Sorry for the delay, everybody. My computer crashed this week and had to be replaced, but I'm now using my bright shiny new laptop, so all is well.
This chapter makes frequent reference to "Veronica's horse movie," which is, in fact, 2006's "Flicka," starring Tim McGraw and Maria Bello. It also features Danny Pino (Scotty on Cold Case) in a small, but not unimportant (and quite droolworthy) role. The scene Kat dreams about is taken almost directly from the movie, although, since the movie is for kids, it takes a far different path than her dream does. (Kat's dream? Probably not for kids).
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter Eleven
Orange Ball of Love
Scotty glanced up then to find Lilly grinning at him, her eyes twinkling with amusement, joy, and that occasional hint of smugness he sometimes saw reflected in their sapphire depths when she was on the verge of cracking open a case. When he and Lil were in the interview room, about to nail a doer to the wall, he loved that look. When it was directed at him, though… it sent a shiver down his spine.
"So," she began brightly, "that rule you two made about the girls from the bar…"
"Yeah?" Scotty responded suspiciously.
"You ever broken that rule?" she asked, keeping her eyes firmly on the notes she was reviewing in preparation for another interview. The Battlestar Galactica-obsessed Internet stalker had confessed to being involved in the murder of Elliot King…but she wasn’t alone. And she’d named names. One of whom was waiting in the interview room at that very moment.
Scotty shrugged. "Nah," he replied.
"Figured as much," Lilly commented nonchalantly, flipping a page in her file.
Scotty rolled his eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. Dammit, she was doing it again. She was reading his mind, she was digging around in his innermost thoughts, and he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was about to let loose with something he didn’t want to hear.
"You hittin’ on me, Rush?" he asked jokingly, trying to divert her attention with humor, but he knew before the words were even out of his mouth that futile would be a generous description of his attempt.
Lilly chuckled. "Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Scotty," she answered with a grin, then deftly steered the conversation back to its original topic. "But it does raise the question…have you even had so much as coffee with a woman since you moved in with Miller?"
Scotty bristled, but he had to admit to just a hint of relief. There it was. The question she’d been dying to ask all day. Now, he realized, he could quit trying to avoid it, and start trying to convince his partner that she was reading something into absolutely nothing.
"Look, Lil," he began defensively. "My love life is none of your business. And if I’d rather spend my Saturday nights in my PJs eatin’ pizza and watchin’ Dora videos with a two-year-old, then so be it. I’m a dad now. I don’t have time for all that crap."
"Don’t have time, or don’t have the desire?" she asked, with a pointed arch of her brow as she rose from her desk and gathered up her files.
"You sayin’ I ain’t---?" he began.
"What I’m sayin’, Scotty," Lilly replied coolly, "is that maybe you’re not lookin’ for anything else…because everything in the world you want is right in front of you, and you’re just too blind to see it."
Scotty gave a slight, lopsided grin and shook his head. "You been watchin’ too many late-night old movies, Rush," he argued, trying to conceal his irritation. "There’s nothin’ goin’ on."
"Don’t be so sure," Lilly replied calmly, then tossed a file on her partner’s desk and quickly changed the subject. "We got a potential co-conspirator in the box as we speak. Crazed fan of the lead actress. British guy. Real piece of work, looks like. You in?"
Scotty nodded and grabbed the file. The crazier this guy turned out to be, the better, he decided. Anything to distract him from the borderline crazy thoughts that were suddenly swirling around in his own mind.
***
Kat breathed a sigh of relief as she headed down the hallway of Headquarters, her sleeping daughter in her arms. Normally, since she’d already missed a chunk of work going to the day-care center to pick her up in the first place, Kat would’ve jumped at the chance to have Scotty provide the transportation…but on this day, she simply wanted to get out of there. Things were just plain weird in the office, with all that...reminiscing...or whatever it was. It had been just a normal day until the day-care center called, and when she got back, there'd been a decidedly strange vibe. She didn’t know what the hell it was about, but her instinct was to flee, so flee she did.
Once outside, she carefully buckled the sleeping child in her car seat, feathered a kiss across the girl’s caramel-colored forehead, then climbed in and started the car. She’d made the trek from Headquarters to her mother’s place so frequently made that the car seemed to know the way on its own, so she was content to let it do the driving and have some time alone with her thoughts.
Much to her chagrin, however, despite the fact that she’d physically removed herself from the office, it seemed that the strange vibe had come with her, and Kat found her mind wandering…and wandering in a horrifying direction. Spending the entire afternoon reminiscing was bad enough, but there were other things she was remembering, things she didn’t want to remember, but her mind was suddenly unable to think about anything else.
Mid-March, 2009
Three days of bed rest had driven Kat nearly to distraction, but she’d viewed them as a sentence she had to serve for her foolish actions on moving day. All things considered, three days in bed was a light sentence, a mere slap on the wrist, and knowing that the penalty could have been worse, terrifyingly, heartbreakingly worse, and, that she had, in fact, served worse sentences in her life, she endured the three days without complaint. Veronica, home on spring break, had spent a decent amount of time lying next to her, doing homework, reading, or watching that horse movie she loved so much…and Scotty had also made it easier, popping in every so often to keep her company. Kat was surprised, and slightly irritated, to realize that she enjoyed his visits. She wouldn’t go so far as to admit to looking forward to them, of course, but…the company was nice, especially that Monday evening, when he’d come back from a day of chasing doers with some Chinese takeout and a detailed recap of the day’s progress on the case.
On Tuesday evening, though, despite everyone’s best efforts, she simply couldn’t remain in bed another second. Even though she’d tossed those prescription painkillers the moment she’d awakened on Sunday morning, the ache in her muscles and ligaments had faded considerably, and Dr. Bridwell had told her she could start resuming her normal activities, albeit slowly, as soon as her body would let her.
Suddenly determined to get up and rejoin the rest of the world, Kat gingerly swung her legs over the side of the bed and took a few experimental steps around her bedroom, thrilled that she felt only the slightest twinges of pain. Emboldened by this, she took a slow stroll up and down the second-floor hallway, peeking into Veronica’s bedroom to see if her daughter was anywhere to be found. The bedroom was empty, but Kat noticed that her prized end table had not only made it upstairs unscathed, but it had been polished until the painted white wood gleamed in the faint glow of the streetlights, and, to her amazement, was even adorned with a vase of fresh tulips…Veronica’s favorite flower. Briefly, she wondered how the hell that could’ve possibly happened, but then an amazed smile touched the corners of her lips as she realized…it had to have been Scotty. It had to be a wordless apology, his way of making up for the other day. As she spent a few minutes staring at that precious end table and absorbing all it symbolized, then and now, a flood of warmth filled her heart. Then, satisfied that she could safely make a trip downstairs to grab a snack, she did, carefully clinging to the railing as she descended.
When she reached the living room, the sight that met her eyes was no less a shock than that end table had been. Veronica and Scotty were both sacked out on the couch, their attention glued to the television, and Kat rolled her eyes to discover that V was watching that damn horse movie again. This time, though, she’d roped Scotty into watching it with her. Kat had no way of knowing whether Scotty had seen it before, but she knew Veronica watched it as many times per week as Kat would let her. She had no idea what her daughter’s particular fascination with this movie was, as V had never expressed any interest in horses, really, but this movie had her rapt attention…and judging from the look on Scotty’s face, she’d apparently won herself a convert.
Kat chuckled softly, and Scotty turned around. "Hey," he greeted her. "What’re you doin’ outta bed?" he asked, his voice gentle, but pleased.
"I can move around with no pain," she replied, spinning in a slow circle to prove her point, and she couldn’t help but notice a proud, yet slightly relieved, smile crossing Scotty’s face. "Just came down to grab a snack."
Scotty hoisted himself off the couch. "What sounds good?" he asked. "Take a seat…I’ll get it for you."
Kat started to protest, but then met his eyes, saw the relief there, and, after a moment, decided to humor him and accept his help. Smiling, she sank down on the couch next to her daughter. "Just…whatever," she replied. "I’m not picky."
"You got it," Scotty grinned, then headed off to the kitchen. After a moment, he returned carrying two pints of Ben and Jerry’s, wordlessly handed Kat the Chocolate Fudge Brownie, then settled into an armchair.
"How’d you know?" she asked with a broad smile, removing the lid from the ice cream and taking the two spoons Scotty held out to her.
He smirked up at her briefly. "Pregnant woman…ice cream…it ain’t rocket science, Miller," he replied, then dug his own spoon into the second pint.
Kat chuckled, then wrapped her arm around Veronica, who held the ice cream, and the two polished off the entire pint while they watched the rest of the movie. When it was over, all three of them were yawning, so they bid one another good night and headed off to their respective bedrooms.
Despite her three days in bed, Kat fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
***
The first thing she noticed was the near-broiling heat of the midday sun. It was ridiculous, almost obnoxious, and, lifting a hand to shade her eyes from its brutal glare, she wondered just where exactly the hell she was. Not in Philly, that was for damn sure. It never got this hot in Philly, ever…and even without the heat, the fact that the skyscrapers of Center City had been replaced by rolling hills and shadowy purple mountains would have been a dead giveaway.
She also noticed, much to her surprise, that she was on horseback. She couldn’t recall having ever ridden, or even been up close and personal with, a horse before, but this one seemed to know what it was doing, so she was content to just let it do its thing. Besides, she’d discovered something infinitely more distracting than a horse.
A few feet away from the barn, two men were straining and sweating under a heavy load. Some farm equipment or something, hell, she didn’t know. She was a badass murder cop from North Philly, dammit, and she had no idea what the hell she was doing on this farm, nor, she realized, what the hell Tim McGraw, of all people, was doing there. But the whole thing seemed strangely, almost comfortably, familiar, and, after a second, she placed it.
She wasn’t just watching Veronica’s damn horse movie. Nope. She was in it.
As she tried to wrap her mind around what was happening, her attention was suddenly commanded by the shirtless cowboy immediately in front of her. Well, screw Tim McGraw, she thought, as her eyes traveled over the cowboy’s bare back, the drops of perspiration glistening as they rolled down its tanned planes and disappeared into the waistband of a pair of slightly too-tight jeans. She watched the well-formed muscles in his arms and shoulders bulge and ripple as he completed his task, her heart suddenly racing and her lungs unable to take in a breath.
She couldn’t stare as long as she might have liked to, though, as Tim McGraw noticed her presence and looked up, and then…oh, sweet Moses, the cowboy turned around.
From her vantage point on the horse, she couldn’t see his face, as it was shaded by a faded, stained cowboy hat, but she didn’t give a rat’s ass about his face. No, she was far more interested in the things she could see: the artfully formed muscles of his abdomen gleaming in the bright sunlight, his deeply bronzed chest slick and shining wi th sweat, his broad shoulders and sculpted biceps glistening enticingly as he turned to look up at her. The man could have been carved out of stone by Michelangelo himself, she thought, and as she continued to greedily rake her eyes over him, she felt the fire of lust ignite with a fierceness that took her breath away. In that moment, she was sure that she’d never wanted anyone more in her entire life. Ever.
"Don’t say anything. Just get on," she heard herself saying. When the cowboy hesitated briefly, she inclined her head, and her voice, seemingly of its own volition, urged him onward. "C’mon."
She still couldn’t see the cowboy’s entire face, but she could definitely see his grin, a row of even white teeth lighting his shadowed face as he smiled at her. Then, without a word to her or to Tim, he abandoned his work, leaped the fence in a single fluid motion, and smoothly, effortlessly, hoisted himself onto the horse behind her, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist and gently taking the reins from her hands. He gave the horse a gentle nudge with his heel, and the animal started on a slow path in the vague direction of the barn.
She supposed she should’ve cared where they were going, but she didn’t. Couldn’t. The cowboy’s muscled arms were wrapped tightly around her, and she could feel the burning heat of his skin, the sweat from his labor soaking through the thin fabric of her shirt. His heart thrummed insistently against her back and his chest rose and fell rapidly, his panting breaths tickling her neck. Her own breathing sped up a bit, though she willed herself to calm down. He was probably just feeling the effects of the recent exertion, she told herself. Probably just grateful for a break from the heat and the sun and the heavy lifting. Probably just…
Oh, dear God…
All thoughts were consumed in a prairie wildfire as she felt the cowboy lowering his head to the juncture between her neck and her shoulder, the soft fabric of his hat brushing against her as he pressed a bold, hungry kiss to her heated flesh. Nope, she realized, his heavy breathing had absolutely nothing to do with work. That cowboy, that damn fine cowboy…he wanted her.
And Lord, did she want him.
His searing lips never left her skin, and her eyes fell closed as she leaned her head back against his firm shoulder and purred with delight, her fingers suddenly digging into the slick skin of his rock-hard forearm. She felt him smile against her shoulder, then lift the hand that wasn’t holding the reins to brush her hair away from her neck. Her heart racing, she shivered despite the heat as his fingertips brushed her skin, and a soft whimper escaped her lips as he trailed his tongue up the side of her neck and then began to nibble on her earlobe, his attentions simultaneously aggressive enough to let her know exactly what he wanted and where he was taking this, yet gentle enough that she knew he was torturing her on purpose, that within mere moments, she’d be practically, if not literally, begging him to do anything and everything he wanted.
Through the haze of her desire, she sensed a slight drop in the surrounding temperature and a sudden absence of light, and she forced her eyes open enough to realize that somehow, some way, they’d reached the barn. The cowboy brought the horse to a halt, swung himself off the animal as easily as he’d mounted it a few moments before, then held his hands out to her.
Ordinarily, she would have protested that she didn’t need his help, but she missed the strength of his arms around her, and knew that if she just jumped off that horse, she could be in them once again, so, without hesitation, she slid down off the saddle and into the strong, work-worn hands of her mysterious cowboy.
She thought perhaps once they were on level ground, she could see his face, but the barn was nearly pitch-black, and she couldn’t see anything. She quickly stopped caring, though, because the instant her feet skimmed the ground, he was devouring her lips in a ravenous kiss. His hands cupped the back of her neck, and hers, of their own accord, swept the hat from his head and began to trail their way through the dampness of his close-cropped hair. His lips kept pressing feverishly against hers, seeking, tasting, and enjoying, she could tell, from the soft, breathless moans that were escaping from him, and those sounds just fanned the flames of her desire. She wondered what other sounds he could make, and, in a bold move, she gently slipped her tongue into his mouth.
Gasping in delight, the cowboy pulled her closer with a fierceness and a strength that drove all the breath from her lungs, then twined his tongue around hers, plundering the depths of her mouth as his hands roamed frantically through her hair and over her back, leaving nothing unexplored. He wanted all of her, it seemed, and she wanted nothing more than to give him that. Any inch of her skin he didn’t touch, she decided, would regret it forever, so she reluctantly removed her hands from where they rested at the back of his neck and began to undo the buttons of her shirt.
Upon seeing what she was about, the cowboy growled a low warning, captured her wrists in his strong, calloused hands, and pressed her against the rough, wooden wall of the barn with another ferocious kiss, then released her hands and tore off her shirt, the fabric ripping and the buttons flying. After a surprised gasp, she then moaned with delight as he returned to devouring her lips. She returned his kisses with equal passion, reveling in the ecstatic sounds that escaped from him as her hands slowly slid their way down the slick skin of his chiseled torso to his refreshingly cool metal belt buckle, which she then deftly unfastened.
When her hands slipped even lower, a strangled groan escaped him, and, through the darkness of the barn, she could make out the barest glint of danger in his eyes as he blazed a trail of kisses down the center of her throat, his tongue lingering in the hollow at its base, causing her to tilt her head back and tremble with lust-fueled anticipation. Then, before she knew what hit her, she was being lifted up and pinned against the rough wooden wall of the barn, the cowboy’s powerful arms supporting her almost effortlessly. Wrapping her legs around his waist and gripping his biceps, she shrieked in ecstasy, and he responded with a soft chuckle.
"I don’t ever… wanna hear you say…you got no game," he panted, almost teasingly, and the voice, and the words, were familiar enough to force their way through the fog of her searing need and snap her eyes open…
…and then she finally saw his flushed, sweat-streaked, yet very, very familiar face in a faint shaft of sunlight.
Oh, dear God…
"Scotty?" she asked incredulously, and the cowboy’s chuckles grew louder, his cocky, shit-eating, ear-to-ear grin leaving absolutely no doubt in her mind as to his true identity.
She shrieked again, this time far more out of fright than desire, as she felt herself toppling from the security of his arms, tumbling toward the cement floor of the barn, falling…falling…
With a gasp, Kat sat bolt upright in bed, looking wildly around the room. She wasn’t in a barn anymore, thank God, and the air of her bedroom was refreshingly cool compared to the stifling heat of her dream. She’d been pinned against the wall of a barn---a barn, for God’s sake---about to have sex…really, really damn hot sex, from the looks of it…with Scotty Valens?
Oh, no way. No way in hell. Nope. Uh-uh. Not possible. Not with Scotty. It had all been a dream. It was just a dream…
It may have been just a dream, she realized, but her frantic heartbeat, panting breaths, and the sweat that trickled down her face and drenched her pajamas were all, to her dismay, very much real. As was the aggressively unsatisfied ache at her core, the insane longing to just finish what Scotty had started…
…No. Not Scotty. Hell, no, not Scotty. It was the cowboy. From Veronica’s horse movie. Him she could fantasize about. And, yeah, okay, there was some resemblance. A slight resemblance. From a certain angle. She supposed. Maybe. To some people, they might look alike. And besides, who could fathom the world of dreams, especially hormone-induced, weird-ass pregnancy dreams?
Kat sighed in defeat as her breathing began to return to normal, remembering that this sort of thing had happened to her before. When she was pregnant with Veronica,she’d had some pretty racy dreams about Jarrod…extremely racy dreams, she amended…but that was different. By that point, Jarrod was in jail where he belonged, and she had no contact with him. That was the way she’d wanted it. She never wanted to see his face again, and she prayed nightly that her child wouldn’t resemble him in any way. Those prayers, anyway, were answered; Veronica was almost the spitting image of Kat’s favorite cousin. She may not have been able to stop Jarrod Jones from invading her dreams, but at least she could keep him the hell out of her life.
But this …this was a whole new ball game. This was her co-worker, her friend, her roommate…the guy she was building an admittedly unorthodox life with, the guy she saw practically every minute of every day. So the dream wasn’t about Scotty. It couldn’t have been about Scotty. It was about that damn movie cowboy.
Suddenly beyond peeved with herself and her runaway hormones, Kat slid out of bed and stormed downstairs to the kitchen, desperately wanting a drink, or a cigarette, or maybe both, but opting instead to fan herself with a Chinese takeout menu and rummage through the refrigerator, searching for something to eat, although, for the moment, she was grateful just for the cool air that snaked up around her heated skin and began to ease the lingering aftereffects from her dream.
"You okay, Kat?" she heard a familiar voice behind her ask, and she gasped in surprise, slammed the fridge door shut, and whirled to face him.
"Fine," she snapped.
Goddammit, Valens, she swore inwardly as he stepped into a patch of light provided by the street lamps outside. I know you got your own room, but couldn’t you put on a fuckin’ shirt before you go out wanderin’ around at three in the mornin’? She was waging an epic battle with her pride, which demanded that she look anywhere but at him, and the rest of her, which was positively dying to know if Scotty Valens was built like that cowboy. She’d seen him in a similar state of undress before, of course…but she was drunk the first time and furious the second, and she realized, as her eyes insisted on wandering despite the shrieks of her common sense, that she hadn't remembered a damn thing.
"Okay, just thought I heard---" he started, but she cut him off faster than he could blink. Oh, God, what had he heard? With a shudder, she decided she couldn’t bear knowing.
"Goddammit, Scotty, I’m fine," she insisted.
He raised an eyebrow at her and looked pointedly at the sweat-soaked collar of the PPD T-shirt she always slept in.
"Hot flash," she explained hastily, fanning herself all the more vigorously with the menu.
"Hot flash?" he repeated skeptically as he folded his arms across his chest. "Thought that was just durin’ menopause."
"Do I look like I’m in menopause to you?" she demanded, glancing down at the ever-growing bump in her abdomen.
"No," Scotty replied slowly.
"Then they ain’t just for menopause, okay?" she retorted harshly.
Scotty raised his hands in self-defense and took a step backward. "Okay, okay, jeez. Just wanted to make sure you were all right."
Kat sighed, all the anger bleeding out of her as she looked up at him. That damned compassionate expression in his eyes…she was discovering, to her chagrin, that all her carefully-honed defenses were a bit on the fragile side when it came to that particular look. Scotty was just worried, that was all. It wasn’t his fault he cared about her health, especially not after what had happened over the weekend. It wasn’t his fault he was concerned about the baby. And…it also wasn’t his fault he looked even more like that damn cowboy than she’d first thought. Wasn’t his fault the muscles of his abdomen rippled just as much as the cowboy’s, wasn’t his fault his chest was every bit as chiseled, wasn’t his fault his…
Oh, for God’s sake, Miller, are you out of your mind? her brain shrieked at her, as images from her dream flooded into her memory and sent a new flush of heat racing throughout her body.
"I’m fine," she repeated quietly, suddenly riveted by the patterns on the linoleum floor.
She heard Scotty chuckle. "Yeah, okay," he replied skeptically. "It’s just that---"
"Hormones, Valens," she fired back at him, before he had a chance to finish his thought. "Your freakin’ child is screwin’ with my hormones like you wouldn’t believe, okay?"
"I’m…sorry?" Scotty apologized helplessly, and Kat was instantly contrite. After all, it wasn’t entirely his fault she was pregnant. Although those goddamn shoulders certainly hadn’t hurt anything.
"’S’okay," she mumbled, then returned to the fridge, where she took far longer than necessary to retrieve an apple, spending her time taking a few deep breaths of the cold air and willing herself back to some semblance of normal. It was just a dream. It was just her crazy-ass hormones. That was it. That was all it was. That was all it ----
"Look," Scotty began from behind her, "if there’s anything I can do for ya, just let me know, okay?"
Oh, good Lord. A fresh shot of horror raced through her veins and she nearly choked. He did not mean what her wobbly, hormone-addled brain was making it sound like he meant. He. Did. Not. And, even if he did, no way in hell was she taking him up on it. They were friends. Roommates. Co-workers. Raising a child together. Besides, she’d already been there, already done that with him, and had no need, whatsoever, to revisit any of it ever again. Right? Right??
After another few deep breaths, Kat was confident that she’d regained most of her composure, or at least enough of it that she could face Scotty again, so she retreated from the fridge and fixed him with a bright smile.
"I’m fine," she reassured him. "Really." Then, she decided to appeal to his ego in hopes that that would distract him enough to keep him from asking any more questions. "Thanks for checkin’ on me," she added.
As expected, Scotty grinned proudly. "You’re welcome," he replied. "Glad you’re okay." This time, she felt like there was at least a small chance he believed her, and she sighed inwardly with relief. She really was okay. Things were back to normal. It was just Scotty. No barn. No cowboy. Just Scotty. Just…
So why the hell were her eyes raking over his chest again? Good God, Miller, get a grip.
"I’m goin’ back to bed," she blurted out, then, without waiting for a response, she left him standing there in the kitchen. She knew without even looking that his face would be creased with a mystified frown, confronted, no doubt, with the full force of these particular pregnancy hormones for the first time in his life. But she also knew, in addition to that frown, were that chest, those abs, those damn shoulders…
Well, Miller, she encouraged herself as she took a defiant bite out of her apple. If you had to get drunk, screw a co-worker, and fuck up the rest of your miserable life…you coulda done a helluva lot worse.