Chapter 4

Castle perused the bar. "A craft beer, please," he requested, wondering if his gamble would pay off. The barman provided it, and Castle took his beer to an out-of-the-way table as far away from Beckett's corner as he could manage.

For a full ten minutes, he placidly drank his beer, thought about Nikki Two, and noted with considerable, but well-concealed, interest that Beckett was sneaking glances at him, with an air of confusion. He forced himself not to give the slightest hint that he'd noticed, or even that he knew she was still in the bar.

"Okay." She suddenly appeared at his table. "You couldn't possibly know I'd be here."

Castle supposed that was as close as Beckett was likely to come to an apology. "No," he said equably. Beckett sat down, with her own beer. He cheered internally. "Why are you out this way?"

"I'm on a trail ride," she admitted.

"Nice. I haven't been riding for a while." He hadn't ridden. He'd been ridden. "Gina and Paula keep pushing PR on me, so when I've escaped them I want to see Alexis." He pouted. "She's on a sleepover and Mother is trying to inhabit a new role." His pout turned to a fond, but wry, smile. "I really can't deal with fifty thousand variations of accent and phrasing."

As he burbled about his mother's acting, and Alexis, and indeed anything that had no relation at all to flirting, dating, or attraction, he realised that Beckett was relaxing. "Do you want another drink?" he asked.

"No, thanks. I'd better get some dinner. I'm wiped – the hostel last night lost my reservation."

"What? What did you do?"

"I slept in the stable with my horse."

Castle had the thoroughly unusual experience (while human) of seeing Beckett's face exhibit affectionate delight.

"He's a wonderful horse," she enthused, "so I want to be well-rested tonight for another long ride tomorrow." She paused. "You could join me at dinner?"

Rather than pouncing on the question, Castle raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

Beckett's sharp cheekbones coloured slightly. "Yes. Company might stop me falling asleep in my soup."

"That tired?" Castle queried, in lieu of his first thought of I could keep you awake.

"Yep. Straw isn't uncomfy, but I'd prefer a proper bed tonight."

Castle bit his tongue on I'd prefer your proper bed too. Beckett stared at him. "What?" he asked.

"You didn't make a salacious comment. Are you sick?"

"Say salacious some more, pleeeasse?"

"Nope."

"Awww."

"Stop pouting. You're not six any more."

"According to you, I'm a nine-year-old on a sugar rush," Castle said mischievously. "But I can assure you that I'm all grown up."

Beckett blew a raspberry at him.

"Now who's six?" Castle teased, delighted that Beckett had relaxed into the ease with him that had been missing since he'd looked into her mother's case. "I don't blow raspberries at you." Again, he didn't continue with I could blow kisses at you, though, although his eyes crinkled and a smile insinuated itself on to his lips. Another tiny line of colour decorated Beckett's face.

"Dinner time," she briskly evaded the conversation. "You coming, Castle?"

To which the truthful answer would have been not yet, but I hope you and I both will. Still, he couldn't resist – "After you." She growled, but didn't revoke her invitation to him to join her at dinner. He sauntered along beside her, smirking.

The dining room was simple: Shaker-style wooden tables and chairs. The menu was also simple: burgers, pizza, pasta; brownies or ice-cream for dessert. Castle was perfectly happy with that. He liked good food and good cooking, sure, but he also liked simple, easy meals. He sat down opposite Beckett, and smiled happily. "I like this," he said.

"Looks good." Beckett was ravenous, and ordered accordingly. Mozzarella sticks arrived, along with a fully loaded burger with enough fries to bridge the Hudson twice over. Castle's cheeseburger and fries looked positively pathetically rationed in comparison. "It's a long time since lunch," she said, and scarfed down half the mozzarella sticks without a pause. "The place I stopped had pretty much the same menu, but riding's hard work." She grinned. "I haven't gotten to gallop in years."

"How long have you been riding?"

"Since I was six. Mom" – she swallowed – "took me one summer, and I loved it. I had a break while I was in school, but then I started again when I joined the NYPD."

"You didn't want to join the mounted division?"

"Nope. I wanted Homicide." Her face twisted. "And I didn't want to mix work with a way to relax."

Castle hummed sympathetically around his burger. He wanted to take her hand, but with astonishing self-control, didn't touch her. "Do you ride a lot?"

"As often as I can. Depends on work, really."

"What are you riding?"

"A horse. What did you expect, an elephant?"

"Might be interesting. I'd love to ride an elephant."

"I'll stick to horses."

"What's your horse like? You said he was wonderful."

Beckett expounded on the gorgeousness of her horse in between every bite of her dinner. Castle listened, enthralled by this enthusiastic, happy Beckett. Of course, it didn't hurt that she was, unknowingly, complimenting him. According to Beckett, the horse was beautiful, strong, powerful, responsive…the list of good qualities stretched all the way back to Manhattan. Castle couldn't believe that Beckett, cool, calm, sardonic, cynical Beckett – could be so utterly – in love. She was absolutely in love with the horse. He found that to be rather hopeful; after all, he was the horse.

Beckett had been shocked out of her riding boots when Castle walked in, and reacted badly. You were rude and nasty, the worm chided. Some actual thought later, she realised that he couldn't possibly have followed her, and scraped together a sort-of-if-she-squinted apology. You could have done that better, the worm said. I've heard better apologies from cockroaches. They don't speak. Their antennae wiggle. Anyway, that's not the point. You could have apologised better. Shut up. Just sayin'. Shut. Up.

Amazingly, Castle seemed to have dropped the infuriating salaciousness in favour of mature conversation, though admittedly Beckett could praise Doinnean for a week without pausing. He was actually good company, now he'd dropped the cringy flirtation. She relaxed, and continued answering questions about her horse, while eating her dinner. She'd never been so content with Castle's company. Sadly, her dinner was almost done.

"Do you want to get coffee?" she asked him. Castle's astonished expression was almost worth an entrance fee.

"Yes!" he said, delighted. "Of course – but isn't that my line? I get you coffee."

"It must be my turn to ask by now, then." Now that's a better sort of apology, or at least a step to being nicer. Shut up. Nobody asked for your input.

"But I like bringing you coffee," he said soulfully. "It makes you happy. Just like riding your horse makes you happy."

Beckett rolled her eyes, and then caught the server's eye. "Two coffees, please, and creamer."

"Sure, ma'am."

Shortly, the server brought the coffee. Beckett doctored hers with a large dash of creamer, and then buried her nose in the mug, which rapidly became empty. The server refilled it.

"Good coffee," she declared. Castle, she noted, hadn't taken more than a sip.

"You obviously needed it." He grinned. "How do you not die of caffeine poisoning?"

"Desensitisation," she flipped back. "Like small doses of arsenic."

"Ooooh, classic crime. I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Beckett elevated her eyebrows, which generally reduced even the bravest person to quivering terror. "That's the reason you" – she made air quotes – "'like me'? Funny how you never tried that when you were producing the lamest, most prehistoric chat-up lines I've ever heard. 'You have gorgeous eyes'? That's pathetic."

Castle grinned. "They were lame lines, weren't they? But you still remember them." Grin turned to smirk. "So it worked."

"Worked to annoy me, you mean."

"Aww. You like being annoyed at me. It keeps you sharper."

That wasn't the word Beckett had expected. She'd expected the last word to be interested. Or possibly hot. But he hadn't gone there. In fact, he hadn't flirted at all, all evening. He hadn't even forced his presence on her: he'd waited till she invited him to join her. Hmmm. Wasn't he interested? I wouldn't blame him if he wasn't. You haven't exactly encouraged him – anyway, I thought you said you weren't interested. Rethinking that? Shut up.

"I'm plenty sharp already." She hadn't meant to say that: it made her sound like a stiletto dagger.

"Not Kate, but katana?"

"You what now?"

"Japanese samurai sword."

"I know that. I'm not dumb."

"The best ones can cut a silk scarf floating down on the blade. They purify the steel by folding and tempering many times over, then they forge the steel. They're supposed to be the best blades ever." He paused. "So should I call you Katana?"

"No!"

"Awww. Though I guess a sword couldn't ride a horse. I mean, it could, but only on the hip of a human rider. Even then it would need a scabbard so the horse wasn't hurt…"

He trailed off at her glare.

"I. Am. Not. A. Sword. Not of any type."

"Okay. Like I said, that's good for your horse."

Beckett's glower softened. "Yeah. I'd never want him to be hurt." She yawned enormously, and coloured. "Guess I'd better get some sleep." She tipped down her refill of coffee – no matter how tired she was, she wouldn't leave her coffee unfinished – and smiled. "Night."

"Till tomorrow – I mean, if I see you at breakfast. Otherwise, till Monday in the precinct." Castle smiled back at her.

Beckett thought about that smile all the way to her room – a mere few yards and a staircase away – and all the way through her bedtime routine, and all the way into bed. For possibly the first time ever, that had been a plain, genuine smile. Not a smirk, not containing a hint of leer, salaciousness, or ogle-ness, not a knowing grin…simply a real smile.

It had knocked her socks off.

See? There's a genuine person under all that playboy shell. Maybe. Not maybe, dumbass. There is. Whatever.

Beckett snuggled down into the comfortable bed and pillows, and drifted into delightful dreams of riding her beautiful horse, accompanied by Castle on an equally beautiful horse. Of course, they raced, but she (of course: it was her dream) won. She woke up profoundly satisfied with the world.

Satisfaction was mildly dented when Castle didn't appear at breakfast time, but then Castle was not a morning person – he was never early to the precinct unless there was a new body or interrogation – so she wasn't surprised. The mild dent in her satisfaction didn't stop her making an exceedingly good breakfast.

Once she'd checked out, she swung off to the stable, where she found Doinnean munching happily on some hay. He whuffled in greeting, and she petted his nose. "Ready to ride?" she asked. He whinnied, and essayed a little prance in the stall. "Guess so. Out you come and we'll saddle up."

At the end of another day of perfect riding, Beckett reined up at her usual stables, and dismounted, hugging Doinnean's neck and then leading him to his stall.

"Good day t' ye," the stable hand said, popping up out of nowhere. Beckett jumped.

"Oh, hey."

"Enjoy yer ridin'?"

"Yes. He's a great horse." Beckett paused. "Can I take him out again next weekend for another trail ride?"

"Oi'll check, but oi don't t'ink t'ere's anyone else who's wantin' him. Wait a minute, now." He disappeared, returning a few moments later, by which time Beckett had unsaddled the stallion and started to groom him. "No, no-one wants him next weekend – not yet, anyway."

"Can I have him?"

"Aye. Fill in t'is form here, an' oi'll make sure he's here for ye."

Beckett filled in the form in perfectly neat block capitals, then scrawled her slashing signature across the bottom. "There you are. Thanks."

"Sure, it's no trouble at all. He suits you perfectly."

Beckett finished a thorough grooming, hoof check, and curry-combing, and floated out of the stables on a cloud of delight. She'd had a great weekend, and next weekend would be just as good.

Behind her, the stable lad became a spriggan, and regarded the horse bleakly. "She won't be happy wit' ye."

"So you keep saying," the puca pointed out. "It's working. I showed up in the hostel and we had a nice, civilised time. It worked brilliantly. She was actually nice to me." He neighed. "So you won't let any hints drop, will you?"

"No." The spriggan slunk off, becoming the stable lad as he went. Castle waited a few moments, to be sure Beckett wouldn't return, then returned to his human form, dressed, and departed for home.

By Friday, Beckett was completely confused. Castle had barely flirted, by his standards. He'd brought coffee with a smile, but irritating (you mean enjoyable) suggestiveness had been entirely missing, replaced by amusingly light conversation covering a large range of subjects, some of which actually had relevance to the murders they were investigating – and solving, naturally. Beckett and her team solved cases; they didn't shunt them off to cold case racks.

She couldn't decide if she approved of this new, suave, smooth and civilised Castle. Of course it was great not to have to deal with his constant undercurrent of obvious desire (you don't mean that), but it was, well, disconcerting. Surely he hadn't gotten bored with her?

"Till Monday, Beckett."

Oh. Castle was already leaving.

"Night," she said, with a tiny hint of wistfulness in her voice, and turned to her papers, trying not to feel a little disappointed that he'd already gone. She remembered that she'd be on her way to the stables in less than half an hour, and cheered up.

Still, if he hadn't left so fast, before she'd had a chance to talk to him, she'd have told him that she was going trail riding again, and she'd have let him know where she was stopping tonight and Saturday night…and maybe they could have had dinner again.

Oh. Oh, Kate, think. Just text him the hostels. But then I'd be disappointed if he didn't show. He'd tell her if he couldn't, though.

She snatched up her phone, texted rapidly, and pressed send before she could second-guess herself out of it. And then she put her whole mind into the paperwork so she didn't think about what she'd just done for a single solitary second, because if she did she'd send another text saying I didn't mean it and she'd spoil everything.

Good plan. Not spoiling things, I mean. Shut up, worm. She squished the worm under a horse's hoof. Sadly, it un-squished and wiggled off.

Beckett switched off and packed up, not willing to lose a single moment of her weekend. In short order, she was home.

Castle, hurrying to be safely at the stables long before Beckett could arrive there, almost ignored the cheep of a message arriving, but took a moment to extract his phone from his pants pocket and check the notification. As soon as he saw it was from Beckett, he opened it, read it in a flash, and almost fell over. She'd told him which hostels she'd be staying in.

She was inviting him to meet her. Wow wow wow. It was working.

"So, spriggan, here are the hostels we're staying at." Half an hour later, Castle had found his way to the stables, well in advance of Beckett.

"Aye, sure. Yer clothes'll be t'ere before ye are." The spriggan started to leave, then whipped around. "How did ye get that?"

"Beckett sent me it," Castle said smugly.

"She what?"

"Sent me it."

"By the auld sod, how did ye manage that?"

"I…changed a little. Tried a bit of adult charm; not playboy smarm."

"Ah. Ye're wooin' her. 'Bout time."

"Speaking of time…" Castle swiftly disrobed and became the stallion. The spriggan tidied his clothes into a small tote, at which Castle winced. He spent enough on his apparel that he didn't like seeing it treated so cavalierly. It was sure to be horribly crumpled when he recovered it, and he had a reputation as a well-dressed man to maintain.

Just as the last sock disappeared, Beckett swung into the stables and came straight to his stall. "Hey," she said gently, eyes soft. "Ready to go out again?" He whuffled, and nuzzled at her hair. "I've an apple for you." She grinned. "You'll get it when we stop for the night. The faster you gallop, the sooner it's in your mouth." She brandished a ziplock bag full of apple slices.

Castle-as-stallion pricked up his ears, and pranced a little. "Out you come," Beckett suggested. "I guess you like apples."

I do, that's why it's my safe word. He had a hard time not answering her. While trail riding with Beckett was wonderful, it would be even better if she knew who the horse was. Still, he'd have dinner with her tonight, and tomorrow night, and that was several million times better than he'd have imagined less than two weeks ago.

Beckett mounted with ease and revelled in Doinnean's smooth, strong responsiveness. "Here's the route and lodgings," she said to the stable hand. "If it's anything like last week, there won't be any problems." She patted Doinnean's ebony neck. "See you Sunday evening."

"Aye, Missus."

"Call me Kate," Beckett said. "As long as Doinnean's here, you'll be seeing a lot of me." She grinned. "Just don't do anything I have to arrest you for."

"Sure, an' Oi won't." The stable hand grinned back. "Oi'm Fergal."

"Related to Oisin at the Left Hand Bend hostel?"

"He's me cousin."

"I'll give him your regards."

"T'anks."

Beckett turned Doinnean with the lightest pressure of her knee, and walked out on to the trail.

Two hours later, in which Doinnean hadn't dropped below a gallop for more than a moment, they reined up at the first hostel.

"Apples," Beckett announced.

"Ye – whffffffft."

She regarded Doinnean strangely. "That's an odd noise." She shook her head. "Are you okay?" The horse whinnied, then neighed, pushing his head towards the pocket where the apple slices were. "I see," she laughed. "You want your apples."

I want you, Castle thought. Maybe sometime soon you'll want me – and not as a horse.

The stallion lipped hopefully at Beckett's hand even before she'd extricated the bag of apple slices. She giggled. "That tickles. Stop it."

I'm kissing your hand, Castle thought, but stopped.

Beckett shook a handful of apple pieces into her palm, and held them out. Doinnean hoovered them up as if he'd never eaten an apple in his life, and nudged her pleadingly. "Nope. No more, or there won't be any for tomorrow. Now come and I'll groom you, and then I can get my dinner." Her eyes unfocused for an instant, as if she were thinking, and then met the horse's. "C'mon. This stall here, and tonight I won't be sleeping in it."

Doinnean walked smoothly into his stall and submitted to a thorough grooming. Beckett, however, had to force herself to concentrate. She hadn't checked her phone since she'd gotten on Doinnean, but at that point there'd been no reply from Castle, and she hadn't felt the phone buzz. She guessed he wouldn't show up, and tried to ignore the acid sting of disappointment.

Checked in – the receptionist had cringed when Beckett entered, and her room proved to be the best in the hostel – showered and changed; Beckett went, a little miserably, down to dinner.

Thank you to all readers and reviewers.