It isn't that it's too soon, you're on the back of my bike, it ain't too soon. You can buy sheets. You cannot install blinds."
"um..." I mumbled. "Can you explain the difference?"
"Sheets are chick territory," he said without delay. "You gotta use tools, that's dick territory."
"Oh," I whispered.
"Don't tread on dick territory," he advised.
"So, um... is a paintbrush a tool?" I asked cautiously.
"If you're paintin' the side of the house, yeah. If you're painting mud colored paint in a room, no."
"It's terracotta," I said softly.
"Whatever," he muttered, his mouth twitching.
"Or, the paint chip called it Mexican horizon. The blue is dawn sky."
"Definitely chick territory," Tate replied, losing the fight with his grin.
"What about...pictures for the walls?" I asked.
"Chick," he answered instantly.
"Um...could I ask that, instead of you getting angry and being a jerk, maybe you give me a head's up when I'm doing something stupid?

Two of us in this room, Ace, two keycards," he said and my eyes went to him. When they did, he jerked his hand, finger extended to the door. "Know what this is?"
"A door?" I asked stupidly.
"A peephole," he bit back then moved his hand to flick the security latch closed. "Know what that is?"
"Captain -"
He advanced and the aggressive way he did it made me retreat. It was dawning on me he was pissed and he wasn't pissed at Brad (that's her ex). He was pissed at me.
I stopped when my legs hit the chair to the desk. He stopped when he was in my space. I tilted my head way back to look at him.
"You got great hair, babe."
"Tate -"
"Thick."
"Tate -"
"Soft."
"Tate," I whispered.
"Shame it gets hacked off with a knife after some guy rapes you with that knife!" He finished on a roar.
My body jolted.
"Tate!"
"There's bad guys out there, Ace. Bad. Do things to you that'll make you glad you end up dead. You don't open a goddamned door not knowin' who's behind it."
"I thought it was you."
"Well it wasn't."
"Tate -

Like I said, when I get pissed I say a lotta shit I don't mean and what I said about you I didn't mean," he repeated, beginning to look as impatient as he sounded.
"And like I said, you're old enough to learn you shouldn't do that," I repeated too, probably also looking impatient.
"That isn't me," he replied.
"Well, then, this obviously is eating you and that's your consequence because I have feelings and you walked all over them and you can't order me to shake it off so you can feel better. It's there, burned in my brain and I can't just forget it because you tell me to. So you have to live with that. You can't and want me gone, say it now because I'm beginning to like Betty and I met Shambles and Sunny and I'm having dinner with them tomorrow night and I'd rather not make ties when I'm going to need to hit the road because my boss is going to get rid of me."
"Shambles and Sunny?" he asked.
"Shambles and Sunny," I answered but didn't share more. "Now, can we just move on and do our best to work together and all other times avoid each other or do you want me to go?"
He moved forward an inch and I again fought the urge to retreat.
"Forgiveness is divine," he said softly and I'd never heard him talk soft. He had a very nice voice but when it went soft, it was beautiful.
This also sucked. (BTW, in the beginning a lot of things sucked! :D) I mean Lauren uses this word 'sucks'.
"I'm not divine," I returned. "I'm also not Ace and I'm not Babe. I'm Lauren. You don't like my name, don't call me anything at all. Now can I clean the danged table?"
I had my head tipped back to look him in the eye but I could tell he was expending effort to hold his whole body still.
Then he said in that soft voice, "I'm sorry, Ace."
"Me too," I replied instantly being clear I didn't accept his apology...

Jesus, Laurie, baby, look at you."
My eyes followed his, mainly because I wanted him to keep at me and I'd do just about anything he told me to do to get it.
But what I saw made my heart skip and my legs fail.
Tate, dark, tall, behind me, his hands on me; me, blonde, my face flushed, my eyes hooded, tucked tight against him. A perfect fit, made to be there. A perfect match, made to be together.
Made to be there.
Made to be together.
We looked great.
We looked hot.
We looked beautiful.
My eyes went to his in the mirror.

Ace!" Tate shouted, both Wendy and I jumped and twisted our necks to look his way. "You cashed out or what?" Tate asked still in a shout.
"I'm cashed out," I shouted back.
"You wanna socialize for the next hour or are we gonna go?" He was still shouting and I was acutely aware, due to the fact that the noise level declined significantly, that the entire bar was listening.
"Keep your pants on!" I yelled.
The noise level disappeared.
"Babe, get your ass over here," Tate ordered.
"Patience, Captain, I'm talking to Wendy," I shot back.
"Ass. Over. Here!" Tate commanded.
I looked at Wendy and snapped loudly, "He's so darned bossy!"
Two men and a woman sitting at the bar close to us burst out laughing.
"You better get your ass over there," Wendy advised, I rolled my eyes and stomped across the bar.

Which one are you?" I whispered.
"What?" he asked.
"Are you the good guy, the sweet guy who takes care of me or are you this guy who's kind of a jerk?"
His answer was instantaneous. "I'm both those guys, babe. Your job is to get used to it."
There it was, another order. Not even an ultimatum. Just, "get used to it".