Author's Note: Happy New Year! Thanks for everyone's patience with the delay in posting. I had good reasons, but they're all boring real-world things, and that's not why you're here. Suffice it to say, I've got almost 100 pages worth of story that I haven't posted yet, and that's still a collection of snippets (not even a rough draft yet). There's plenty more to come, as real life allows me writing time. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, or added this story to your favorites. Your encouragement keeps me writing! Hope you enjoy!

Monday, Lois woke to something even better than birdsong – Clark laughing. The sound drew her to the window (limping a little because her leg muscles were stiff), and she rolled up the shade to see him and Martha standing next to a lilac bush. They both had shears or something and were cutting blossoms from the shrub. His mother must have said something funny because he was still chortling from time to time.

Grinning, Lois dressed and hurried as best she could down the stairs. The night before she hadn't felt stiff at all, but her sore muscles today were probably from holding the flight position for so long. Clark had supported her hips and upper body while they were flying, but not her legs or head. Experimentally, she tried looking up and and cringed when her neck muscles complained.

Still, it was totally worth it.

As she hobbled into view in the side yard, Clark smiled her way, and Lois' heart melted. His expression shifted to concern, though. He looked her over from head to toe – with his X-ray vision, probably, to make sure she didn't have a serious injury.

He's such a mother hen! Lois rolled her eyes at him. "I'm fine. Just a little stiff from holding my legs in that position so long."

Martha startled and turned, her eyes dancing and her hand over her heart. Martha's smile faded, though, and she gave Clark a stunned look. Only then did Lois realize that, without context, her words implied a very different scenario last night.

Clark blushed as he realized the same thing, and Lois laughed. "Your son was a complete gentleman. He even offered his services as my personal jet-pack on an airborne tour of the county."

"Well. As long as he was a gentleman," Martha said, turning back to the lilac.

Lois finally looked away from Clark long enough to notice a box on the grass holding a bunch of mason jars. All of them had water in them, and about half of them were already full of cut, purple blossoms. "What's all this?"

"We talked last night over dinner about visiting the cemetery," Clark reminded her.

Lois shrugged. "Sure, it's Memorial Day. But are all these for Jonathan's grave?"

"Dad's family has been farming for five generations," Clark said. "Not all of them are buried in Smallville, but most of them are."

"Ooooh." Lois had been thinking of a short visit to Jonathan's grave, maybe a half an hour if they were feeling really sentimental. But this...this looked like an all-day project.

"Do you need some ibuprofen or anything for the sore muscles?" Martha asked. "I was about to start breakfast anyway, and Clark can finish this up."

"Sure," Lois agreed.

…

There were so many cars at the cemetery that Martha had to park the old truck on the street and have Clark carry the box of flowers. Lois offered to carry the six-pack of Jonathan's favorite beer that they'd bought on their way into town. That arrangement left them both with a free arm, and so Lois reached out to hold Clark's hand as they walked.

Clark had left the glasses behind, of course, since he'd never had them growing up, and it weirded her out a bit to see him in public without cape or glasses. In terms of his identity, that kind of intimacy was something she'd come to think of as being just for her. It left her feeling a bit like he was walking around naked, and she had the irrational urge to put a hat or sunglasses or something on him.

"Ezekiel Kent helped settle Smallville in the late 1850's," Clark said as they strolled past other families decorating graves. "He was a Free-stater from New York."

"As in abolitionist?" Lois asked.

"Exactly. Slave owners from Missouri rushed across the border when Kansas was opened for settlement, and they tried to make Kansas a slave state. Abolitionists back east recruited people to come and counter the Missourians."

"And your ancestor, or at least Jonathan's, was one of them?"

Martha turned and pulled two of the flower-filled jars out of the box. "Yes, old Zeke came to Kansas to keep it free."

Lois smiled up at Clark. "That's fitting, somehow." She'd forgotten that Kansas wasn't always the bucolic American heartland. Once, it had been a bloody frontier, and before that, it had been a land of exile for Native American tribes. So much heartache and pain had been poured out on the plains of Kansas.

Martha knelt next to two weathered gravestones and set a jar on each. "These are Hannah and Beth, two of Zeke's daughters who died during a cholera outbreak within a year of settling here."

"We don't know where Zeke is buried, though," Clark added, "because he died fighting for the Union back east."

Martha stood, selected a jar of lilacs from the box, and walked a couple of rows down to kneel beside another grave. "But Zeke's wife Abigail here was able to maintain the homestead, thanks to the help of their son Thomas who was still just a teenager when his father died." She smiled up at Clark, and Lois could see the gratitude in Martha's eyes.

She remembered then that, like his "ancestor," Clark had done the same for Martha. As sometimes happened during her investigations, the story of Clark's life snapped into a sharper focus with that realization. Even though these long-dead settlers weren't his kin by blood, the threads of their histories had been woven into his, clothing him – a Kryptonian refugee – in a human culture of freedom, family, and sacrifice. It wasn't just Martha and Jonathan who had nurtured him into the man who would become a superhero. These gravestones and the people they represented were a part of him, too.

"Their sod dugout eventually became our cellar," Clark said.

Martha shook her head at him. "And Lois is going to be bored to tears if you tell her our whole family history, son."

"No," Lois protested, "I'm enjoying this. A lot, actually."

Clark looked at her curiously, and she shrugged. "I have no idea who my great-grandparents are, much less five generation's worth." She took a jar of lilacs with her free hand. "Lead on."

Martha beamed with approval and took two more bouquets herself. They wandered through the cemetery, placing flowers on the graves of men and women, children and adults, Free-staters and slave owners, Kents and Smalls and Rileys. Even though these weren't Martha's ancestors, she knew at least a little about each of them. The last jar of flowers went to Jonathan's artist of an aunt.

"No lilacs for Jonathan?" Lois asked as they neared his gravestone.

Both Clark and Martha laughed, but Martha recovered first and patted Lois on the arm. "What would he ever want flowers for? He told me once, 'Alfalfa's sweeter than lilacs, and I'd rather be remembered with a cold beer than with flowers that'll wilt in a couple days anyway. Leave them on the bush so you can enjoy them, and drink to my memory instead.'"

That was more like the Jonathan Lois had heard about. Clark sat cross-legged on the grass, and she and Martha joined him. Almost solemnly, Martha popped the lids off of three long-neck bottles, setting a fourth on Jonathan's gravestone. Lois accepted the beer she offered her, and the three of them clinked their drinks together.

"To my husband, Jonathan," Martha said, tears dancing in her eyes, "I miss you so much, even though I know you're never far away."

"To my dad, who raised me right and who loved me beyond all common sense," Clark said.

Lois wished she'd had more time to think of a toast of her own. Improvising, she said, "To Jonathan Kent." Martha looked at her in surprise, but Clark only smiled and nodded to Lois in encouragement. "I wished I'd had a chance to meet you, but I see your fingerprints every day, and you were a great father if the way your son turned out is any way to judge."

Martha sighed wistfully, but like Clark, she smiled in approval at Lois' toast.

After they'd all had a swallow or two, Lois said, "I'd love to hear a few more stories about him."

They whiled away another half hour on the grass under the warm spring sun, as Lois soaked up tales of Jonathan and a much-younger Clark. They were mundane stories about farm life – hard work, Christmas, bad snowstorms, a grass fire started by dry lightening – but little by little they revealed even more of who he was to Lois. By the time they left to go get lunch at Jonathan's favorite diner in town, she felt like he might just be tagging along in spirit.

...

Lois smiled to herself as Martha parked the truck in front of Pete Ross' house. He was a Smallville city slicker, which meant he only had a third of an acre instead of a whole farm and his dog was chained up. It was still more suburban than she'd ever lived.

Clark easily hopped out of the back of the truck and was there to open her door before she could, even though he was holding a large watermelon. Lois climbed out, and grinning, took his free hand. When Martha came around from other side, Lois felt a little guilty that Clark was taking better care of her than he was his own mother. She couldn't quite muster enough guilt to say anything, though. Martha's smile when she saw the two hand-in-hand reassured Lois that his mom didn't mind one bit.

Pete came around the corner of the house and waved in greeting. "Hi, Clark, Mrs. Kent." Walking closer, he hesitated for half a beat as he recognized Lois. "Miss Lane."

Clark let go of Lois' hand to shake Pete's. "Thanks for inviting us."

Recovering, he said, "Sure! Glad you could make it. Everyone's around back."

"Smells great. You smoking ribs?" Clark asked, making small talk as he and Pete led the way to the backyard.

Martha fell in step beside Lois and leaned closer as they walked. "Pete's just a little famous around here for his ribs."

"If it tastes as good as it smells, I can see why," Lois said. She was grateful that she'd taken Martha's advice at lunch to save room for Pete's cooking.

They came around the corner to a patio full of about twenty people milling about. One of them, a brunette, exclaimed "Clark!" and hurried over to throw her arms around him.

Lois mentally recoiled, but Martha intervened before Lois could recover. "Lana! I haven't seen you in two years!"

The brunette, Lana, stepped back and embraced Martha, too. "Mrs. Kent, so good to see you! You remember my son Joey, don't you?" She waved a kid over who looked to be about eight years old.

As Martha gushed over how much he'd grown since she'd seen him last, Lois took a deep breath. This Lana was just a family friend, maybe even a cousin or something. No need to freak out or play the territorial girlfriend.

To her relief, Clark didn't waste any time handing the watermelon off to Pete and stepping back a couple of paces to join Lois and hold her hand again. In a low voice, he asked, "Are you okay?"

She whispered, "Random strangers don't run up and hug you in Metropolis, not without the cape."

He chuckled and gently squeezed her hand in answer.

Lana turned their way, saw them holding hands, and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

Nope, should have trusted my first instincts, Lois thought.

A couple about Martha's age stepped closer and Clark gave the woman a hug. "Hi, Aunt Emmie."

The name jogged something in Lois' memory – this was Martha's cousin and her husband who helped Martha out after Jonathan died. They were the same couple who let Martha and Clark stay with them after Zod damaged the house.

"Good to see you," Aunt Emmie said, giving him a tight squeeze.

The man clapped Clark on the shoulder when he stepped back from Emmie. "Glad you could make it."

"Me, too, Uncle Stanley."

Emmie glanced at Martha. "And is this...?"

"Oh! Lois, this is my cousin Emmie Nobels and her husband Stanley. Emmie, Stanley, this is Lois Lane."

"It's nice to meet you," Lois said, extending her hand. "Clark has spoken very highly of you both."

Emmie gave Clark a sly glance as she shook Lois' hand. "He might have mentioned you once or twice, too."

"So you two work together, right?" Lana asked, kicking back in a lawn chair.

"When I'm lucky," Clark answered, gesturing Lois toward a glider bench big enough for the two of them. She took her seat and made herself comfortable against him when Clark put his arm around her. "Lois is one of the Daily Planet's star reporters. I'm still just a stringer who's learning the ropes and she's an investigative journalist with a Pulitzer to her name."

Warmth rushed through her at his praise. Her previous boyfriends had been intimidated by her writing prowess. Clark bragged about her. It was a new experience. To Lana, she said, "We do share a byline on occasion."

"And that means...?"

"We're partners."

"Ah."

A woman emerged from the house with a tray full of cut-up watermelon, and Pete gave her a quick kiss. Since the stranger was wearing a wedding ring, Lois assumed she was Pete's wife. "Let's eat," Mrs. Ross announced.

While other people lined up at the picnic table, Lana stayed and chatted with Clark, catching up on the news about mutual friends. He was so relaxed and chatty that Lois began to ease off from her wariness of Lana. He really did have a different demeanor here in Smallville, and not just on the farm.

Lana mentioned Chief Parker, and Lois wondered if that was the same police officer Martha had brought an infant Clark to. After all, Martha had called him "Chief Parker" in her reminiscing on Sunday. Come to think of it, the cop who had found Lois in the corn field when Zod attacked had guessed right from the start that Clark was involved. Lois' attention had been on other things that day, but he'd given orders like he was the police chief, and he'd been old enough that he might have been the same officer. If his job here in Smallville was his first, it might just be the same cop. Now that was another person she'd love to interview! What kind of hijinks did a teenage Superman get up to?

"How's Tulsa treating you?" Clark asked Lana, bringing Lois back to the present.

"Not so good." In a lower voice, she added, "I filed for divorce last month."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Clark said, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. Sincerity practically radiated from him. "You always seemed very happy together."

Lana gave him a half-smile. "I've been told that I set my standards too high in men. Lon came close, but eventually..." She shrugged. "...he showed he was just another mere mortal."

"It happens to all of us, sooner or later," Clark pointed out.

Lana smile became more genuine. "Some of us more than others." She hesitated but after a moment said, "I was thinking of moving back here when the divorce is finalized."

"That would probably be a good thing. I know your mom would love to have you and Joey closer."

Lana nodded in agreement. In a lower voice, she said, "I was kind of hoping that...other people from Smallville would be glad to see me come back, too."

In front of me? Really? Lois' inner swooning fangirl was not happy, and Lois had to rein herself in. She was not going to be the overreacting girlfriend.

"You saw my mom's reaction," Clark easily said. "I'm sure there are a lot of people here who will be glad to have you around more."

Was he oblivious or was Lois completely reading the situation wrong?

Lana reached across the distance between them and placed her hand on Clark's forearm. "What about you?"

Clark jolted upright at her touch.

Oblivious, Lois concluded.

Lana took in his reaction, and then glanced apologetically at Lois. "Sorry, don't mind me. Clark and I go way back." She smiled as she turned her attention to Clark. "So much history between us."

"Lana..." he said, a warning edge in his tone.

"Dancing at the Corn Festival. Christmases together." A mischievous light sparkled in her eyes. "Getting hot and heavy down at the swimming hole."

Clark's furious blush told Lois all she needed to know – Lana was telling the truth. That fawning fangirl in her was ready to tear Lana's hair out, but she wasn't some junior high kid. She'd deal with this like an adult. "There's no line for the food now. I think I'll get some of those ribs before they're all gone."

Standing, she extended her hand. "It's very nice to have met you," she said as a stunned Lana shook it, and then Lois turned her back on both her and Clark. Let Lana think Lois had complete confidence in Clark, even if she didn't for the first time since he'd showed up at that military base in the desert to bargain for her freedom.

Lois passed Martha, Emmie, and Stanley all chatting with Pete and his wife at a picnic table, and she faked a smile when Martha glanced up in surprise. She'd get through the rest of this barbecue... somehow.

Clark was beside her as she reached for a paper plate. "Lois," he said in a low voice, leaning closer.

She handed him a plate, too, but dodged his gaze, instead looking over the laden table. Woodenly, she said, "This is quite a spread."

"Lois," he tried again.

She turned to face forward, moving down the table. "I haven't had potato salad in ages." She wasn't exactly fond of potato salad, but she doubted she'd be able to eat any of this anyway, with the way anger, hurt, and betrayal were all churning away in her stomach.

Clark followed her in silence, and Lois half-heartedly filled her plate. She was being hypocritical, she knew. After all, she'd had several serious boyfriends over the years, and she'd slept with half of them. So what if Clark had poor taste in women as a teenager? He was here with her now.

The thought was calming, but hurt flowed in as her anger ebbed. She had been honest with Clark. She'd been vulnerable with him in ways that she never had been with any mere mortal, even if they hadn't been physically intimate. But he hadn't. He'd lied, and over the stupidest thing, too.

By then, she'd reached the end of the table. There was cooler full of beer bottles sitting in the shade of the house, but she wanted to keep her wits about her. Instead, she went to the a 5-gallon drink cooler perched on the edge of the table, and she picked up a paper cup to fill it. When she pushed the button on the cooler, though, only a trickle of water came out.

"There's just ice left in it," Clark said, his tone soft and soothing. "Let's go fill it up inside."

Lois looked up into his pleading eyes, and she felt a weird, warm kind of terror fill her. She would do anything for this man, even let him treat her like a doormat, if he asked nicely enough. How had she given him such power over her? Tearing her gaze away from him, she nodded in consent if not agreement.

He picked up the cooler with two hands and started for the back porch. "Can you get the door for me?" he asked.

Wordlessly, she opened the screen door and followed him inside. He went to the kitchen and set the cooler in the sink. Taking the top off it, he started filling it with tap water.

She lingered in the hallway, feeling her anger starting to build – in reaction to the terror this time instead of to her jealousy. What if she'd read him completely wrong? What if he wasn't the good and caring soul...but she knew better. She knew it as sure as she knew her heart was beating. If she knew anything in this world, it was that Clark Kent cared. But she still had every right to be upset.

Clark turned "I know what you're thinking."

Lois raised a skeptical eyebrow. "So you are a mind-reader now?"

He pressed his lips together in frustration. "You're right. I'm wrong to assume. What are you thinking?"

She let her breath out in a whoosh. Focusing on the most important problem, she said, "I don't mind that I'm not your first girlfriend, Clark, but I don't like being lied to."

"I don't understand."

"Way back on that first night that you kidnapped me, I asked if I was your first kiss."

Understanding dawned in his eyes. "And I asked if it mattered. I didn't lie."

Her frown deepened, and he added, "But for what it's worth, I didn't kiss her."

Lois crossed her arms defiantly, not buying it, not with the way he was blushing earlier.

He grimaced slightly and glanced down. When he lifted his gaze again, it was Superman who was speaking. "She kissed me. Scared the tar out of me, to be honest. I had even less control of my strength then than I do now. Some of my powers were still emerging, and I wasn't sure what violent or deadly thing I might accidentally do next."

That rang true, and Lois' arms relaxed to her side. "So what did you do?"

The superhero mask slipped away from his expression, and he shuffled closer to her. "I ran home, and I avoided her for the next few weeks. I never told my folks. I'm pretty sure she didn't tell anyone else, either."

Lois had just assumed he'd be the instigator. It hadn't occurred to her that maybe he didn't want Lana's attention. "So you weren't attracted to her?"

Again he blushed and dodged her gaze. "She spoke her mind. She was ambitious. She's a lot like you, actually."

A flash of jealousy flared up again, and Lois mentally stomped it down. She was not going to be the ridiculous, insecure, needy girlfriend.

Looking up again, he added, "But she wanted me to leave Mom on her own right after Dad died. She was the one who kept encouraging me to go to college, and when I decided to stay, she was...less than forgiving."

Crossing the remaining distance between them, Clark reached out his hand in invitation. With a sigh at herself (because she should be storming out right now), she clasped his hand. Lois glanced down at their intertwined fingers, wishing that she could somehow rewind to Sunday afternoon and decline Pete's invitation. This weekend had been perfect until now.

When she looked up at him again, the intensity of his expression surprised her. He moved closer, backing her up against the wall, and kissed her more deeply than ever before. She opened her mouth more, inviting him in, and thrilled at his answering moan. His hands wandered her face and arms and side, even though his tongue and mouth still kept a teasingly deliberate pace. When he finally broke off the kiss, she sagged against him.

In her ear, he murmured, "I love you, Lois. Not Lana, not any other woman. Like I said last night, there's no one who holds a candle to you."

She laughed weakly. "You did say that, didn't you."

"Yes. And I meant it, even though I didn't go into detail about all the billions of other women you surpass and the ways you leave them in the dust."

She straightened to kiss him, but the splashing of water in the sink told her the water cooler was full.

Clark hesitated, clearly wanting that kiss, but chuckling, Lois nodded toward the overflowing cooler. "Go turn it off."

In a blink he was on the other side of the room, spinning the top onto the cooler. He easily hefted it and turned with hopeful eyes. "We're good?"

"Good enough," she allowed. She needed time to process all this before she made any promises.

He nodded in agreement and headed toward the back door. Lois went with him, holding the door again, and retrieved her paper cup while he positioned the cooler on the end of the table. Once her glass was full, she grabbed her plate and turned to go back to her seat, but Clark loomed in front of her. A flirty little smile played on his lips, like that time in the desert before he took off to save the world, like the swimming hole before he dunked her. His hands cupped her face, a question in his eyes.

He wanted to collect that postponed kiss from the kitchen. Lois grinned in answer, and he kissed her – slow and sweet and hot as the summer sun.

Several people wolf-whistled, and one man even hollered, "Get a room!"

"Stanley!" Martha scolded, and Lois giggled against Clark's lips.

He straightened, winked at her, and reached for his own paper cup. Lois looked over toward the glider they'd been sitting on before and noticed that Lana was gone. Glancing around, she saw Lana talking to her son Joey and another boy about something. Either she'd already moved on or was trying to pretend she hadn't seen the kiss. Either way, she wasn't likely to cause more trouble. Relieved, Lois led the way back to glider.

Before she even had her first bite of the ribs, Stanley joined them, taking Lana's seat. "I'm not really Clark's uncle, you know," he amiably said. "But we are kin."

Lois nodded. "Emmie is Martha's cousin, right?"

"Yep. We decorated graves on their side of the family on Saturday. Did you make it over to the cemetery today?"

Clark filled him in, and Lois gratefully turned her attention to the food. The meat tasted every bit as good as it smelled, and she made a mental note to compliment Pete. All three of them chatted for a long time, the conversation meandering from family history on Martha's side to the weather to what life was like in Metropolis.

Eventually, Clark noticed that Lois' had drained her cup, and he offered to refill it along with his own. When he stepped away, Stanley conspiratorially leaned closer to Lois. "You know, Clark is a good man."

"Oh, I know," she said, grinning his way. His back was turned as he stooped to fill the cup, but he could hear them and was probably eavesdropping.

"No," Stanley said, dead serious this time. "He is a good man."

Lois focused on Stanley and saw uncertainty in his eyes. It took her a few seconds to realize what he was trying to say. He apparently understood who Clark moonlighted as, and he was wondering if Lois did too.

Sobering, Lois said, "I know. He's the best man alive. He's so good sometimes its like his feet don't even touch the ground."

Stanley nodded sharply in approval. "Then you be good to him, too, alright?"

Lois thought back to her reaction to Lana and was never more grateful in her life that she'd held her temper. "That's the plan." Because even if Clark did choose Lois, she knew in a concrete way now that he had options, if he ever wanted to pursue them.

Clark stepped closer and held Lois' glass out to her. "There's a plan?"

"Of course," she answered without missing a beat, "but Uncle Stanley will never tell."

Clark laughed as he took his seat beside her again, and Stanley tipped his Smallville Co-op baseball cap to her.

They chatted for a little while longer, then some neighbor boys joined the crowd and organized a backyard football game. Of course Clark got voted to be quarterback, while Martha roped Lois into joining her, Emmie, and a few other women in a game of penny poker.

She was having so much fun that she didn't notice the hour until Clark came up behind her and squeezed her shoulders.

Lois looked up into his eyes, sparkling with joy from the game, and knew their time was up. Too bad. He was downright sexy when he was this happy. On the ride back to the farmhouse, Lois was only mildly irked that they were still being chaperoned. If she had to be stuck in a vehicle that included her, Clark, and a third wheel, at least that third wheel was Martha.

Her bag was already packed, so after a hug goodbye from Martha, Lois climbed into the Geo in the back yard and Clark lifted them into the sky. Turning their backs to the sunset, he flew them into the depths of night.

...

Clark landed them in an empty office lot and was dressed in street clothes before Lois had her seat upright again. It was raining and muggy and kind of...dingy after the sunshine and good honest dirt of the Kent farm. "I miss Kansas already," she said a bit wistfully as Clark opened the driver's side door.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I was your girlfriend there instead of just your coworker," she said, lest he start getting ideas about whisking them away to permanently farm the land, "and your mom's pretty amazing. Promise we'll visit again sometime."

"That I can promise, Miss Lane."

She grinned and he fired up the engine. It rattled to life and Lois couldn't help but chuckle to herself.

"Don't mock my wheels," Clark said, though it was through an amused smirk.

"No, it's the perfect disguise," Lois answered, failing miserably to keep a straight face. "No one will ever believe that someone who can spontaneously fly at supersonic speeds would drive a Geo."

He put it into gear and pulled out onto the street. "It's better than your ride."

That was true, since she didn't own a car, but still Lois' subconscious came up with three different comebacks (ranging from naughty to flirty) that she rejected each in turn. The hardest part of readjusting to Metropolis was going to be keeping it reasonably platonic at work. Instead, she took his hand in hers. "As long as we're together, I'm along for the ride, and I don't care about make or model."

"So...we're good?" Clark tentatively asked again.

"We're good," she assured him.

The drive was uneventful and before she knew it, she was unlocking her own door. Clark had insisted on carrying her duffle up to her apartment for her, and she took it from his hands. "I know you need to get to work, but..." Standing on her tiptoes, she planted the kind of kiss on him that usually left him staggered.

He didn't disappoint and she felt a thrill as he lurched back a step and leaned against the wall for support. Coming up for breath, she grinned to see the flush on his cheeks, his eyes closed (highlighting his unfairly-gorgeous lashes), and his broad chest rising and falling as he gulped unnecessary air. Bullets couldn't faze him, but she could – and she was the only one. "See you tomorrow," she said and kissed him on the cheek. Then she went into her apartment and locked the door before she could give into the growing temptation to haul him in after her.

Leaning with her back against the door, she slid down to sitting and let out a long, slow breath. "Back to the work – for both of us."