4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Castle woke the next morning with sunlight streaming through his windows and memories of Beckett in his mind…and the smell of coffee and bacon wafting in from his kitchen? Was she cooking for him? He threw the covers back and went downstairs to investigate.

There was Kate Beckett in his kitchen, coffee already made, the table set, a plate of bacon over the warming area on the stove, bread in the toaster, whisked eggs ready for the pan, and probably fresh squeezed orange juice in the refrigerator, since he could see that the small juicer had been used.

"Good morning," she said as she adjusted the burner and started the toast and eggs before greeting him with a smile.

"You didn't have to do all this. You're my guest, and I intended to do this for you. But it's a nice surprise. Anything I can do to help?"

"It was time for me to do something for you. Consider it another thank you for going to such trouble for me. And if we have any chance at making this work, I have to share the responsibilities. Count breakfast as a start."

"I like the sound of that…making us work," he answered, smiling back. Best morning he'd had since she moved out of her temporary room at his loft and into her new apartment.

"Orange juice is in the fridge. You get that and the bacon, and I'll have everything else on the table in a couple of minutes.

He leaned around her to leave a kiss on her cheek before he got the orange juice and came back for the bacon. She transferred everything else to the table, and they talked as they took their time with their meal.

"You're going to need to get some writing done today, aren't you?" she asked as she sat down.

"Before our weekend plans, Gina already wanted two chapters by Tuesday. She doesn't understand that inspiration doesn't strike on a regular schedule. I have half a chapter written, and I know how I want to finish it. We'll see how the next one goes. I hope it comes easily 'cause there's going to be hell to pay if it isn't in her inbox first thing on Tuesday. I'll probably hear about it…loudly…if it isn't there at whatever ungodly hour she opens her eyes that morning to check."

"Is she an early riser?"

"Sometimes. This time she'll probably have her clock set for five on Tuesday so she can ream me out again if it isn't there. I was definitely not her favorite author when I dropped her off at her place yesterday. Was Demming angry when you talked to him?"

"No. He was really nice about it, and he understood right away that I wasn't just backing out of the weekend. Maybe, somewhere deep down, he already knew, too. I should probably wear a sign. 'Caution. Do not date this woman. She can't handle relationships.'"

"You're doing fine this weekend…so far, anyway."

He looked down and fiddled with the silverware as he admitted, "Some of this is my fault. Demming asked me if there was something between us before he asked you out, and I told him we were just friends. I wanted to tell him there was, but I didn't have the right to make that decision for you…and I… When you talked about him, you said he made it clear that he was interested in you. If I had done that before you met him, would it have made any difference?"

"I don't know. I was pretty deep in denial then. I wish I hadn't been." She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers.

"He hesitated before asking, "Did you and De…" Then he stopped. "Forget I even started that sentence. I'm sorry. I shouldn't…"

"No. I want you to know. That's probably what would have happened this weekend. But I finally realized it was a line I didn't want to cross with him. That one will be yours."

Castle took her hand in his. "If we're together, Kate, there will never be another woman. I need you to believe that. God, we've made such a mess of this. You'd think two normal adults could do better."

"Nothing about us is normal, Castle," she said, sounding resigned. "We talk about ugly murders and autopsy reports while we eat hamburgers at Remy's. We even met because somebody created a real murder to imitate the one you put together for a book. We've both been hurt often enough we can't believe anyone can be what we need. We're both strong, intelligent, independent people; but when it comes to this relationship between the two of us, we're as bad as kids in junior high. At least we're trying now, but normal may never be us." Sliding her thumb over his fingers, she added, "And I do. I believe you. There won't be another man, either."

He started to say something but didn't. Instead, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lovingly, smoothing his thumb gently over her knuckles when he returned their hands to the table top.

"That last piece of bacon is yours," she told him, lightening the mood. "Don't hold back. I know you want it."

He grinned and made a little show of enjoying it, and she laughed.

"What are you going to do while I'm writing?

"I think I'll clean up the kitchen and then go for a run along the beach before it gets too hot…give you some thinking space."

"Not too much. I like having you in my space."

"I like being there, too."

"So the honesty didn't disappear overnight?

"The new us?"

"I hope so. Beckett, I'll take any kind of us; but I really like the version where I can kiss you and not worry about whether you'll pull a gun on me."

"That layer of the Beckett onion is history," she answered with a smile.

He leaned over and kissed her gently then moved back and took the last bite of his breakfast.

"Where do you usually write?"

"The study. Sometimes next to the pool or sitting on the couch. I get a little lost in it sometimes, so don't think I'm intentionally ignoring you if I don't notice you're there."

"And what would get your attention? Would I have to do a little dance or something?" she asked mischievously as she stacked dishes to return to the kitchen.

"That might work," he answered. "But I'm pretty sure a kiss would do it."

Returning for the rest of the dishes, she asked, "Like this?" She placed her hands on his shoulders, leaned over from behind him, and kissed his cheek.

Covering her hand on his shoulder to keep her there, he quietly answered, "Or this," and kissed her lips gently.

"I think I can manage that."

"Well, now that I'm inspired, I should get out the laptop. Maybe I'll start writing this book's version of page 105."

She laughed. "I'm not sure I want to know."

"Let me know when you get back…no matter how zoned out I might look," he instructed as he stood and cleared the rest of the dishes.

"Leave those and get busy. I refuse to be any part of the reason you don't meet your deadline."

Beckett ran on the beach for a little over an hour. Before leaving, she hung a bright pink beach towel over one of the Adirondack chairs behind the house so she would recognize her home base when she got back. Seeing the bright terry cloth that marked the end of her run, she slowed her pace and ran a little way past the house and back to cool down; then she took off her shoes and socks and waded in the surf for a while.

When she went inside, she got a drink of water and stopped with it at the door of the study where the tapping of computer keys could be clearly heard. As he had said, he looked oblivious to everything around him, concentrating on whatever he was writing. She watched his fingers flying over the keys for a couple of minutes and smiled at the sight before going upstairs to take a shower. The shower accomplished, she dressed in shorts and a tank top, took her time, and wandered around the house finding things she had missed during the quick tour the previous night…some family pictures, small decorative objects and such. Eventually finding her way back to the study with its oblivious occupant, she walked in and did as he requested. She came up from behind him and leaned to kiss his cheek to get his attention, and then his lips when he turned to her, surprised.

"Just letting you know I'm back. I don't want to slow you down, though. Will it bother you if I pick out a book and read by the window while you work?"

"No. Help yourself. I made some iced tea before I started working. I like it sweet, but I didn't know about you. Sweet is in the clear pitcher. Unsweet is in the red one. It's there if you want it."

"Thanks. How is it going?"

"I'm only about a page short of finishing the chapter and have some ideas for the next one."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. You can take some credit, too, you know. My inspiration is close by. How long have you been back?" He turned and pulled her around beside him, putting an arm around her waist.

"About forty-five minutes," she answered, draping her arms around his shoulders. I took a leisurely shower, dried my hair, and wandered around looking at things for a while. I love this house."

"Glad you like it. I want to see you in it often, and Alexis and Mother will love having you here."

"You really think so?"

"They liked having you at the loft for a while. Why wouldn't they like having you here?"

"Being at the loft was meant to be temporary. If we…" She stopped and let that comment go in favor of, "They knew they didn't have to have me there too long."

"Don't sell yourself short. They missed you when you left…talked about it off and on for a week. I missed you when you left, too. I wanted to keep you there. It felt right."

"And I missed you. I didn't really want to go; but I felt it, too, and it scared me witless. So I ran…pushed harder to find a new place."

"You won't run again, will you?"

"Don't let me. Keep me reminded that I don't want to."

"I will." He smiled as if she had given him a gift.

"Back to work, best-selling author. This won't get your chapters finished."

She kissed the top of his head, and he smiled up at her, recognizing the reversal of roles.

"I'll take a break when I finish this chapter," he promised, rolling his shoulders back a few times.

"Are your shoulders tight?" she asked.

He nodded. "Sometimes I lean over the keyboard at a funny angle and get into the story long enough to forget that I need to move now and then. Gets to my back sometimes, too."

"Lean back," she ordered.

Castle leaned back and Kate massaged his shoulders and the base of his neck. "You're still in your pajamas, aren't you?" she teased as she worked. "Is this what I'll have to look forward to?"

"Probably. I never worry about how I'm dressed when the magic is working." He leaned his head forward, closed his eyes, and all but moaned. "Oh, that feels good. You have some magic working, too."

"You get another minute, then it's back to work. I'll find a book and go somewhere else where I won't distract you."

"No. Sit and read by the window like you planned. It won't bother me. You saw how involved I was, and it makes me happy to have you close by."

"Even if you don't notice I'm there?" she asked, sounding amused.

"Yeah. My subconscious knows," he answered mischievously.

"Okay. If it makes your subconscious happy."

She finished the massage and kissed his head again before leaving the room, saying, "Be right back." Returning with two glasses of iced tea, she put one on his desk and took the other to the table near the window before walking over to peruse the bookshelves. "Let me know if you want a refill later. Do you want something to eat?"

"Not now…and thanks," he answered, lifting his glass to her before taking a sip; then he sighed contentedly, read the last section he wrote, and returned to the world he was creating before he stopped.

For most of the early afternoon, Kate read and Castle wrote, not entirely ignoring each other, simply satisfied with what they were doing and happy to be existing in close proximity.

Finally Castle stopped, saved his work again, closed his laptop, and stretched. "My breakfast is getting lonely in here," he announced with a hand on his stomach. "Do you want a sandwich?"

"If you let me help."

"We can eat by the pool if you want. Get some fresh air."

"Sounds good."

They put together a meal and ate it poolside, relaxing in lounge chairs afterward.

"Sorry to desert you like that for so much of the day."

"You didn't desert me. You even told me ahead of time to expect it. It was enlightening to see you in writer mode…all quiet and intense…and to know you're creating a book millions of people are going to love…and calling me your inspiration for it. I might even have fan-girled just for a minute or so. But if you tell anybody I said that, I'll swear you're lying."

He gave in to his little smirk. "Your secret is safe with me." He sighed and said apologetically, "I hate to desert you again, but the words are just dying to get out of my head. Sometimes it happens that way, and I can't afford not to take advantage. If I get well into another chapter today, we'll have most of the next couple of days free."

"Hey, this is your real job, and mine distracts you from it all the time. This weekend, I'm working with you. There are plenty of books on your bookshelves, and I can make us a late dinner when you're ready. Do what you need to do."

"Will you come back and read in the study? Even when I'm distracted, something in me knows you're there and wants you to stay. It feels good."

"I liked it, too," she answered with a shy smile.

They returned the dishes to the kitchen; and, hand in hand, they went back to the study and then to their earlier positions, both comfortable with the feeling of quiet partnership.