DIANA

Instead of giving Terry the silver ring with the small, golden snaffle bit as a joyous seal of how completely willing I was to be his, I held it out in trepidation. I knew he wouldn’t take it. Not now. If he was set on leaving, it would only be a reminder of what might have been and the woman who wasn't confident enough to take the best thing that had or would ever happen to her. I wasn't even sure he would stay with me long enough to hear my pathetic excuses for my actions that night - reasons, in my mind - excuses in his. Too little and too fucking late.

I held the ring out to him for long minutes crying all the while; he simply looked at the ring; he couldn't seem to stand looking at me. I had rarely cried where Terry could see me in the time he and I have been together. I couldn't stop crying now. Since he was leaving, it really didn't matter. I cried out of fear, for the loss of his love, but most importantly, for having hurt him.

“When did you get that?” His voice was as lifeless as his eyes. He still had his legs folded in front of him like a fort, physically holding me away without really having to acknowledge my existence. My knees were killing me; my arm holding the ring out to him was starting to shake, but I wasn’t about to move until he let down some of his defenses. I didn't expect him to take me in any time in the near future, and even if he did, it only had to be a little. I would settle for a little relaxation under my hand where it still rested on his arm.

“The night you think I threw you out.” He stretched his left leg out; it had to be talking to him. I had such mixed emotions about suggesting we get more comfortable. If he moved at all, he might start cleaning out the closet. I scrambled to the couch to get some pillows to take the strain off his leg. I stayed low and between him and the door to the bedroom; I could tackle him, if necessary, before he got out of the room if he moved before I got back to him.

“Thanks.” We went back to our uncomfortable silence. I rested my ring-holding hand on his knee, my hand open so he could see what was in it and take it if he was willing to forgive me.

This had become a battle of wills. Terry would have to reject my offering before I would move, and then there was nothing left to say. Or he could accept it, and the rest of the day and night we had free would be filled with my apologies and many words - mostly on my part - explaining and begging. Terry's face was a mask, and he had half dropped his head so I couldn’t easily read his eyes. He was treating me more coldly than he would a stranger on the street.

“Terry, about that night. I had so many things to think about. You still weren't 100%. I didn't want to disturb your rest. I knew if I was up, you’d be getting up to check on me. I knew I couldn't do the deep soul searching I needed if you were around. No, wait …I’ve already screwed us up enough by not saying everything I needed to say, and that didn't come out right. What I meant was I had to find the specific reasons to say yes to you. That's not right either. I had to be sure I had all the right reasons; I didn't want to let you down later because I hadn't taken the time to be thorough and concise. I wanted to ….” My nose had finally plugged up from all my crying. “Just ignore the crying.

“I wanted to be sure I had enough to give you. I can't focus when you're around, Terry, even if you’re in another room, because you make me believe anything is possible. Does any of my reasoning make any sense to you?”

His grunt in response was the most I could hope for right now.

He moved his hand from the hearth to rest on his thigh closest to my last little bit. Perhaps my words were having some positive effect on digging myself out of this hole I was in. I willed him to take the ring. Please take it. Please.

“I thought you knew why I couldn't have you in the house that night. We'd been doing so well. It seemed you could read my mind.”

“I didn't know why you threw me out. You didn't tell me. I didn't listen to what you did say. All I heard was what you didn’t.” He raised his head high enough that I could almost see his eyes.

Perhaps I should slip the ring into his shirt pocket. That way if he leaves, he'll have to think about me at least once when he takes it out of his pocket, and if he gives me another chance to get things right later, he'll already KNOW he has all of me.

“Don't even think about it, Diana.”

“Think about what?”

“Don't think about jamming that thing on my finger.”

“I wasn't. I was going to put it into your pocket.”

“And run away?”

“I hadn't gotten that far in my planning.” He gave me a ghost of a smile. “I don't think I was going to run away. That night, Terry, you got everything you said you wanted. Hell, I'll even ….”

“Don't make a promise you don't stand a ghost of a chance of keeping, Diana.” He dropped his other leg in front of him. His sudden movement caused the ring to fall from my hand to the carpet. We watched it roll to a stop, and I waited long moments before he leaned to pick up my dropped treasure. He hadn't even taken the ring from my hand; he picked it up off the floor. He didn't want to touch me of his own volition – not even a scrape of a fingernail against my palm. He turned it over in his hand.

“Terry, I love you.” I launched myself towards his ear. “Are you alert, and can you hear me? I love you. You don't have to wear it. It's much too distinctive for you to wear on the job; carry it with you so you always know you have my last little bit.”

He'd been sitting on the low hearth for far too long. He lumbered to his feet, leaving me dumped on the floor. I watched with relief as he went to the kitchen instead of the other way towards our bedroom where I knew he’d start packing his things. I was held in suspended animation as he rummaged in the junk drawer and rejoiced when he returned to the lounge. The twist tie was an added bonus. I had no idea why he would need a twistie, but he had come back to me, at least for the moment.

“I'll get a proper fastener soon. This will hold it on my key chain until then.” He sat on the couch to jerry rig the twist tie, his key chain, and my ring/his ring/our ring. His tongue peeked out of his mouth; he was concentrating on attaching me symbolically to him.

“I can't imagine leaving you over a communication cock up without at least hearing you out on how it happened. Come over here and tell me all the things I didn't know.” He patted the couch next to him. “I imagine a spreadsheet was involved.”

I flew to the couch and sat down, one foot tucked under the leg with the foot on the floor in a partial Indian-style. My hand was on the back of the sofa, my fingers just daring to touch his shoulder. He was leaning back against the sofa, both feet on the floor, staring straight ahead.

“You already have the gist of what I was thinking the night you left, the part I neglected to say.”

“I didn’t fucking leave. As I recall it, you threw me out.”

I jerked my fingers off his shoulder as if I’d been burned. “OK …OK. That night I booted the computer, and yes, I did start a damned spreadsheet. I'd meant to so many times before; I wanted to be ready if we ever got around to talking about where we were headed. I found out all I was doing was listing all the traits you have that make me love you. I'm sorry it took me so long to pull it all together. That was the fastest spreadsheet I’ve ever put together in my life once I got it going, but I finally got everything consolidated in one place. On paper and in my own mind. As I sat there looking at it, I realized it just didn’t matter.” His head snapped around to look at me.

“So I ‘didn’t matter’?”

“Why I love you doesn't matter because we're right together. You matter immensely in my life.” I had to try my luck again at making a physical connection to him. If I came away with broken fingers, it was worth the attempt. I interlaced my fingers with his. “We're like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fit together. I’d stepped off the cliff, and I KNEW you were there, waiting for me to catch up with you. It didn’t take me more than 15 minutes to get to that point on my own, but I had to be by myself to get there. You know you’d have been hanging over my shoulder, monitoring every keystroke.” He shifted slightly in his seat; if I know Terry, he was feeling as stupid as I was that we had assumed so much. That and his temper had him half hard. “Little uncomfortable there, Boomer?”

“This may be funny later; it isn’t funny now.”

“You're right. There’s nothing about any of this that’s funny right now. I’m sorry. Back to that night. When I had that epiphany, I called your cell. It couldn't have been more than 15 minutes after you left …you drove away …I closed the door …any set of words that won't hurt you any more than I have already. You had it turned off. I called your flat; you weren’t there. I called the office. I didn’t know where to find you and left messages everywhere I called. Did you listen to any of them?”

He shook his head 'No'.

“The only place I didn’t call was Reags’, and obviously, I’d never call Dino. I didn’t want her to know that you weren’t here tucked up in bed with me any more than you wanted Dino to know. Where were you, Terry?” He turned toward me and shifted, his body unconsciously taking a posture that was the mirror image of mine.

“I went to Palestine, to see George Skipper.”

30 July, 2100 hours

GEORGE SKIPPER

“George Skipper …it’s after office hours. This better be good.”

“Gunny, it’s Terry Thorne.”

“What’s the matter, Thorne? You hard up and looking for a drinking buddy?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes, on both counts. Can I come see you …now? I can be there in an hour-and-a-half.” Something ain’t right.

“Sure. My office is at Sycamore and 79. I’ll have the coffee ready.”

“Thanks, Gunny.” That was heartfelt. He must be in a world of hurt.

*

I opened the door when he knocked, and he looked like shit. No coat, eyes bloodshot, but I couldn't smell any alcohol on him; that meant he’d been crying. Rumpled shirt, sleeves rolled up, and shoulders slumped. I hadn’t seen Terry with anything short of military bearing even when he’d been running hard and was bent over sucking air. I motioned him inside.

“You look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet. Come on in. Let’s find out what ‘rode hard’ means this time. You want coffee first, or you want to start talking?”

“Coffee.” We got coffee and sat. Terry didn’t open his mouth, just stared into his coffee.

“I didn’t get out of my bed just to sit here and watch your ugly mug drink my coffee. Stop wasting my time and start talking.”

“I got shot on a mission in the Middle East last summer. Could have lost my leg, but she kept on my ass and made me take care of myself.”

“She? Who is ‘she’? If ‘she’s’ the elephant in the middle of the room, quit tip-toeing around her. Grab your balls and start talking.”

“She …Diana Walker.”

“This the lady that had your gut in a knot last fall?”

He nodded. “She hadn’t had time to get my gut in a twist last fall. The reason she’s managed it now is that I pushed her too hard and too fast.”

“And?”

“And she took care of my sorry arse – maybe a little more closely that I’d have liked at the time – all summer. One of her friends once told me I’d know that she loved me from the things she did for me, that she’d show me she loved me long before she’d say the words. I thought she was ready to say them; she wasn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“She fucking threw me out of our home two hours ago. I called you from the end of the drive.”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t feel the same that you do. You have to leave.”

“Okay, that’s probably what you heard. Now tell me her exact words.” He looked up before speaking.

“What?”

“Tell me exactly what she said, Thorne. Not what you felt, not what you heard, but what she said.”

He took a deep breath. “She said, 'I’m sorry, Boomer, but you have to sleep somewhere else tonight.'”

Boomer? “What the Hell does ‘Boomer’ mean?”

He looked distinctly uncomfortable when he answered. “An adult male kangaroo is called a boomer. She finds that amusing.”

“Does she find it amusing, or is that her term of endearment for you?”

“It’s been her term of endearment, but she also uses it when she’s annoyed with me. I just pushed her too hard.” Getting this guy to open up was harder than pulling hen’s teeth, but he’d reiterated the pushing too hard.

“How did you push her too hard?”

“Because of the way she took care of me all summer, I thought she’d shown me that she loved me. And I couldn’t let it go at that.”

“At what?”

“Just letting her show me that she loved me; I had to hear the words. I didn’t know she’d already said them. Admittedly, it was a piss-poor situation at the time she told me, and I didn’t hear them. She’d been willing to stay with me even though I’d never told her I loved her.”

“Do you love her?”

“I wouldn’t be here drinking your coffee if I didn’t.”

“But you never told her. You’d rather tell me, that it?”

“I told her tonight.”

“You gonna tell me how you managed to make that little slip?” That got me at least a small, world weary smile.

“Well, let’s see. I told her I’d never felt this way about anyone in my life. We talked about loving someone as opposed to being in love with someone …got those definitions sorted out because that’s how her head works. Then I asked her if she loved me.”

“What did she say?” This is a verbal tennis match with a long fucking volley.

“She said she’d told me that when they medevaced me out of Egypt, but I don't remember her saying it.”

“Were you stone cold unconscious? ‘Wimmen’ expect you to remember little details like that, Thorne.”

“The medics had shot me full of morphine and Versed. Yeah, I was out of it.”

“Okay, you were out stone cold. When was the first time you told her that you loved her?” The man looked at his watch. “Jesus-fucking-Christ, Terry! Tonight’s the first time you’ve told her?”

“I thought I’d told her. I thought she knew.”

I shook my head. “Jesus, Thorne. Do you know any-fucking-thing about women?”

“About this woman, no.”

“She’s that special?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“You really are in a heap of trouble, aren’t you? Okay, so she told you she loved you, and you didn’t remember it. She’s never said the words since then?”

“Not until tonight, and I had to push her into that.”

I rubbed my hand over my jaw. “Terry, women don’t shut up once those three words come out of their mouths, they don’t clam up. The words always come out again – often. Did she tell you why she’s this unique woman who didn’t tell you she loved you again after telling you while you were being evacuated?”

“She said she thought I heard her. When I didn’t reciprocate – and I was a right bastard during my rehab – she thought I didn’t love her. She kept saying I’m sorry.” The last two words seemed to hit him over the head like a ten-pound sledge. “Oh, Christ! When Diana say’s I’m sorry, she means I love you. Oh, FUCK!”

“Okay, Boomer. That tells me that she said ‘I love you’ when she sent you away tonight. Here’s another way of interpreting her telling you to sleep somewhere else tonight. She told you that you had to sleep somewhere else tonight. Did it ever occur to you that she might still be looking out for your welfare? You got shot when?”

“Mid May.”

“How bad was the wound?”

“I took an AK 47 projo in my left thigh. Compression fractures from my nuts to my knee, along with the hole I could put my fist through. The doctors put me in a cast as soon as the flesh wound healed, because if I’d done anything to cause the compression fractures to shatter, I’d have lost my leg at the hip.”

“She stuck around through all that fun, huh?”

“She smothered me until the cast came off.”

“So you’re still not at a hundred percent, are you? Don’t you think she might honestly be wanting you to get a good night’s rest?”

“OK, I'll give you that. You’ve given me an alternate way of looking at that part of the conversation. Give me another way of looking at this. She holds back a part of herself that she refuses give over. To me, love is about giving everything you have. How do I deal with that?”

“Has she been in a professional setting before?”

“Yeah. She’s worked in the wonderful world of DoD as an analyst. Ran some jobs.” Terry had used the word 'jobs'; that has a very definite meaning in military parlance. So does the word 'ran'. So the lady was in a bunker somewhere watching the operation she put together being executed by other people.

“Then as a woman in DoD, she fought for every step of ground she took. She had to hold onto part of herself to claw her way back when she got her legs cut from under her, and I can promise you that happened more than once. You did it to some skirt yourself at some point in time – probably more than once – because her 'girly' idea didn’t fit what you wanted to do. She ever been married?”

“Yeah, to her job.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Terry. Everyone gives what they can. She’s held back what she had to in order to survive. Give her time.”

“If I thought I was going to get sympathy from you, I suppose I’d best rearrange my thought process.”

“If, when you’d called you said you wanted me to go drinking with you, you’d have gotten sympathy. You didn’t ask me to go drinking with you – you took my coffee. You know what you need to do. It’s time to step up and be a man.”

Present Day

TERRY

Her hand was back on my shoulder. I’d given over when I picked up the ring from the floor, but I wasn’t willing to say it because I still stung from our misunderstanding. Though I didn’t want to put Diana through the hell I’d had these last weeks, if I held onto my mood a bit longer, it might enable me to find out more about her than I’d ever learn any other way.

Her voice was soft after she realised I’d been to see George. “Well, I suppose he thinks I’m the world’s Queen Bitch.”

“No, but he does seem to be of the opinion that I’m the world’s greatest fuckwit.” The reality of how badly I had misunderstood and misplayed this incident was beginning to dawn on me. She had changed nothing in our home since that night. My smokes were precisely where they always were. The notepads were in their same places. My Thai trinkets still stood next to her Staffordshire mugs on the mantle. “But this isn’t about me. This is about you walking me through what’s been going on with us for the last three weeks.”

She took a deep breath and picked up where she’d left off. “I knew you were focused on Reags and Max, so I didn’t realise anything was odd. I thought that was just you in work mode. It was more intense than you were in Cairo, but Max belongs to us. I did have a moment of doubt when Dino pointed out that you were acting weird.

“Where were you every third night when I thought you were taking the overnight at the office?” Her question caught me totally unaware; I thought I had finessed the sleeping arrangements well. My knee had been touching hers until she asked that; I shifted and brought my shin into full contact with hers. She'd done everything she could to re-establish our connection; now it was my turn.

“I took a room at the Hilton down the road from Reags’ and Max’s place.”

“You didn’t even come home?”

“No. I didn’t think I had a home any longer; I wouldn’t have felt right about staying here after ….”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry, Terry. I am so sorry. Until this morning, I really didn’t think anything was wrong with us. I would have said more before we left Reags’ this morning, but their driveway wasn’t the time or place for it.” She looked down at her hands, and her voice was tiny when she spoke again. “Did you hear any of the CD I gave you when we left Reags’?”

“I didn’t put it in the player; it’s still on the seat of the car. Your safety is too important for me to have allowed myself to be distracted.”

“It says – far better than I ever could – the words about where I am with you right now. Will you stay long enough to listen to it with me just so I know you know?”

“When in hell did you have enough time to burn a bloody CD?”

“When I’d done everything I could think of to find you - and it had finally become perfectly obvious even to me you didn’t want to be found - I put it together that night right after I ordered this.” She patted the ring that was now attached to my key ring in its usual position on the coffee table. “Will you stay long enough to listen to it?”

“I can stay that long.” I stood and picked up my keys. She looked at me, a plaintive note in her voice when she spoke.

“I thought you said you’d stay ….”

“I was going to get it from the car.”

“You don’t need to …I have a copy …it’s in the CD player.” I put my keys back on the table and sat down again. She picked up the remote and turned on the player, handing me the jewel case she’d pulled from her magic, green bag from its place by the couch. “You might want to read the liner notes while you listen.” The first strains of Nessun Dorma swelled in the room. She knew when I’d read ahead and started laughing that I’d got to the notes on the second song. She gave me a little frown.

“It’s probably better if you read the notes when the song comes up, rather than before.” She was right. Those songs spoke straight to my heart – even the second one. The liner notes she had written spoke to me even more. We sat there for about an hour, not talking, just listening. When the CD finished, she looked at me. I stood, picked up my keys, and walked to the door. She turned to watch me walk out.

“Aren’t you even going to say goodbye?”

I shook my head, 'No'.

I closed the door quietly and walked to the car.

DIANA

He was gone, just like I’d always known he would be. I heard the lock click over as he left. At least he had the CD to listen to, even without the liner notes; they were on the coffee table where he’d put them when he picked up his keys. I stopped trying to hold back the sobs and let them come.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and turned my face up; it was Terry. His go bag from the car was in his left hand, and his voice was so soft.

“I’ll make you a deal. Neither of us – from this point forward – ever tosses the other out. Threats, veiled references of leaving this home from here on in, there’ll be no more thoughts of that. ‘There will be no more talk of leaving in this house.’ I’ve been so sure that you’d eventually toss me out, given the least provocation, I assumed you’d done it.” He knelt behind where I sat on the couch and softly kissed his target spot where my neck joins my shoulder. “I’m home, Diana. There's nothing for it. We're stuck with each other. I don't want anyone else, and now I believe you don't either.” He smiled softly with his mouth and eyes right before he got the mischievous gleam in his eye. “And here you are with a stuffed nose.”

“What can I do to make this up to you, Terry? If there is any way I can make this up to you, I’ll do it. Blow jobs every day for the rest of your life?” I started to get up. “Let me get an antihistamine down so I can breathe.” He put slight pressure on my shoulders holding me down. “Anything!”

“Thanks for the thought, but no. After my recuperation, I don’t think I want any more blow jobs for a bit.” He walked around the couch – using my shoulder as the pivot point – to sit beside me and reached across me for the note pad that’s always on the coffee table. His attempt not to smile belied his actual motivation – his grope. “We're renegotiating our life; until I tell you otherwise, I want to know everything that goes through ….”

“If you say ‘that pretty little head of yours,’ we have no deal!”

“Actually, I was going to say that fascinating minefield of your psyche. Will that do?”

“While not all that flattering, it's a whole lot better than 'pretty little head.' You may be sorry you asked for me to say everything. A lot is so mundane, and another part is not terribly flattering to you or me.” If he was going to write down the rules, I at least wanted to see what he was writing. I snuck my shoulders under his arm holding the pad; he made room for me. An internal shiver of sexual excitement ran through me.

I gather it did for him as well because he said nothing for a bit. “I’ll tell you when I’ve heard enough. We went so badly off track, all the time thinking we had each other sorted that I won’t take that chance again. I don’t ever want you to be afraid to ask me why or what my motivations are when I’ve said something because I will be clarifying the intent behind your every statement.”

“I’ll do that unless you’re in command mode like you were this morning.”

“What do you mean by that?” He may be asking me to spell out my every thought, but his tone continued to show his irritation and hurt for what he had been through.

“This morning you were afraid for me; it wasn’t the time to ask questions and have the discussion this has become. When you're in command mode, you bark orders, just like I do.

“Another thing. Please don't ask me a question and then tell me my answer is wrong. It would be such a flashback to my father's interrogations I don't know what I would do.”

“I promise that if I ever do that you have a right to beat me senseless. I'll go limp and let you have at me.”

“Ah, the picture I have of you limp is probably not the image you were intending.” He'd said he wanted me to say everything I was thinking, and I had warned him. His poor, fragile, male ego will be taking a beating. “So, if these are your conditions, what else do we need to get sorted?”

“For the last ten months, I’ve felt like a bloody lodger with his rent constantly in arrears. I need to begin carrying my share of the load and make up for what I haven’t thus far. I know you haven’t kept a tally of what you’ve spent on food, but if we keep a record for a month, we’ll know where to begin. Let’s start with the big ticket items – mortgage?”

“The house is paid for, remember? When my dad died, I used part of my inheritance and paid it off in full?”

“Right. Insurance? Taxes?”

“All right, all right.”

“I do know that you have records of all the utilities because you pay them online.”

“Well, since you spend so much longer in the shower than I do, I think you should pay more of the power and water bills than I do.” I was trying to sneak in a teensy bit of levity to see how he’d react. He smiled so I guess it worked.

“Fair enough. Do I spend that much more time in the shower?”

“You do. I’ll do a spreadsheet on all expenses so I can account for the differential for the horses.” His hands went up in mock horror.

“Please, no more spreadsheets!”

I pulled his arms back down around me. “At least this time it’s a legitimate method for answering your question. Does this mean you're giving up your flat? Or do we still need to have a pressure relief valve? Somewhere one of us can retreat to if the going gets rough again?”

“We have that, Diana. The barn, the paddocks. As soon as Max gets home to help me move what little I’ve left there – the entertainment systems, a couple of pieces of furniture that belong to me rather than Adele, a few odd bits of artwork – I'll give up the flat. Everything else is here or at the office.”

“Why wait until Max gets home?”

“We might as well have a couple of celebrations in one.”

“I see I don’t have to ask what you've done with Mr. Frugal. He’s alive and well.” At least that didn’t change.

“Always, Diana, always.”

“And you don’t need to change that – or anything else. I meant it when I told you that last month. You don’t have to change anything for me.” I took a deep breath. He’s said he’s here, he says he isn’t leaving. If we’re talking about forever, about building a life together, I have to ask this.

“How do you feel about kids?”

“Let’s get our relationship sorted; we can talk about children later.”

“I need you to talk about it now.”

“That has a tinge of the ‘L Word’ – leaving - in it.” I could feel him straighten as he bristled.

“Terry, I need to know how you feel about kids, and I need to know now. You know I don’t do young of any species. That's why Pretty Woman is gone.”

“Have I ever asked you to?”

“No, but we haven’t had this conversation before. This is part of the conversation we started the week we met, and it’s one we’ve never finished. In case you’ve forgotten that, too, I can’t give you children. I need to be sure you know that.”

“I know you can’t, and I’ll tell you the same thing I told Reags. I have a child. I don’t think I have it in me to raise another, particularly considering I didn’t participate in raising Henry. I’m counting on Reags and Max to give me access to rug rats, assuming I ever feel the need to change nappies again.”

Now that he’s brought up Reags, I could ask the questions that had been haunting me since that conversation with Dino. Terry brought up her name; he’s given me the opening. Every time we have a serious conversation, he finds a way to bring Reags into it, and I’m getting fucking tired of it. She’s may be my best friend and I love her, but I’m fucking tired of hearing Terry idolize her.

“Speaking of Reags, I think now would be a good time for you to give up this schoolboy crush you have on her.” His head snapped around like it was on a swivel. I don’t think he could have looked any more shocked if I’d slapped him.

“WHAT?”

“Every time someone mentions her name, you get this star-struck look on your face. Just ONCE, I’d like to see that look on your face when someone mentions me. Just ONCE, I’d like to think you’re HALF as impressed with me as you are with her!”

He stood up and looked down at me. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

Oh, he’s good. This crush is so unconscious that he has no clue, or there is something going on between them or has gone on, and he's still feeling guilty about it. I started through the list.

“Remember when you became the man who came to dinner? I told you ….”

“I know, I know. Girls like you don’t get the guy. Girls like Reags get the guy. And I answered you that first weekend.”

“And at the summit conference before you guys went to the Barracks, you got all goo-goo eyed when she started lecturing about the way the profilers work. When we were in Cairo you almost came in your pants when she did that little demonstration with the knife throwing. I won’t bring up the Mena House because that’s dead and gone.”

He stalked back over to the fireplace. “You just DID bring it up, dead and gone or not.”

“But I didn’t elaborate on it!”

“Well if you’re so bloody worried about my 'schoolboy crush', why in hell did you shove me into bed with her the night Max went missing?”

“Because I thought we – you and I – were fine, and if I’d had any idea you thought I’d thrown you out, shoving you into bed with her is the last thing I’d have done. I didn’t think anything of it until Dino started asking questions.” He’d been pacing the floor but stopped on a dime at that.

“What questions did Dino ask – and when?”

Sunday after Max's kidnapping

About a week into Max's kidnapping before this hare brained scheme of Reags being micro-chipped got hatched, Dino popped into my lonely guest bedroom at Reags' to chat before he left the house for the night.

“What's wrong between you two?”

“Well, hello to you, too, Dino. Did you bring salsa and chips this time?”

“Cut the crap, Diana. He's gutted, and you two aren't even sitting together, let alone draped all over each other. What's going on?”

“Nothing. There isn’t a damn thing going on. I'm assuming Terry's not wanting to flaunt our relationship in front of Ackerman and Wesley. In case you hadn't noticed, this house is a little tight on space, and no one - NO ONE - is ever alone. We haven't had a chance to talk except for a cup of coffee together while the dogs were out.”

“You're alone tonight. And the only thing all of us have been doing is waiting. Doesn't it seem odd that he doesn't have you in there staring at the handset with him when he has phone duty?”

“I don’t want to distract him when he’s working. Even when I was driving him to the office, I wasn’t interjecting myself into his work.”

“Then where is he tonight?”

“He's at the office on the overnight.”

“Sooze and I are doing the overnights. Sooze is there tonight.” What the hell? I put on my poker face while never flinching from his gaze.

“Why do you think anything is wrong with Terry?” Information, I need information. I haven’t been paying enough attention to anyone but Reags.

“Every time I've been here, you're one place, and he's somewhere else. When you manage to light in the same room at the same time, you’re across the room from each other. How many times have you cooked since you've known him when he hasn't come in to check on you? I don’t recall how many times I’ve watched him wrapped around you at the stove when I’ve had dinner with you two. Ever since we all took up residence here, you’re alone when you’re in the kitchen.”

I could answer Dino, but I won't – at least not out loud. Never. Terry has never left me alone in the kitchen. Even when he was on his fucking walker, he would negotiate his way into the kitchen, get into position behind me on my left, start leaning on me, and shove the walker aside. It’s hard to stir a sauce with 175 pounds of dead weight hanging on you. God, I miss that.

“He won't even look at you, and that's the oddest thing. Used to, when you were in the room, he either had your hand, or he'd watch you. When he thinks no one is watching and he lets the mask slip, all the light is out of his eyes. Beautiful, something is really wrong here, and I don't think it's just the situation with Max.”

Until Dino started talking, I’d honestly thought nothing was wrong. Now every point Dino had ticked off made me believe something was wrong with Terry. I’d expected him to join me in the guest bedroom once Reags was asleep. Terry’s always had a kind of schoolboy crush on Reags; he gets this awed, goofy look on his face when she’s been talking about her adventures. His banter with her has always been sexually charged. Had something happened between them? Had his comforting of her gone too far? Surely I would have heard through the vents if something had. Maybe I’d already fallen asleep and didn't hear. Maybe I didn't WANT to hear.

If the consolation had gone too far, why did he make it a point to tell me his night with Alice hadn't been in Peter's house? We're in Max's home. Was he reminding himself not to sleep with the cargo's fianceé? Did he not tell me what had gone on between Reags and him? Had nothing happened with Reags yet, but he thought it might? What didn't I say or do that could have stopped it?

Reags is far more pragmatic about sex than I am. Sex equals an emotional involvement to me; I always screwed up relationships in my younger days because of that. The guy was looking for a good lay, and I fell in love; that combination is a recipe for disaster, break-up, and heartache. For Reags, sex is a bodily function, and I expect she enjoys the hell out of it, but I don’t think she’s ever confused sex with love. That may be one reason she and Max get on so well, because he’s the same way. Reags wouldn’t see it as Max not loving her; she’d see it as a physical itch that he scratched. I don’t think he’d ever screw around on her, but if he did, she wouldn’t be nearly as upset about it as I would if Terry did the same to me, and I found out about it. I’m talking about recreational screwing around. Quito didn’t count because that was self-preservation.

Terry's on the job now. Even if the two of them had started something, he’d have stopped it or at least suspended it by now. One thing about Terry on the job, he learns from his mistakes. He knew Alice was a mistake; he told me that. He wouldn't do that again. Reags wouldn't do that to me. No, sex with Reags is not the thing that’s bothering Terry.

All the strangers in the house? Now that could be the answer. This is a work situation. Terry has a totally different persona in a work situation. I can't count Cairo; that was our chosen family together. Of course, he was more relaxed with me in that situation; they all know about us. When the locals came in for the briefing, he’d acted more like he’s doing now; they didn't know who the hell I was. In fact, I was never even introduced to them.

I have to be here. I'm support staff again. The more mundane duties of living I can take off these guys, the better they can focus on getting Max home. Reags needs me to balance out all the testosterone in the house. We're not tee-heeing it up, but it does help to have another female around.

I know Terry has a good reason for why we're so distant. I trust him enough that something sexual between him and Reags never crossed my mind until Dino brought it up. Who do I trust more – Dino or Terry? There’s no doubt about who I'd choose in that match up. I've trusted Terry with my heart and life since the day we met.

“Dino, I'm sure Terry has a damn good reason for what he's doing. I’m not going to bug him about some airy-fairy, shit problem you've dreamed up. Whatever it is, he'll get it compartmentalized if he can't get it solved right now. Don't be such a worry wart. That's my job now.”

“Then it's your job to fix it.”

“He's still his own man. Just because we're together doesn't mean we've become one person. We're still separate people with our different ways of approaching a problem, assuming there is one. I'm not convinced there is.”

“You two deserve each other. You’re both bull-headed and closed off. Neither one of you will acknowledge something you don't want to see.”

“I'd acknowledge it if I thought it was there. I don't.” Our heated exchange had turned into a staring match. “In addition, I am not a bit comfortable talking to you about something YOU think might be going on with Terry. This isn't what I had in mind when the three of us got back on track. Furthermore, I’m not having this conversation with you – particularly not in my bedroom - without Terry being in the room.” I got off the bed and opened the door that he’d closed when he came in ten minutes ago.

“Good night, Dino.”

He stormed out, and I could hear him stomping down the hall.

Present Day

“It was a very brief conversation one night. It took place in my bedroom. That was when the doubt crept in.”

“What doubt?”

“When I was trying to figure out if there was anything wrong with you. What I want to know is pretty simple. Are you fucking Reags? Have you ever fucked her? Is that why you’re keeping the flat until Max gets home, so you don’t have to fuck her in his bed? Is that why you were so intent on telling me you didn’t fuck Alice in Peter Bowman’s bed? Looking back on it now, at that point, you thought we were over. Did you run to Reags for comfort? Did things get out of hand?”

“Do you think you could stop and take a breath and let me answer any one of those questions? Question number one – am I fucking Reags …no. Question two - have I ever fucked her …no. Question three - I’m not keeping the flat until Max gets home so that I don’t have to fuck Reags in his bed. I’m keeping it because I don’t have the time to spare with cleaning out the flat when that time needs to be devoted to getting him home. Question four - I told you about not fucking Alice in Peter’s bed because I wanted you to know that I did have some honour in me. Question five - I did not run to Reags for comfort. As far as I know, she doesn't have any idea anything was wrong between us. Question six - there was nothing to get ‘out of hand.’ Diana, I can’t do this. I told you the first weekend I don’t want to have a battle with you to make progress. I just can’t do this, especially not now, not with Max missing.” He’d started pacing again.

He walked to the window and looked out; his voice was low and rough when he spoke. “Max is the best mate …Max is …oh, Jesus, …Max ….” His shoulders started to shake, and I heard him sob. I jumped off the couch and ran to him, putting my arms around his waist and sliding them up the front of his body, holding him as he cried for his best friend. It hit me then; the pain in Terry’s voice sounded just like Reags' had that first night. My big guy had finally left work mode and was dealing with Max's kidnapping personally.

Someone in Terry’s chosen family was now a victim, and he’s part of the distraught family. The only good thing to come out of Max’s kidnapping so far was that Terry now realized exactly what the family was feeling. He was relying on Jim Wesley the way those families relied on him. From this day forward, he could look family members in the eye and tell them he knew exactly what they were experiencing. This would shift his attention to those families from being a strictly professional responsibility to being one of shouldering the additional burden of their emotional upheaval in a far more personal way.

“Let it go, Terry. Let it all out – I'm here. I’ve got you, Boomer.” He cried for ten minutes before his sobs stopped, his breathing evened, and his motor skills returned. He turned his back to the windows and stepped in closer to me. The afternoon sun blinded me for a moment before he moved to shield me from it.

“Now to the other issues.” ‘Business Terry’ was back and on his game.

“What other issues?”

“You think I have a crush on Reags?” Oh, SHIT! Here we fucking go again! I’d let go of my ‘mad,’ and now I was going to have to re-arm myself. Dammit to hell! Are all relationships like this, or just mine? Can I blame this on Terry? I have never argued with someone so much in my life. On the other hand, I've never loved anyone as much as I do Terry. I had intended my initial statement to be light but pointed, and it had escalated beyond what either of us needed today. On the other hand, if we could get most everything negotiated today, we could have a few months, maybe years, of the easy relationship we want.

“I willingly admit that I’m fascinated with her - rather like a bird watching a cobra - but I wouldn’t let her within ten feet of my balls. I know what she did with the Bureau, and I know what she did in the Army. Your best mate can take a man out in cold blood more easily than I can. She’s done it in the past, and if she had to do it again, she’d not bat an eye. That’s part of what makes her a good psychologist; she knows the depths of human behaviour and understands it because she’s been there. Here’s part of what you don’t know about your best mate – she was a covert operative, and she’s got information out of the enemy that only a woman could get …and in the way that only a woman could get it. She’s a first rate agent, and that’s something you would never be and do. I thank God for that every day. I respect Reagan Kavanagh, but I could never love a woman like her the way I do you.”

“That’s what I mean, Terry! You think everything she does is so bloody wonderful!”

“Did I say that I thought any of it was wonderful? Did you hear what I just told you? Yes, I respect her, and yes, I do love her but as I do my sister! I could never be in love a woman like Reagan because we’re too fucking much alike! We both have walked on the darker side of our professions, and that’s why we get on so well. We understand and acknowledge that darker side of each other and try to keep it at bay.”

TERRY

Diana looked at me like I was the idiot cousin. “Of course, I know about that side of both of your professions. Who the fuck do you think designed your damned orders? Me or someone like me. If we were any damned good, we had already thought through how to get the intel and how to make the operation work. In imagining all the different scenarios we went to darker places than you would ever dream and then pulled back from them if we could. Jesus, Terry, you sat in on initial planning sessions as well as operational ones and then went out and did the work. Which ones went better?”

The ones where we had explored every possibility initially had gone better. Diana would have made sure every single detail had gotten explored.

“Terry, you and Reags both act like I haven't any idea what goes on in that world. I do. And I've walked away from it. That doesn't mean I don't remember it. I won't be patronized any more by either of you.

“I am not your appendage. Since you walked into my life, I feel as if I’ve faded away into nothing! All that seems to count with you are combat skills. By the time I figured out a career in the military wouldn’t be that bad, I was too old to sign up. I am so fucking sorry I got into the game after I could volunteer.” He came right back at me.

“You don’t talk about your accomplishments aside from the horses because you can’t. As for me finding out any of it, I've tried so you won't feel like you have to constantly evade commenting on events. My guys couldn’t get through the firewalls that are in place on your files, Diana, so I don’t know what you’ve done. My contacts don’t have the right security clearances to get to into the files on you. And if you haven’t seen the admiration on my face when people speak of you, it’s because you’ve not looked at my face.”

“Try looking at my face when you get all involved with falling all over yourself when Reags starts bragging. All I know is that I’m so fucking tired of having to battle this vision you have of Reags. Just stop it!”

“Are you truly so jealous of a woman who poses no threat to you and who never has, who never could?”

“YES! Because your words are saying she's no threat, but watching your reaction to her says something entirely different. Try looking at it from my viewpoint.”

“That’s a revelation. I’d not thought you had a jealous bone in your body.”

“Well I do. Are you happy now?”

“Not particularly, but I am happy we're here talking about it. If you and Dino’d not had that little chat, how long would it have taken you to get round to this?”

“Probably never.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. Part of an open, honest relationship is laying all your cards on the table, no matter how poor the hand may be.”

“Oh, shit. Don’t you dare lecture me about relationships. You're as bad about them as I am! I'll fucking tell you when I want a damned lecture!” We were still standing in each other's personal space by any culture's standards, going at it nose to nose. Actually nose to chest – her nose to my chest.

Rational thought finally re-engaged though both our tempers were still flaring. “Fair enough on the lectures.

“I asked you what I could do to change in order to make our relationship work. You told me I’d not have to change a thing, but I see it differently. If I have to worry about innocently flirting with Reags – or any woman – I’ll stop. I can change my behaviour, but you may end not up loving the Terry Thorne I’ll become as a result as I won’t be the same man you fell in love with, but I’ll always be here to catch you when you fall.”

“I only want you to look at it from my point of view. If you can't do that, at least look at it with an open mind. Am I being unreasonable?” I no longer felt as if the wall needed a new hole. And God help me, I will never touch her again in anger.

“Yeah, Lady. You are.” I stroked her cheek.

“Will you at least acknowledge the possibility you do have crush on her?” I gave her a curt nod; I really did NOT want to look at my relationship with Reags. “And will you please be aware of how that goofy look makes me feel, and could you please have that look on your face for me sometimes?”

“We won’t talk about her any more until you’re ready.”

“Oh, no. You aren't laying that on me. You need to see if any part of what I said is true. This started out a reasonable conversation – a request I made for you to look at your feelings for Reags. You started extolling her virtues; at least it was out loud this time. I met your intensity one-for-one. I will be talking more to you to explain myself, but I will be backing down less once the topic gets opened.” She snapped her mouth shut; I can only wonder what she didn't say. “I will not be issuing ultimatums. But I will be speaking my mind.” Ah, something that had to do with the taboo subject.

“Fair go. I'm about back to normal physically so there’s no reason for you to pull your punches.” The fire in her eye started to fade. “And Diana, that goofy look has been on my face for you from the moment I saw you. You just haven’t noticed it because you’ve been too busy looking for where the 'gotcha' would come. Look a bit more closely; that look’s always there for you.”

“Terry? We’re not having this particular conversation again until you've had a chance to think about it, and you will have to bring it up.”

“Thank Christ,” and I checked my watch. She’d been on this rant for what seemed like hours. “Agreed. What else?”

“How long am I going to have to be on probation?”

“You’ve never been on probation with me, Diana, and I’m not starting now. All I’m asking you to do is clarify your thought processes to me; don’t leave things out any more. I have to deal with ambiguity in my professional life; I don’t want to deal with it at a personal level.”

“I’m doing a lot of things I don’t want, too. All I’ve ever wanted is a small life. All I want is to not get hurt any more and not to hurt someone else. I thought the only way I could do that was to keep the world at arm's distance. God help me, I let you in, and I have hurt you.” Tears started running down her cheeks again; this time I could wipe them from her face.

“My own stupid fears are what hurt me, Diana, not you. I didn't listen to you. You said the basics that should have told me everything I needed in the short run. You called me 'Boomer' when I knew you weren't annoyed with me. You told me you loved me. You did leave out your motivations, and my insecurities kicked in.”

DIANA

“Terry, I can only deal with your level of intensity for so long, and then I have to make you laugh just so I can breathe. That’s part of my ‘small life.’ Both of us have gone through our professional lives at mach 5 with our hair on fire, and for us, our professional lives were our personal lives. When I dropped out of my professional life, I let that go. I don’t want mach speed any more; I don’t want it at the personal level, and I don’t think you do either. Instead, every time I open up the damn morning news, I see our names listed as having been at one more society function. But I chose you, and that goes with the territory. Of course, I don’t suppose you ever dreamed your life would include a herd of horses. You have a still, quiet center; so do I. That’s part of what I’m talking about when I say ‘small life.’ I’m talking about peace.

“Even when we were at our worst during your recuperation, when we couldn’t stand each other for another second, one of us always went out to the barn because it represents peace for both of us. At our enforced social functions, we seem to be isolated from the hubbub. We’re the calm in the middle of the social storm.”

“You’re talking about your humor, Diana, but you’re not doing it. Have I beaten it out of you today?”

“It's the first of my good traits to leave when I get mad. No, wait. Looking at things rationally goes too. You gotta admit this whole situation is absurd. You don’t want to get into a shouting match when we talk about the big things, and I sure as hell don’t, but we always do. What the hell kind of marriage, no, relationship, is that?” Did the son of a bitch have to laugh when I said the “M” word? OK, he wants words articulating the thought process. I’ll say them. “Did you have to laugh when I said ‘marriage?’ And why did you laugh?”

“Because it takes a screaming match to get you off guard enough to get to your truth.” He gave me a sideways look from under those impossibly long eyelashes. “Do you want to marry me?”

Is he flirting with me; is he giving me a taste of what he’s willing to give up for me? Or is he actually asking me if I want to marry him? Is he still not over his snit at me and trying to drag me back into another fight?

“I have no fucking idea, Terry. You think we're getting back together after being broken up – a situation I didn't even know existed. Does that sound like a good starting point to you? Doesn't to me. It was only that night that we managed to even say ‘I love you’ to each other. I’ve been running my mouth for what seems like hours now, but I'm not going to do that in public. Another thing – I am not saying verbal diarrhea – though that’s what this is - in public to label all the background you want. You’re going to have to be satisfied with ‘VD’ and all the accompanying implications.”

“Think you could find a different acronym?”

“Now who’s looking for better definitions? Okay, how about TP for thought process?”

“That isn’t going to work either. TP is something that goes on the shopping list.” At that point, we both laughed. This was devolving into the ridiculous.

“Does this mean that you’re REALLY staying?”

He smiled when he answered me. “We are staying together – shouting matches and all.”

“I think I have a way for us to stay out of these shouting matches. Terry, you're seeing me in all my ugliness, and you're still here. I'll talk more, but you can't push.”

“We got through today more or less intact. We’re stuck with each other, for better or for worse. Maybe we need to back up a few steps. Perhaps we need to step back and actually try dating.”

“What? Go to dinner, go to a movie, bring me home, fuck my brains out, then go back to your flat? You can’t do that. You’re giving up the flat!”

“I can hang on to the flat a while longer if it will help the relationship. Diana, we went from the opera, to bed, to my moving in here, all within 72 hours. I never gave you the flowers, the moonlight, or the romance. Maybe it’s time I did all that.”

“No, Boomer. That horse is long out of the barn – the dating. We’re not going back. Do you really want sweaty palms again? Do you want to do the walk of shame?”

“I don’t recall my palms being sweaty, and the so-called walk of shame doesn’t bother me in the least.”

“Cocky bastard that you are, you'd be proud of strolling out of here. Remember performance anxiety?”

“Don’t recall having that either.”

I shook my head, smiling at him. “I’ve just given you my last little bit, and you’re trying to back track.” I got up and walked to the dining table, picking up a small, thin box. I gave it to him, and he opened it. It was the snaffle bit key ring I’d ordered at the same time I’d ordered the ring. He looked up at me after opening it.

“You can put the other ring on this one.” He walked to the coffee table and picked up his key ring, took the twistie off, and put the ring on his left little finger.

“I think this ring works fine right here.”

“This is so backwards. I never thought I’d be the one giving a ring ….”

“Well, we have another instance when we’re not like the ‘normal’ couple. At least you were on two knees, rather than one, so it didn’t have that import.”

“And you let me stay on my knees. That is movement, Boomer; you’re coming along.”

“If memory serves, some rather nice things have happened when you were on your knees in the past.”

“Yeah, once you finally let me get there!”

“It’s only the shoes bit that bothers me.”

“Because of your stupid jumping to conclusions, I didn’t even get to do my romantic speech!”

“You could do it now, if you like. Diana …this ring …it’s so …unlike you.”

“I got both pieces because I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to give you the one for your finger. I took the moderate approach, but, by God, you were getting something to symbolize my last little bit was yours. And if you’d been in a better frame of mind, you’d only have gotten the damn key chain. Today I opened the FedEx package, and the ring slid out first. I was so desperate to keep you here I grabbed the first thing available; it was the ring for your finger.”

He grinned at me again. “Actually, I have a gross of ‘Grans.’ They’re all different stones and colours; the one you have was in the top of the box that night at my flat.”

We were back to teasing each other again. “Damn, Terry, your own perception of your reputation must be inflated because I haven’t seen anything even close to this one anywhere in the Dallas area.” I realized my hand was clutching the topaz, and he went back to serious on me in a heartbeat.

“You know that’s not true – the part about a gross of ‘Grans.’”

“I know.”

“On the rare occasions these last weeks that I actually remembered some of Gunny’s words, I’d look over and see you were still wearing Gran and took some comfort from that. Unfortunately, I didn’t remember his words terribly often. We've always spoken symbolically; most of the times we get it right. Symbols are much easier for us than words.”

He was heading back toward that night, and I wasn’t going to let that happen, not now. “You’re getting old, Boomer. The first thing to go is the mind. No wonder you couldn't remember what he said. So, do you want to hear ‘the speech,’ or not?”

“No, I don’t care right now. We’ve said enough today. One night when you’re being romanced will be soon enough.” His stomach growled. “We've been gone so long everything in the fridge probably has fuzz on it. Let’s act like normal people for a change. Let’s go get some lunch. I'll go outside and have a look round; you get the dogs in just to be safe.”

*

I’d had my hand on his leg since we’d left Aparicio's, creeping my fingers higher and higher on his thigh until I reached his crotch. He was so hard I was worried about his ability to get out of the car when we got home. As we sped past the infamous drugstore, he glanced over at me.

“Do we absolutely need milk? If so, you have to go in for it; I’m not getting out of the car in this condition. And you might get a box of frangers for old time’s sake.”

I sighed. “Unfortunately, we do, but no frangers!”

He made a sharp turn, parked, and I sprinted inside and was back in three minutes. On the way to the restaurant, Terry’d had me scoot down in the seat from the time we left the farm until we reached the freeway; he’d wanted to be sure we hadn't picked up a lookout. When I got back in the car and started to scoot down again for the last few miles to the house, he grabbed my hand and tugged me toward him, then transferred the hand to my head, and pushed me, cheek down, to his lap. He gunned it out of the parking lot.

“Terry, what if Barney Fife’s at the stop sign? And what about 'No more blow jobs'?”

“Diana, stop laughing. You’re making matters worse!” I couldn’t stop laughing nor making matters worse. We pulled in the drive and up to the garage apron.

“Stay in the car until I’ve had a look round.” I laid my head on his seat until he’d done a perimeter check and came back to the car, opening the door, and I got out.

He was still looking around as he spoke. “You do know I love you, don’t you?”

Suddenly, professional Terry Thorne disappeared, and the man, Terry Thorne, took over. He looked into my eyes and repeated, “I do love you, but couldn’t you have worn a bloody skirt today?”

“I couldn't. I didn't take one with me to Reags’. I didn't think I’d need one; we were in bunker mode. I did take my favorite t-shirt of yours to sleep in, but you never got to sneak your hand under it or tug it up to put your hand between my legs as you fell asleep.” His groan was overwhelmingly satisfying.

“There is a hole in my jeans right here,” and I pulled his index finger to the tiny hole close to the inseam. He had his other arm around my waist and was backing me up the walk toward the porch, then up the steps, his mouth locked on mine, his thighs bumping me steadily toward the door. Hmmmm, this feels vaguely familiar. I’d kept my eyes open as he backed me up the steps; one of us had to be watching no matter how much I wanted to be involved, and I was facing the road.

“Oh, shit! Yvette is jogging past.”

His answer to my comment was muffled because he was working on my neck. “Has she taken out an eye yet with those tits bouncing?”

Without ever taking his mouth off my neck, his right hand flew up in the air, waving at her as she went past. Terry didn't bother about looking at her; I was his complete focus. He missed her staring at us; I suppose she wants to embed it in her memory. She’d never seen anything but professional Terry. Now she was seeing Terry, the man, at full mast, in a full frontal assault on his target. “She won't have any reason to mistake your flirting again.”

His next comment had me laughing again. “Good. Now when you piss the circle round me, make sure it’s wide enough that you don’t get my trousers wet.”

“I don't have to mark you as mine. Yvette got the full picture. Well, not full; she couldn't see you poking me.”

Somehow, we managed to get the door unlocked and were greeted by the dogs. Okie was busy sniffing him, and Holly was doing her Labrador Leap of Joy at having the lord and master home again.

He had my jeans – and his trousers – unzipped before we got the door closed and locked. If I’d had any thoughts of getting to the bedroom, they died then and there. He was backing me toward the center of the lounge floor, tugging his pants down with one hand and my jeans with the other. He wasn’t interested in his shirt or my blouse; I made that part my job. He just wanted nothing but skin between our waists and our knees. I wanted as much of us together as possible. Hey, that idea was working just fine for me.

I couldn’t resist making the comment. “Uh, Boomer, is this your idea of giving me moonlight, roses, and romance?” Almost before I knew what was happening, he had me on the floor and was inside me, not answering until he was already moving.

“No (thrust) …this is (thrust) my (thrust) idea (thrust) of (thrust) a …unnhh (THRUST!) …date!” His momentum was pushing us across the carpet. Thank God we’d kept on at least some clothes …maybe the carpet burns on my ass and his knees wouldn’t be too bad. All of a sudden I heard a yelp and opened my eyes to see Okie skittering across the room.

“What the ….?”

“Randy (thrust) bugger (thrust) pissed (thrust) on (thrust) my (thrust) foot (thrust), and (thrust) I (thrust) kicked (thrust) him.” Oh. Terry hadn’t missed a stroke, and Okie hadn't missed his chance.

“He’s not the only randy bugger in the house!” Maybe Terry’s intensity isn’t all bad. I felt his balls pull up even tighter, and he made one final, hard thrust, hitched, gave a small grunt, then collapsed on top of me. Oh, well. No woman gets there every time, does she, and I’d been so busy waving the dogs away that I hadn’t been able to focus on what we were doing. I didn’t really care; all that matters is that he’s home.

NOTES

Walk of Shame	Going to work in the clothes you wore yesterday because you've spent the night with your lover at his/her place and didn't make it home to change.
Snaffle Bit	A very popular bit used on horses.  It is one of the mildest in use for communication between horse and rider.  It's simplicity of design makes it popular in equestrian jewelry.
Mach	A measurement of speed usuall associated with high performance, jet aircraft.  It is the speed of sound or approximately 670 miles per hour
Steel Bars	May be found and downloaded at http://www.mp3search.ru/album.html?id=15889
Nessun Dorma	May be found and downloaded at http://www.mp3search.ru/album.html?id=19040