Thursday, January 14, 2010
MacKenzie wrapped her arms around herself as the breeze whipped around her on the porch. He’d been inside for almost thirty minutes now and she hadn't gone in. She scanned the immediate area and reached for her cell and texted back David to confirm they were all ok. She snapped it shut and slid it into her pocket. This is ridiculous, if he can’t handle you doing your job, it’s his problem.
The floorboards creaked as she walked slowly back inside. She made her way up to his room where she’d left her piece. He really had to get over what ever the hell crawled up his ass, he knew the score. She paused, he had his back to her and was propped up in the large cane chair facing the window, strumming a guitar.
Unnoticed she sunk against the doorframe and watched him, the way his fingers danced effortlessly across the strings and how completely relaxed he look made her smile. “Did you still want dinner?”
He stiffened. The sad notes of the Dylan song drifted away until he flattened his palm over the strings, twirling the neck a few times until it faced away and he could drop it into the guitar stand. "I'm not hungry." He strode past her, not quite able to look at her.
He knew she was doing her job, but it didn't make it any less annoying when she'd so cooly put him in his place. They were adults and even more important, they were professionals. He'd do well to remember that when his hormones stopped the blood flow around the belt buckle. Fuck
He walked across the cluttered room, dropping onto the couch with the remote in his hand. Please God, have a football game on.
She rolled her eyes as he moved across the room and didn’t acknowledge her by sight. What else could she do? She was putting him at risk telling him how she felt, this was her job. People didn’t just go and fall in love with their charges, that sort of thing only happened on ridiculous movies. Not here. She was in too deep to back out of the job now and compromise him further. She sighed and stood in front of the TV and crossed her arms. “Are you going to sulk all night? I’m sorry I snapped, I made a mistake leaving my gun behind and I panicked.” God she hated admitting she was wrong.
His jaw ached from biting his fucking tongue off. "I'm not sulking. I'm keeping my mouth shut so I don't regret my words. Worlds of difference."
“I’d prefer you were honest with me like we agreed.” Why, were you being honest with him MacKenzie? He didn’t reply, he cocked his head around her to get a view of the TV. For the love of stubborn males. “Fine.” She dropped her hands to her side and stormed out.
She stalked out of the room and he scrunched down into the couch. Knowing she was right and owning up to it were two entirely different things. He just needed a bit of mindless entertainment and the smell of ginger to clear the air before he did something stupid.
She strapped her holster back on before heading back to the deck, god knows she needed some fresh air before she also said things she regretted. If he wanted to play Sulky Sulkerson, then fine. He could have it his way. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the rail, she quickly opened them when the bushes moved and a twig snapped.
“Oh crap,” she whispered tucking them under her arm and reaching for her gun and ducked out of view. The crunching of leaves had her silent, they were still damn here. She peered out and caught sight of a kid dressed in baggy jeans, a dark t-shirt and cap slinking away from the house. “Hey! You!” She leapt up and pointed her gun in his direction.
The kid panicked and scrambled unsuccessfully, “get your ass back here now!” She hurdled the railing and landed dead on her feet before catching up with him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She yanked him back, dragging him to the ground and pinned him there.
Disgusted with the game, he turned off the TV, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. Christ, he needed to just suck it up and say he was sorry. He hated doing that man. Hated it more than a wax for fuck's sake.
He opened the back sliding door, "hey, Kenzie--" he cut off when he was met with an empty deck. "Kenzie?" he called out. Dusk had fallen and the light was grey with mist coming off the water.
Her head shot up as she twisted the guys arm behind his back immobilising him. With her other hand she pressed the cool steel of her gun against his neck. “Get back in the house now Jon.” She pulled tighter as he squirmed, “quiet asshole.”
Jon leaned over the railing, flinching when her gun glinted off the low light. "Shit." Jon backed off, closing the door with a snick of the locks. How in the blue hell had they found him here? He had one of the back houses for just this reason.
If he wanted everyone and their camera to find him, he'd have taken the house on the water. He punched the window, the quick zing of cold window pane making him feel better. Good fuck, she was out there alone with one of those guys. Did he have a partner? What the hell?
She quickly patted him down to find no evidence of a weapon, as she squeezed her knees tighter to hold him there. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” God, he was probably a fan.
“James Baker, my girl—girlfriend wanted his autograph. I swear, over there.” MacKenzie followed the line of his chin to where a small scribble pad and pen lay in the foliage.
“Fuck,” she released her grip still keeping her gun firmly on him. “Alright, well take your pen and paper and get off the property, now.” She stood and waited while he bumbled his way up, collected his pad and pen and scampered. She waited until he was out of her line of sight before she dropped her gun. Jesus fucking Christ. What next?
“Fucking hell," she muttered turning back towards the house dusting off her legs as she went. She knocked on the door. "Jon its ok, I just lost you a fan probably."
He slid the door open. "Tell me you didn't just say fan. Please?"
Just fucking great. He'd be on the news or even worse, the blogger sites by morning. What a clusterfuck of a day.
She blew her breath out and stood on the deck as she jammed the gun back into her pocket. "I'm sorry, he was trying to get an autograph for his girlfriend, I had to make sure that wasn’t a cover. It’d be an easy thing to lie about. What else was I supposed to think?”
He sighed, the anger melting out of him with the defeated look. "Well, maybe that will keep the stalkers at bay for a few days at the very least." His lip kicked up into a smirky grin. "There's something to be said for peace and quiet, even if it comes with your big ass gun."
“Christ, I just probably put the kid into depends.”
He slung his arm around her shoulders without thinking. "C'mon, Dirty Harry...let's see if we can find something to eat." He grinned down at her. "Or should I call you...what's that guy's name from the Bodyguard movie? Farmer? Christ, my wife made me watch that like a half dozen times."
“I’m much better than Farmer thank you very much.” They were ok, they were safe. It was over, for now. “Got any beer? I’d kill for one, and order pizza. Lot’s of it.” She shrugged when he looked at her with wide eyes. “I’ve got the gun.” She replied simply.
"Yeah, I suppose you do." She walked ahead and he watched her ass with the silver of the gun glint from the back of her waistband. The level of wrong there was astronomical. It should not be hot. Swallowing thickly, he caught up to her. "Tell me you didn't put anchovies on my pizza and we'll be fine."
“Ew, yeah no thanks.” Once the pizza arrived they migrated to the backyard and sank into the oversized chairs. She cracked off her beer top and took a long gulp. Thank god he was over his pissy-fit. “So who won the game?”
Grease and cheese burned his lip as he bit down too hard. "Uh...I don't know." He gave her a rueful smile. "I just didn't want to talk to you." He sighed. "I suppose I should get the apology out of the way. It was what I was coming outside to give you to be honest."
Her lips curved and she sucked in the loose cheese before she took a bite. “It’s ok, as I said, I panicked, I made a mistake and I took it out on you. I’m sorry too. It’s fine, really Jon.” She didn’t need the whole debrief of who did what, she wasn’t into that shit.
Thankful for the reprieve he sat back, folding his slice to bite around it. "We just dropped out of the honeymoon stage and had our first fight, honey."
She snorted as she lifted her beer, “guess we did. Pity you can’t take me up to bed for the good make-up sex.”
"Now that's my kind of woman." He reached for another slice. He just wished that were true...on all counts.