Rachel heard the whispers of her co – workers when she breezed through the doors fifteen minutes later than scheduled. She was happy, somewhat relaxed, and deliciously sore. The previous night had been memorable and fun, but she'd sworn to keep things in their proper perspective. There was absolutely no reason to become enamored with an object of lust. The rubber soles of her shoes made no sound on the tiled floor as she rushed to the pit and prayed that no one had noticed her tardiness.
 

Words like him, back, and trouble floated on the air and came together to form a story she knew all too well, every syllable, consonant and vowel pointed to only one topic; Raylan Givens' return.

She ignored the flip of her stomach, the perspiration on her top lip, and the repetitive beats of her heart. She saw him, well not him exactly but the shadow of the hat that had quickly become his mascot. He was behind closed doors, voice elevated, and eyes stretched as he playfully pleaded his case. Art was not amused and Tim stood back and enjoyed the show. The last name caused a flurry of excitement and Rachel continued the dash to her desk, trading would be seductress for the role of gun toting, sweet faced, yet tough as nails Marshall.

There were things she remembered about that night in the bar when Raylan's fingers first lit her on fire that simple flutter of stubby digits across the nape of her neck, led to a secret tryst in his government sponsored hotel room. They never mentioned their momentary slip, again, nor did they speak of the follow up that occurred a week later, and the third venture they indulged the week after that.

The rest was all rust and stardust.

Raylan's embittered battles fragile friendship with Boyd Crowder…

His unexplainable attachment to Ava Crowder…

Now, to hear the town tell it, you could add the ex Mrs. Givens to the standing room only affair.

"Shit!" Rachel exclaimed, quickly checking to see if anyone overheard her faintly emotional slip.

Who was she to judge?

Cold nights and an empty bed was how her involvement with Raylan Givens began. Weeks had passed and things had changed. There were choices she had made that didn't echo the fire his presence ignited in her bones. Consequences were sure to come; her sleep deprived body, ran solely on the caffeine pumping through her veins was evidence of that fact.

Rachel rolled her eyes, collapsed at her desk, wincing from the discomfort lodged deep within her muscles and focused on the folder in front of her and the grainy mugshot of one Jimmy Earl Dean.

Her thoughts were still on loop when the laughter in the office could no longer be contained. This was standard operating procedure; Raylan shot, maimed, and killed without provocation. He was chastised, relinquished his gun, and proceeded to get shit faced behind the safety of a closed door. Time would pass, smart assed comments would increase and he would eventually leave the boys only event with a furrowed brow and slurred speech.

It happened sooner than later and Rachel squelched the urge to drop her two cents and continued to read the words on the page that she had memorized minutes earlier.

She was an unwilling accomplice when her feet found their way to the foot of his desk. Her mouth barely opened to utter the request, before he was up, coat in hand, hat on head, and out the door. He muttered something about anything being better than desk duty and he'd follow her lead. Her mind immediately shifted to inappropriate thoughts and she willed her flesh to comply with the threads of sanity she still possessed.

It was a lost cause, Raylan Givens was back, and that meant that both her personal and professional life would soon be filled with unnecessary complications.