It was Michonne. He was convinced it was her, and perhaps it was a bit presumptuous to be so sure, but really, who else could it possibly be?
Though they had never met in person, he had heard whispers and tales about her—perhaps too many for his good. But what could he expect from the folks in King County? New faces were rare, and when someone new arrived, they quickly became the talk of the town, almost like a celebrity.
In the past six months, Michonne had become the center of attention in King County. Her arrival was marked by the unexpected inheritance of her late aunt's house, a situation made all the more intriguing by the fact that her aunt had two sons which stirred curiosity and whispers among the locals.
In the bright glow of the hardware store's fluorescent lights, she seemed to be the center of attention or at least his attention. Clad in a light green cardigan and relaxed beige khaki pants, complemented by durable rain boots, she radiated a distinctive allure. Her locs flowed gracefully down to her hips, enhancing her captivating appearance.
With her hand resting thoughtfully against her cheek, she gazed at the extensive array of kitchen faucets and pipes, a hint of confusion on her face.
He found himself wanting to muster the bravery to approach her and make a proper introduction, yet a familiar wave of nervousness washed over him, reminiscent of his teenage years.
He didn't understand why he felt nervous. He had talked to her on the phone a few times, though the conversations were short and sweet. It was quite funny.
A mutual friend had attempted to arrange a date for the two of them; they had planned to get together three separate times. The first fell through when Rick had to back out after Judy fell ill unexpectedly. The second attempt was by Michonne, who chose not to share her reasons for cancelling but expressed her deep regret profusely apologizing. By the time the third opportunity rolled around, they both sensed that the moment just wasn't right.
The last time he had seen Maggie, ever the matchmaker, urged Rick to give it another shot. "You never know," she said with a hopeful smile. But Rick shook his head, a hint of resignation in his eyes. He had a nagging feeling that maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Blind dates weren't exactly his cup of tea, and with each passing year, he felt less inclined to let others orchestrate his love life.
Yet, as he looked at her, a wave of regret washed over him for not seizing the chance to try one last time.
She turned to him, her voice echoing the familiar tone he had heard before, yet sharper and more defined. "Do you know anything about kitchen pipes?" she asked, a hint of embarrassment colouring her laughter that followed the question.
"That depends on what the problem is," he replied, his southern drawl wrapping around each word.
She took a good look at him, clearly taken aback. "Have we met before?" she asked.
"No, but we have talked on the phone," Rick said, his lips curling into a grin.
Her expression brightened with recognition. "Ah, so it's you! I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but that voice of yours is hard to forget."
"Is that right?" he replied, his gaze lingering on her features.
" Well, when a guy cancels on you twice without ever seeing you, it's hard not to remember," she teased
"Technically, I only cancelled once, and the last time was a mutual decision," he countered.
"I guess so," She smiled softly, their eyes intertwining in a lingering moment.
"What's going on with your kitchen?" Rick asked, pulling them both back from the spell of their shared glance.
'A leak in my pipes for almost two weeks now. I've been using a bucket to catch the water, which worked well—until today, that is," she admitted with a cheeky grin.
"You learned the hard way?" he asked
She just nodded, feeling a bit sheepish. Since moving to King County, owning a house had truly opened her up to the joys of gardening, and she had completely fallen for it. It was the first time in ages that she had a front lawn, let alone a spacious piece of land where she could do whatever she wanted.
For the last few months, the garden had been all she had put her energy into. She had forgotten just how old the home was. When she first decided to move into the home, she had all these ideas about renovating, but all of that took a backseat.
"I would probably need to see the leak first before I recommend anything," Rick said
Wow, already looking to get into my house before you even take me out to dinner?" she teased, playfully clutching invisible pearls.
"Well, you did ask for my help, so it seems like you're the one trying to lure me in," he shot back.
Her eyebrows lifted slightly as a mischievous smile danced on her lips. He felt her gaze sweep over him, assessing him as if she were gauging whether he would crack under the pressure.
"Do you want me to come over and take a look?" he asked, interrupting her playful scrutiny.
" I don't want to take up your time, I'm sure I could figure it out" she responded
"I've got time," he said, a grin spreading across his face.
…
He sprawled on the kitchen floor, his eyes fixed on the cabinet, searching for something hidden. The rhythmic sound of water dripping into the bucket echoed in the silence as she watched him squirm beneath the sink, lost in a daze as she sat on top of the kitchen island. She fought the urge to look away, attempting to focus on the ceiling, but his presence felt like a magnet, pulling her gaze deeper into the moment.
He had trailed her in his white pickup, following her back to her place. A strange sensation washed over her at his offer of help, but she reassured herself that this was the norm in small towns—people lending a hand. Without hesitation, she ushered him into the kitchen, a wave of embarrassment crashing over her as she took in the state of the space.
It had been six months since she moved in, yet she still felt like a stranger in her own home. She was caught in a state of uncertainty, surrounded by her aunt's old possessions, mixed with the few things she had managed to pull from her storage unit.
She observed him in his black jeans his legs spreading as he delved deeper into the task. The idea of straddling him on the cool kitchen floor flickered through her mind. She quickly shook off the thought as Rick emerged from beneath the sink.
He assured her it was a simple repair, just a matter of reconnecting the P trap. When she inquired about tools, he merely shook his head. He urged her to pay attention just in case she ever had to do it herself, squatting next to the cabinet of the kitchen sink.
He guided her through the process, detailing each step, but his words faded into the background as she observed his powerful, veiny hands gripping the pipe, knuckles turning pale as he effortlessly took apart the pipe. When he finally finished, she realized she hadn't absorbed a word he had uttered.
"Thank you, I owe you one," she says, trying to slow down her breathing
"It's all good, the first one's on the house," he quipped, now relaxed, running his fingers through his hair.
She manages to speak, her thoughts scattered, and her gaze catches the beads of water clinging to his white shirt.
"Yeah, thanks," she says, her eyes locked on to his chest, which Rick catches
"…Yeah, you already said that," he smirks
As she raises her gaze to meet his intense blue eyes, a wave of heat washes over her. It's almost humiliating to feel this flustered at her big age.
He steps nearer, his voice low and concerned. "You alright?" he inquires, closing the distance between them.
She tilts her head slightly, acutely aware of her deep breaths echoing in the silence, knowing he can feel every strained exhale. He picks up on her emotions instantly, and without a moment's pause, his breathing begins to align with hers. Their gazes lock, a swirl of confusion evident; he takes a moment to study her, his expression clearly asking, "Wait, are we really about to do this?". She gives the slightest nod, her eyes heavy
Rick slides his hand between her knees, gently nudging them apart as he draws near her, his hips pressing against the contours of Michonne's thighs. The atmosphere is thick with tension, their breaths intertwining, warm and urgent against each other's skin.
As Rick leans in, aiming for her lips, Michonne instinctively recoils for a brief second, her thoughts racing. Is she really about to kiss a man she barely knows, right here in her kitchen?
Despite her better judgment, she leans in, her lips desperately seeking his soft kiss. His hands immediately cradle her face, eagerly pulling her closer to him and deepening the kiss. A soft moan escapes her and she feels him smile against her lips for an instant. Despite her racing thoughts telling her to slow down as his tongue seeks hers, she allows it. Her hands grasp the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, lost in the heat of it.