flattered—a bit—with the idea that a famous author, who had notoriously been locked in a two-year bout of writer's block, would find inspiration in her, but she didn't know.

"I… still don't get it," she said, being honest. It didn't make sense. Sure, if they'd been in that other life, where Montgomery had let her bring Castle in to consult on the Tisdale murder, then perhaps…

"It's the story."

"Story?"

"Yes. You're story."

She shook her head, wanting to immediately shut down this avenue. "I don't have a story."

"Sure you do, we all do," Castle insisted. "Under normal circumstances, most smart, good-looking women become lawyers, not cops. And, yet, you became a homicide detective. Why?"

Feeling uneasy, Kate leaned back. "I don't know, Rick. You're the novelist. You tell me."

"Well, you're not bridge-and-tunnel—no trace of the boroughs when you talk, so that means Manhattan. That means money. You went to college. Probably a pretty good one. You had options. Yeah, you had lots of options. Better options. More socially acceptable options. And you still chose to become a cop. That tells me something happened. Not to you, you're wounded, but you're not that wounded. And it was someone you cared about. It was someone you loved. And you probably could have lived with that, but the person responsible was never caught."

Castle suddenly stopped, his eyes locked with hers, no doubt sensing the tears she was holding at bay. It was frightening just how close to the truth he was. She hoped he didn't, but his gaze was too perceptive not to notice. She worked her jaw, swallowed, and forced herself to speak past the lump forming in her throat.

"Cute trick," she said. "But don't think you know me."

He inclined in head, having the decency to look apologetic. "The point is, there's always a story," he reached out, shocking her when he took her hand in his, folding his fingers around hers. "And I want to know yours. If you'd let me."