Hart & Stocker

by Max Ellendale

  "Are you trying to distract me from worrying about you?" she asked, to which I promptly nodded.

  "Yes. But I still want tacos."

  "Did she threaten to stitch herself, Dax?" asked Mom, a questioning brow lifted.

  "She did." Dax smiled fully that time and it made Sage giggle.

  "You've got a willful one on your hands." Mom gave my good arm a squeeze. "It's how she earned her name."

  "Good to know." Dax's protective grip remained and I leaned into it. "Maybe we should go home and relax for awhile."

  "Yeah. Okay." I nuzzled her cheek with my nose before sitting up right. "Thanks for fixing me up, Mom. And Sage for panicking out of love."

  They both chuckled and I hugged each of them.

  "Call me tonight to check in," said Sage.

  "And tomorrow before dinner I'll change your dressing," added Mom. "Dax, are you joining us? We'd love to have you."

  "Um…" Dax glanced between them then, to my surprise, nodded. "Alright."

  "Most excellent." Mom nearly chirped out her response as she patted my shoulder. "Bye, girls."

  "Bye, Mom," Sage and I said together.

  Dax and I headed back to my apartment. She remained silent for the duration of the ride home and parked her SUV on the side of the clinic near my truck.

  We ascended the stairs together, and her quiet continued. Once inside, she locked up behind me, securing the deadbolt, as I observed her checking it a second time.

  "I was really looking forward to tacos," I said, in an attempt to distract her. "Not one taco truck at that whole affair."

  "I'll make them for you," she said, approaching me as I sat on the stool by the kitchen island. Her hand fell to my elbow as she stared at my injured arm.

  "I'm okay, Dax. I promise."

  And just like that, her lips pursed and she tumbled into herself. Whatever she experienced dimmed her eyes to murky greens nestled below her narrowed brow. I placed my hand on top of hers and gave her a gentle squeeze. She said nothing, but urged me to stand with her. I did and she led me to the sofa in the center of my living room where she sat, tugging me between her knees. I moved how she wanted me to, allowing my head to fall on her chest while she wrapped me in a protective embrace. She rested her chin on top of my head while her legs cradled my body. I let my bandaged arm fall on her thigh and she seemed to settle then.

  We must've sat like that for an hour, maybe two, before I fell asleep. The adrenaline rush of the day must've knocked me out for awhile after it wore off. When I awoke, our position hadn't changed, but Dax gripped her gun in the hand she rested on the back of the sofa. I looked up at her and noted how she focused heavily on the space around us. I worried about spooking her, so instead, I nuzzled her chin with my lips. She leaned into me, then met my gaze.

  "Hi," I said, and she pressed her lips to my forehead. I ran my hand down her arm, from her shoulder, over her elbow, to the wrist of the hand that held the gun. "Gimme."

  "Why?"

  "Just give it to me, please." I wriggled my fingers over the weapon.

  It took her a moment before she relinquished her hold on it. I checked the safety, then set it to rest on the table behind the sofa. Dax's lips remained pursed, and she averted her gaze.

  "Who keeps me safe?" I asked, tapping my finger on her chin.

  That caught her attention and she looked back at me. "Me."

  "Right. Who keeps you safe?"

  She hesitated, her gaze flickering between mine. "You."

  I nodded. "We keep each other safe. Not guns. Okay?"

  "Yeah." Her body unlocked and she hugged me suddenly. I wrapped myself around her and she kissed my cheek. "I'm going to make you dinner here."

  "You are?" I smiled as I leaned back, wagging my brows at her.

  "I am. Tacos. The General Store is delivering groceries."

  "Is that why we're holding guns? To shoot the delivery boy?"

  She smirked, nodding once. "Maybe."

  "Uh huh. Well, babe, the delivery boy is a girl. So I wouldn't bank on murder tonight," I teased, and patted her hip. "Want some coffee?"

  "How about some whiskey?"

  I cocked a brow at her. "One glass?"

  That made her laugh and she nodded. "One is fine."

  "Bargaining point. You get one glass of whiskey if you take your shoes off. Deal?" I wiggled in her lap and she scowled at me.

  "Why?"

  "Because at home we relax. Especially in this home."

  "Fine. Deal. You run a hard bargain. Do you play poker?" she asked as we broke apart. I kicked off my boots and watched as she did the same. Her movements were much slower and more deliberate than mine.

  "Can I play poker?" I scoffed, grinning at her as I made my way to the kitchen. "My daddy didn't raise no fool. Of course I can."

  "Really?" She laughed now, her posture relaxing as she slid to sit on the stool at the island counter. I grabbed the whiskey from the cabinet and filled a glass with ice before serving both of us.

  "Yep. Do you?"

  "Yeah. You have cards?"

  "I don't but Sage does. We can have a poker night if you want, with her and Jake."

  "Maybe. Yeah." She accepted the glass I offered her. "Thanks. How's your arm?"

  "It feels okay. Just bruised." I held it out in front of me while I sipped my drink. The bandages Mom wrapped it in remained in good condition. "Not the first or last time."

  "It scared me to see that," she said. Perhaps the few sips of liquor gave her some courage to admit it.

  "I know." I reached across the counter and squeezed her hand. "Jackson is a good pup though. He didn't mean it."

  "I understand that part. Just seeing you hurt is difficult."

  "Seeing you hurting is difficult, too." I traced my finger over the back of her hand.

  She didn't say anything to that, though her gaze lingered on my fingernail. "I think I'm okay with going to dinner at your sister's tomorrow."

  "Yeah?" I perked up at the notion, unable to keep the smile from my mouth.

  "Yeah." She nodded, and met my gaze. "They make me feel comfortable."

  "I'm glad."

  "My mom was friends with yours," she said, leaning on her elbows as she took another sip of her drink. "I remember her from when I was little."

  "What was that like?"

  "She was always kind."

  "Still is. A little judgy at times, but kind."

  "Judgy in general?"

  I shook my head. "Just of me."

  "Why you?"

  "Because she thinks I'm flighty and untethered. Which is true, but it doesn't mean it's a bad thing."

  "I don't think it is. If you're flighty and untethered, I'm impulsive and reclusive." She shrugged, then ran her fingers through her hair. "Kind of the same."

  "It is."

  The doorbell rang and when I moved to answer it, Dax swung out from behind the counter and beat me to the door. I swatted her rear and she smirked before pulling the door open. Sure enough, the delivery girl, a slight woman in her late fifties, greeted us with a cheery smile.

  "Evenin', darlings," she said, setting two paper bags on the floor. "All the fixings for taco Tuesday on a Saturday."

  "Thanks, Mrs. Brooks," said Dax, then handed her a five dollar bill as a tip. "Appreciate it."

  "Have a good one, ladies." The woman waved on her way out and Dax picked up the bags after locking the door.

  "Let me help," I said, wiggling my fingers at her.

  "Nope. Go sit down and relax."

  "But I want to help you." I huffed while she set the bags on the counter.

  "Nope." She pointed over to the sofa. "Go sit."

  "So bossy, Dax." I laughed at her. "C'mon."

  "I only appear bossy because you're used to being the boss. Go sit and relax."

  "Fine. If you're doing all the cooking, I'm going to go shower and change out of these bloody jeans."

  "Good." She waved me off and I snorted my way to the bathroom.

&n
bsp; After a quick shower, and a change in bandages, I tossed on a pair of floppy sweats, and thick socks to soak up the impact of the evening chill. The smell of deliciousness cooking in the kitchen wafted into the bedroom as I brushed my wet hair. Just the thought of Dax taking the time to fix dinner had me smiling. Despite her bossy, shutdown nature at times, there was something tender beneath it all. And I intended to explore that part of her.

  When I returned to the kitchen, she stood with her back to me while stirring something on the stove. On the island counter, she set out two plates with utensils, and the prepared vegetables. I slid onto the stool just as she turned around to place the bowl of taco meat between us.

  "Yum." I wagged my brows at her and she smiled.

  "Glad you're easy to please," she said, shifting to the oven to pull out the tray of warmed hard shells. She set it down in the center of the counter beside a stack of soft tortillas.

  "It helps that I eat all the things."

  "It does." She reached across everything to nudge my chin.

  I met her gaze, leaning into her touch. "Thank you for cooking."

  She tapped my nose then swept over to turn off the oven and then set a few things in the sink.

  "Sit down and eat with me," I said, pointing to the stool beside me.

  "Now who's bossy?" Dax abandoned her task then joined me after grabbing two sodas from the fridge.

  "Me." I bumped her with my elbow before diving into fixing myself a taco loaded with beef, cheese, and sour cream. "Best dinner ever."

  Dax laughed, and put together a soft shell taco for herself.

  We ate quietly for at least the time it took to devour our first helpings, but I ended the silence for conversation soon after.

  "Do you want to stay here tonight?" I asked, glancing to the window where the sun had already set.

  "I'm not sure…" she said, followed by a deeper gulp than necessary after a sip of soda.

  "Big bed, naked girlfriend in it. If that holds any weight." I shrugged, though she seemed to crumble again at the notion. "No pressure, Dax. We can go back to your place."

  "Can't we sleep on the sofa?"

  "We could…" Only when she asked did I realize that we'd never slept in a bed at her place, no matter how many nights I spent there. "Do you dislike beds?"

  Her gaze flickered in my direction, and she all but ceased eating at that point. "Yes."

  "Tell me why," I pressed, urging her through the discomfort.

  "They're too comfortable."

  "And too comfortable means more vulnerable. A couch keeps you alert. Yeah?" My brow furrowed with the insinuation and she nodded.

  "Yeah." She leaned her elbow on the table and poked at a black olive on her plate. "But I sleep when you're with me..."

  "I know, Dax. Because we keep each other safe."

  She nodded, then lifted the olive to her lips to take a bite. "How's your arm?"

  "Just fine. A little sore but it'll be good as new in a few days." I fixed myself a second taco and made a huge mess when I crunched into it.

  Dax laughed at me, then prepared a second one for herself. "Now you see why I choose soft ones."

  "But the mess makes it taste better." I grinned, and licked a blob of sour cream from my lip.

  Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she watched me. I must've put on a pretty good show because her worry seemed to fade and she ate readily again.

  "So how come you're not watching a musical yet?" she asked, glancing to the television. "Every time I've shown up here, you've had one on."

  "I've got better company at the moment. But you're right about one thing. It's too quiet in here." I wiped my face on a napkin then hopped up from my seat. "How about some music?"

  "No. It's okay," she said, turning to watch me as I grabbed my phone from the table beside her gun.

  "Party pooper." I poked at the screen and flicked on the Bluetooth before choosing my playlist. It paired with the speakers mounted beside the television and the beat of an eighties pop song burst into the room.

  "What...are you doing?" Dax set her soda down, and folded her arms over her stomach.

  "Putting on music." I laughed at the song that rose to the top of the shuffle.

  "What even is this?"

  "C'mon. Don't you remember the eighties?" I grinned as I set my phone down then scurried over to her, my socks sliding on the hardwood floor.

  "Actually, no. I'm pretty sure neither of us was born when this song was popular."

  "Tiffany is a classic!" I laughed at her, then grabbed both of her hands. "The eighties were a time when it didn't matter if you could dance. The weirder you moved the better."

  "Says Pig Girl who knows how to square dance." She held my hands, but resisted when I attempted to tug her up to stand.

  "C'mon, honey. I Think We're Alone Now." I grinned as I yanked her from her seat.

  She stumbled, her entire face turning bright red as I forced her to slide around on the floor with me. My laughter echoed in the space around us and Dax covered her face with one hand, while still holding on to me with the other.

  I forced her to dance around with me, lifting her arm and twirling under it while we bopped to the silly music. "Doesn't it make you want to be a mall rat?"

  "Not at all." Dax laughed then grabbed me roughly and pulled me to her. My stomach collided with hers and she caught me in a heated kiss.

  Her mouth claimed mine in a way it hadn't before. The intensity of it lifted me to my tiptoes. I ran my fingers through her hair, melting under the passion she'd embroidered us in together. Her hands cupped my face, and the warmth of her radiated against me.

  When she leaned away, her eyes shimmered with mist belonging to the threat of tears. I tucked her hair behind her ears, smiling softly while I gazed at her.

  "Well, hi."

  "Hi," she whispered, dropping her forehead against mine.

  After an emotional day, I couldn't think of a better way to end it than listening to silly music and kissing the woman who, as she slowly emerged from the confines of her personal prison, warmed her way into my heart with each step.

  Chapter Ten

  "Are you still there?" Dax called out from behind the shower curtain. The steam from the running water clouded up the mirror beside me as I sat on the sink, wrapped in a towel. My hair dripped down my shoulders while I waited for her.

  "Sure am. How's your first shower without a gun?"

  "Horrible. Guns make great shower scrubbers."

  "Very funny. I'm really looking forward to the end of your shower," I said, smiling with it while swinging my legs.

  "Why?"

  "I really want to see you naked."

  "Jerk."

  "Correct." I snickered and listened to the sounds of her rinsing her hair.

  "Do you have an extra toothbrush?"

  "Sure do. A pink one fresh out of the package."

  "You're enjoying this way too much," she said, finally turning off the water.

  "I am."

  Dax pulled the curtain open enough to poke her head out. With her hair off her face, her tentative gaze fell on me as I held a clean towel to her. She took it and pulled it in the shower with her.

  "I won't touch you, Dax. Not unless you want me to. Okay?" I reminded her and she nodded as she wrapped the towel around her torso to cover her breasts.

  When she stepped out, the beginnings of a tattoo peeked out from under the towel that fell above her knee. My eyes widened and I allowed my gaze to meet hers again.

  "I never noticed you had a tattoo."

  "You've never seen me with my pants off," she said, reaching for a second towel to dry off her hair. "It's big."

  "Can I see it?"

  She didn't hesitate to pull back the towel to show me the full length of her thigh. From knee to hip, the image of a beautiful phoenix stretched. In black and grayscale, the intricate patterns had the vast tail curling with the illusion that it fluttered behind the expanse of outstretched wings. The tips of one
reached around her rear, and the other ended just before the curve of her mons.

  "Damn…" I stared at the piece of art that was both Dax and the work on her body. "Incredible."

  "Hours and hours of work. It's not finished," she said, pointing to a few empty feathers that still needed to be filled in.

  "I've never seen ink like that in my life." It stole my breath when I hopped down from the counter to get a closer look. "It's beautiful."

  "Frankie did it. She's a Wildrose girl. Know her?" A small smile curved her mouth while she watched me admire her.

  "Shaved head? Or half a shaved head?" I nodded. "Yeah. She's a bitch."

  Dax laughed, nodding as she released her towel when I stood. "She is, but a good artist. I'd like to finish it someday."

  "It will be worth it. Which part hurt the most?"

  "On my hip bone." She poked at her pelvis. "The part on my ass was kind of unusual, too."

  I laughed softly at the notion. "I bet. Thanks for showing me."

  "Welcome." She ran her knuckle down my bare shoulder. "I'm nervous about going to your sister's…"

  "I understand. Second guessing your acceptance?" I held my hand out to her and she took it.

  "A little."

  "You can change your mind, honey. If you need to, it's okay."

  "No." She gave my hand a squeeze. "I can do it for you."

  "Not for me. Only for the both of us or not at all." I smooched her cheek then handed her the toothbrush. "Okay?"

  "Yeah," she said, then I released her to allow her time to brush her teeth.

  I returned to my bedroom and sifted through my dresser to find something to wear. Jeans and a light sweater appealed to me and I tossed them on the bed beside my undergarments. Dax emerged from the bathroom, and snatched her overnight bag from the chair. It bore the crest of the Seattle Police Department on the front panel. I watched as she pulled out a pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt while I slipped my panties on, followed by a bra.

  "It's chilly out. Do you want a sweater?"

  "I have a jacket in the car, but thanks." She turned to face me, her gaze affixed on me as I pulled on my socks before my jeans. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Of course." I sat down on the bed again, gazing up at her as she came to stand in front of me while she gripped the center of the towel she had around her chest.