Part 2 ~ And once Ben gets an idea in his head...

“I’ve not seen the Mountie around so much,” Lieutenant Welsh observed one afternoon after Ray had finally ceased the circular explanation about his latest case. “If I had…” He suggestively flapped the case folder in question at Ray.

“Yeah,” said Ray slowly, “he’s gone…”

“Home?”

“…completely insane.”

Welsh, highly perplexed, considered for a moment.

“How can you tell?”

“There are signs,” Ray sighed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Nodding sagely, the Lieutenant waved Ray from his office, just in case there was any risk of him going into detail.

Back at his desk, Ray reached for the phone, hesitated, then slumped back in his chair. He opened the file in front of him, scanned the top page and didn’t take a thing in, then closed it again. Irritated by his own lack of action, he set the file aside and picked up the phone.

“This is Detective Vecchio of the 27^th. I’m carrying out a wolf welfare check.”

“Good morning, Detective, I can report that Diefenbaker is fit and healthy, and not quite so ill-disciplined and overfed now that a certain police officer is notable by his absence.”

“Pick you up in twenty?”

“Thank you, Ray, I’d appreciate that.”

“Not asking what for?”

“Clearly not.”

“I’ll get something for Dief on the way.”

In the Riv, wolf in the back seat chomping down on a highly inappropriate sprinkle doughnut, Ray dropped his case file on Ben’s lap.

“Even Welsh knows you solve all my cases. So…?”

“Hello, Ray,” Ben smiled, studying the first page.

“Hey, Benny.” A pause stretched out between them. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Ben assured without looking up. “I behaved completely inappropriately, and I can only apologise.”

Ray finally turned to look at his friend, studying the handsome profile and, despite hating to acknowledge it, knowing something had shifted. When they’d first met it had taken time, and a great deal of self-reproach, to get to a point of Ben being acknowledged as romantically out of bounds; the fantasies had stopped and Ray had forced himself to embrace their platonic relationship. Although, if Ray was honest with himself, there’d been so many times that, if he’d dared drop so much as a hint, he suspected Ben would have picked it up and run with it. ‘What he had to lose’ was in a frenzied battle with ‘what he’d have to gain’ if he – they – took a chance. Stupid, stupid idea. Ray shook it off, but still felt he owed Ben a tiny bit of honesty.

“I’ve missed you.”

Ben appeared to stop breathing for a moment, then snapped back to normal.

“There’s nothing much to this case at all. This particular man is clearly telling the truth, and if he’d been listened to, everything else would fall into place.”

“Which man?”

“Sidney Bates.”

“No. That dirtbag?”

“Dirtbag he may be, but…”

“How do you know he’s telling the truth?”

“Because he’s accidentally admitting to a far more serious crime in the same sentence as denying this one.”

“What? Where?”

Ben indicated a paragraph in the man’s statement that was so convoluted and back to front, Ray had given up trying to decipher the indecipherable. Ben ran his finger along a single sentence.

“Nah, he’s just…just…” Ray blinked and processed. “Oh, fu—”

…

“Because he’s accidentally admitting to a far more serious crime in the same sentence as denying this one,” Ray explained to Lieutenant Welsh.

“If you’re right…” Holding the file open, Welsh looked to where Ray was pointing and followed his finger across the damning sentence. Once, twice, then he got it. Welsh and Ray exchanged a look full of furious expletives. “This is a mess,” Welsh acknowledged as he steeled himself to pass the buck. “And bigger than us. I’m handing it over to the FBI.”

“And when they’re done, we can wipe the floor with whatever’s left of Bates’ crew.”

Welsh agreed and retreated behind his desk, already reaching for the phone.

“Mountie back?”

“Coincidentally,” Ray replied, blasé to the last.

…

Ben was exhausted. It was easier to track a criminal over any series of rooftops than it was to spend sixty minutes pretending his relationship with Ray hadn’t been derailed. Picking sprinkles out of Diefenbaker’s whiskers he considered the future, and for the umpteenth time he told himself that Ray was right. Why risk the precious stability of everything they had in pursuit of a ‘what if’?

He and Ray had spent an hour together. The consultation regarding Ray’s case had taken minutes, and for the remainder of the time they’d parked up at a café, picked up lunch, and chatted awkwardly like distant co-workers who couldn’t avoid one another on a train station platform. Ray dropped Ben back at the Consulate with his thanks, but no definite plans to meet up again. Ray had almost asked if Ben wanted a lift home later, but it was obvious, too painfully obvious, that he’d thought better of it.

Still, Ray couldn’t avoid him forever.

Okay, actually, yes, he could, but Ben was ready to take action. Just as soon as he worked out what that action could possibly be.

…

A few days after his oddly difficult lunch date with Ben, Ray left his home early and noticed the flag up on the mailbox. Thinking that he was somehow running late, he checked his watch. Nope, usual time, and too early for their regular mail man. Opening the hatch, he pulled out a tidily wrapped package, suspiciously turning it over in his hands to find any indication of who and where it was from. ‘Ray,’ a label said in the Mountie’s distinctive handwriting, ‘this is not a bomb’. Ray laughed to himself and dropped the package into his pocket.

It was much later in an unusually hectic day when Ray remembered the gift, leaving the station house and falling into the driver’s seat of the Riv with a heaved breath of relief. He looked at the package’s message again, laughed again, and started to carefully unwrap. Inside was a flat box that he immediately prised open, finding a woven leather friendship bracelet that carried a tiny tag with barely visible writing stating ‘handmade, with love, BF’. It almost melted his icy resolve. Almost.

He closed the box. Opened the box. Removed the bracelet. Replaced the bracelet. Removed the bracelet. Tried it on. Admired it and nodded to himself as he accepted it was very nicely made and the tone of the leather suited him. Took it off and put it back in the box. Put the box in the glove compartment of the Riv.

The door was open and he was one foot outside when he brought his foot back in, slamming the door, taking out the box, then the bracelet, sliding it back onto his wrist and leaving it there, but tucking it higher under his sleeve. He’d need to keep the bracelet hidden, he accepted: forget his fellow detectives, his sisters were as observant, perceptive, and as downright nosy as he was, and this was a subject that in no way needed a cross examination. The car door opened and shut again before he pulled out his cell phone.

“Canadian Consulate, Constable Fraser speaking.”

“Benny…why?”

“Excuse me?”

“I appreciate it because it’s always nice to get a present, but… It’s too sentimental.”

“It’s about friendship. If it makes you feel sentimental, that’s your problem, not mine. I know exactly where I stand.”

There was an edge to that sentence that grated over Ray’s nerves. It reminded him of just how badly he didn’t want to lose his best friend.

“Yeah, you’re right, my problem. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Always.”

“Listen…”

“You know,” Ben quickly interrupted, “I don’t solve all of your cases, that’s clearly erroneous and I should have corrected you when you said it.”

“You solved that one. All the Feds know who the Mountie is now.”

“You’re an excellent detective. I think on this occasion, you were simply…distracted.”

“Of course I was.”

“By me.”

“Yes, you, it’s always you!”

“I hope you don’t expect me to object to that.”

Ray considered, did and didn’t like the first answer that popped into his head, and regrouped.

“How about we do something at the weekend? Something that doesn’t lead to anything, just… Something.”

“I’m afraid I’m busy. Under the circumstances I felt it wise that I should be distracted too.”

“You made plans?”

“Yes.”

“Without me?”

“I thought it advisable.”

There was a substantial, loaded pause.

“You need a lift?”

“Thank you, but no.”

“Is this anything I should worry about? ‘Cause I’ve never known anyone like you, you can get into trouble looking at paintwork, and if I’m not there…”

“Nothing to worry about, Ray. A man needs hobbies. Like leather weaving.”

“Okay,” Ray accepted with more caution than was perhaps expected when faced with a perfectly capable adult exploring craftwork.

“I’m afraid I have to g—”

“You were the one who said our friendship wasn’t going to be damaged by what happened,” burst out of Ray before he could stop it. “And it didn’t even happen!”

“Nothing’s substantially changed, Ray, I’m merely…giving us some space.”

“I don’t want space, I want us to be back to normal.”

“Yes, well, we don’t always get what we want.”

Ben broke into the empty space that followed his horribly honest statement with a polite goodbye, and Ray sat staring at his phone for several seconds, barely resisting the temptation to hurl it out of the window. He couldn’t even blame Ben for this – it was his own stupid fault for being honest when the question of Willoughby’s interest arose. Why didn’t he lie? He was great at lying when it came to this stuff, it was almost as if he—

“Oh, shit.”

Almost as if he wanted Ben to know there were…possibilities.

“No, no, no,” Ray chastised himself, finally out of the car and heading back to the welcome diversion of work.

He’d give Ben his space, allow both of them a chance to reset, and then… Normality had a good ring to it. Leave the Mountie to his own devices for a few days, a week even, and, if he didn’t manage to get himself into any serious trouble, everything would go back to normal. Because normal was the perfect setting. Perfect.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit…”

Ben sat behind his desk feeling both content and unsettled with their interaction. Content that Ray had acknowledged the sentiment behind the gift, and unsettled because it felt manipulative, and that was the last thing Ben wanted to be. Or was it, if it worked?

Still, on a positive note, Ray’s interest had been piqued, and engaging an insatiably curious Ray Vecchio was as manageable as defrosting a Western Toad.

“Ah, yes, that would be an Anaxyrus boreas,” Ben explained to Diefenbaker, before abruptly recalling the conversation about the snowshoes. After a moment of retrospective bafflement he shook his head and moved on: some people just didn’t know what they were missing.

…

Bright and early on Saturday morning, Ray was lurking across the street from Ben’s apartment house. Leaving Ben to his own devices for a few days had proved harder than he imagined, because what he imagined usually ended with Ben plummeting off a roof or into a frosty river, or simply being locked somewhere inaccessible, escape from which would require a ridiculous solution of the variety that surely only presented itself when he was accompanied by Ray. That was, astonishingly, their life. Utter madness. And Ray loved it.

It was still chilly out, and Ray missed the Riv, having decided the car was far too identifiable, so he had to carry out this reconnaissance on foot. He’d spent the previous evening convincing himself that this wasn’t stalking, this was looking out for a pal. And, obviously, as was the Vecchio way, it was in his nature to be curious, some might even say suspicious on this occasion. You didn’t get far as a cop if you didn’t want answers, and Ray…wanted answers. Because he was looking out for a pal.

Of course he was.

Shortly before he froze to the spot, Ben left his building and turned a sharp left, setting off at a determined pace, and oblivious to the cop making a studied show of minding his own business who followed at a non-suspicious distance. Ray was starting to get concerned about how he’d cope if Ben hopped on a bus, but he was relying on the Mountie’s irritating need to travel by foot if not ensconced in the Riv.

Another left turn, and a right, and a left again, and Ray was beginning to question the sanity of this as he hurried to keep up with his target, sense of direction completely thrown now as they took to alleys and back passageways. An outsider would have observed this as being what is colloquially termed a merry dance, but Ray was single-mindedly focused. He was just beginning to suspect that Ben’s leather working studio was a cover for a criminal mastermind’s hidden lair, when he took a corner without due care and attention, and walked slap bang, face to face, into Ben, almost taking him off his feet, and grabbing at him to keep them both vertical.

Ben was quite satisfied by the proximity, but it only took a few seconds for Ray to back off and adopt an air of unbelievable nonchalance.

“Hey, Benny.”

“This is quite the coincidence,” Ben said pointedly.

“I was about to say the same thing, I was just headed…” Ray took a look around at the grimy dead end he’d found himself in. “Where the hell are we?”

“You’re completely predictable, Ray.”

“I am…” Ray’s bluster failed as quickly as it had started, “…so.”

“What were you hoping to find?”

“You, not in trouble, just for a start.”

“Do I look like I’m in trouble?”

“Not yet, but we know how this works. You attract trouble like a doughnut box attracts a wolf.” With a frown, Ray looked around. “Where is Dief?”

“He had private plans for the weekend, I didn’t want to intrude.”

At the unsubtle reprimand Ray scowled at Ben.

“Look, we had a misunderstanding, it doesn’t stop me worrying, it doesn’t stop me caring.”

“What, precisely, did you misunderstand?”

“Can we get back to civilisation?” Ray sidestepped the question. “Before we’re fatally assaulted by vermin? And for once I’m not talking the human variety.”

“You were determined not to see my point when you visited Willoughby, and yet…”

“Is that what this is all about?” Ray asked sceptically. “You’re actually on some undercover assignment for the Consulate?” Ray paused for thought, mentally groping for a suitable example of what that might entail. Nah, he had nothing. “Benny?”

“You’ve quite expertly missed the point,” Ben said snippily, starting to head back the way they’d come.

“Oh no, I get the point,” Ray corrected as he pursued Ben. “There’s just no comparison.”

“Correct, it would be ridiculous of you to be wary of a craft class.”

Ray came to a halt. After several more steps, Ben noticed and turned back. Ray shrugged, started to speak, stopped. And shrugged.

“All right. I know you’re perfectly capable of looking after yourself, but sometimes you just…don’t.”

“Much like you when you met Willoughby.”

The glare-off lasted several long seconds.

“Yeah,” Ray finally had to admit. “All we’re missing is the shrubbery.”

Ben smiled at that, both amused, and satisfied that a point had been made.

“Coffee?”

“Would be good.”

“I bought a percolator.”

“Think you’re going to seduce me with a classic roast?”

“Probably faster than any other method.”

Ray laughed, and Ben smiled, and suddenly everything felt normal. They fell in beside one another, shoulder to shoulder as they headed back to Ben’s apartment.

“So where is the wolf?”

Ben whistled and Diefenbaker dashed around the nearest corner, ready for action, or at least on the lookout for his next snack.

“Oh, look, a miracle! You still think he’s deaf?”

“Of course.”

“So, what? He’s telepathic?”

“Possibly alerted by vibrations in the air. You see, Ray, there’s something called vibrotactile sensation, and…”

“Do you honestly believe a word you’re saying?”

“Naturally. The last person I’d lie to is myself.”

“We both know that’s a lie.”

“But, technically, it’s you I’m lying to.”

…

Ray thought the weekend had gone well. Ben had seemingly forgotten his rapid onset desire for his friend, and that had allowed them to re-establish a harmless, platonic camaraderie. If Ray had experienced the occasional qualm when Ben looked at him in a certain way, or laughed at one of his jokes, then…tough. Sometimes you got what you wanted even though you had the slightest inkling it wasn’t what you wanted at all.

Ben, meanwhile, was just thinking…about Ray.

…

Tuesday morning and Ray once again found the flag on the mail box indicating a delivery, once again too early for the regular mailman. Today’s parcel was rectangular, wrapped with precision, and the label read, “Ray. This is also not a bomb”. That still made him laugh and, despite trying to play this totally cool, he only managed to drive a single block before he was pulling over to open Ben’s gift.

A far fancier box than the last, and Ray carefully lifted the lid off to reveal a beautiful silk tie. He ran his fingertips over the pleasantly tactile material and, with a jolt, suddenly recognised the colour. How did he know this blue was the exact shade of Ben’s eyes without having to question it for a moment? And why did the prospect of Ben having to ask a sales assistant for assistance in colour matching turn him an unbecoming envious green around the edges?

In his mind he could see a beautiful woman – because, oh, my God, there were always beautiful women wanting to help Benny out – gazing into Ben’s eyes for far longer than necessary and then… Well, of course she’s slipping him her number.

Reminding himself of Ben’s laughable obtuseness when it came to being hit on, Ray shook off the mental picture he’d created and concentrated on the tie. It was exactly the sort of special gift he’d normally keep to wear for best.

“Like that’s going to happen,” Ray said to himself in the rear view mirror, loosening and removing his present tie, and replacing it with the new one.

He ran his hands over it multiple times, and he thought of Ben choosing it for him, and those awkward fantasies just had to pop their heads up. Somewhere along the way the fantasies had morphed from the purely erotic, to simple little dreams of going home to Ben and not having to leave at night, parking up somewhere dark and secluded and being free to exchange loving kisses, visiting the cabin in Canada and making the most of all that glorious isolation to simply allow them to wander hand in hand. The frustrated romantic in him could’ve cried.

With a sigh he mentally shuffled back to real life, starting the car and heading for work, wondering what to say when he next spoke to Ben. Stop, obviously. Just…stop. Then again, he’d recently insisted that Ben stop something else and he might now be regretting that. Or he might not, because he was a sensible, realistic man. Or…

He’d tell Ben to stop. Everything. Just stop.

“Like that’s going to happen,” Ray repeated rather smugly, as he admired his new accessory in the mirror. He frowned. It would go much better with one of his other suits, he realised, and it took all of his willpower not to go home and change.

Apparently, all of his willpower was good for three minutes.

…

Ray’s day was going non-controversially well, and he was almost uncomplainingly catching up with his paperwork when one of the station’s beat cops wandered over.

“Hey, Ray, I just saw the Mountie in the ER and…”

Ray was out of the room before the man could finish his sentence.

Hurtling into the local hospital, somehow managing to gaze in all directions at once, Ray finally caught sight of Ben and raced over to him, lucky enough to find the seat next to him free and collapsing into it, wheezing to catch his breath.

“Are you ill?” Ben asked with immediate concern.

“Are you?” Ray gasped in return.

“Asthma?”

“You have asthma?”

“No, you sound like you’re struggling to breathe.”

“I just broke the three minute mile from the overflow parking lot, that’s why.”

“What’s wrong?”

“That’s my question.”

“Why… Oh, I see. One of my neighbours took a bad tumble on the stairs this morning and I’m waiting for her to be discharged so I can take her home.”

Ray couldn’t decide how to feel about that.

“But I— You— When— I have to have a word or seven with Art Finnegan,” he growled.

“Who, and why?”

“He’s a beat cop and…”

“I did see an officer and gave him a wave.”

“He told me you were in here and I panicked.”

“Why?”

“Because there are times this place has been like a second home to you, and…”

“You thought I was hurt.”

“Yes!”

“But he didn’t say…”

“No.” Ray thought back to not letting Officer Finnegan finish what he was saying. “I may have…overreacted.”

“That’s not like you, Ray,” Ben said with a suspiciously straight face, and a complete inability to meet Ray’s eyes as he said it.

For just a split second Ray wanted to punch Ben squarely on his perfect nose, but instead he shook his head as he slumped back in his seat.

“You’re okay,” he confirmed.

“Perfectly well. But as you’re now here…?”

One glance at the Mountie and Ray’s determination to remain uninvolved disintegrated.

“Yes, okay, I’ll give you and…?”

“Martha.”

“…Martha a lift.”

“Thank you kindly.”

Ray noticed Ben notice the tie and suppress a smile.

“Thank you, I love the tie, but you have to stop doing this.”

“What? Appreciating you?”

“Oh, right, is that what it is?”

“You’re here, unbidden, in the middle of a work day, you’ve offered Martha the comfort of a lift home, why am I wrong to appreciate you?”

“Is that all it’s about?” Ben hesitated. “Yeah, couldn’t see how you’d lie your way out of that one.”

“How about a thank you? You allow me to take advantage of your kindness…”

“Oh, I allow that, do I? You don’t just do it?”

“That implies you don’t enjoy it. You complain because it’s in your nature to be loud, but underneath all of the bluster you have the kindest heart.”

That took the wind out of Ray’s sails, forcing him to stop and think. He currently didn’t want to stop and think, he wanted to complain because it was apparently in his nature to be loud.

“No-one else thinks I’m kind,” he pointed out as if it was any kind of defence.

“Your family adore you in a comparably loud and blustery way.”

“Family,” Ray dismissed despite the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest, “they owe me.”

“I also— Martha!”

They stood at the sight of Ben’s aged neighbour being escorted toward them.

“She shouldn’t be living on the second floor when the elevator never works,” Ray said crossly. “She has all the natural grace of an aardvark, stairs are a cruel and unusual punishment.”

“See?” Ben replied. “Your own particular brand of kindness.”

…

Martha safely escorted to her apartment, Ben taking a list of what she’d eventually need from the store to get her through a few days of house rest, the two men strolled back to the Riv.

“Want a lift anywhere?”

“No.”

Ray rolled his eyes at Ben once again turning down his offer.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh. Okay. That makes sense,” Ray acknowledged. “When are you working?”

“Later. There’s a special reception.”

“You’re not free this evening?”

“No. Did you have something in mind?”

Ray shrugged, feeling like a needy boyfriend, which he absolutely wasn’t, needy or boyfriend, there was nothing going on here, nothing at all.

“Ray?”

“Have a good time tonight. Stay out of trouble. And if there’s trouble…”

“I’ll call you.”

“I was going to say leave me out of it, but that works too.”

They exchanged a long look, until Ray forced himself away. Ben watched him leave and smiled softly to himself. Ray really did look good in that tie.

…

Well, the evening went true to form and, as Ray helped escort three handcuffed burglars to a couple of awaiting patrol cars, noisily explaining why they couldn’t have picked a worse night to break into a property directly behind the Consulate, Ben wandered along behind at a funereal pace, cradling the smouldering remains of his Stetson.

“You okay, Benny?”

“It’s always such a shock when it happens.”

“You have spares though?”

“I was particularly fond of this one.”

“They’re identical.”

“To the untrained eye.”

“But it went out in a blaze of glory. Literally.”

“I’m failing to see the humour.”

“It was magnificent, the Canadian equivalent of a Viking funeral. A flaming Stetson that flew like a Frisbee? No wonder they were too shocked to put up much of a fight.”

Ben sighed and laid the charred brim of his beloved hat to rest in the nearest trash can.

“Do you want to say a few words?” Ray asked with outrageously fake sympathy, and couldn’t fight the smirk when he saw Ben appear to consider his suggestion. Letting out the saddest sigh, Ben turned and began to walk in the direction of home, leaving Ray feeling abruptly guilty for his teasing. He quickly caught up and, taking Ben’s arm, swung him in the direction of the Riv.

By the time they were back at Ben’s apartment, Ray had managed to cheer his companion up a little, with talk of the faithful Stetson’s outstanding sacrifice, barely stopping short of the suggestion that songs would be written of its heroism and sung for generations around Inuit campfires. The observation, ‘you were never going to duck in time, so better the hat than your hair’ was highly valuable under the circumstances.

Ray made a point of admiring the new percolator, but kept in mind the seductive power of a decent mug of coffee. Further along the counter top was yet another neatly wrapped package. Of course, Ray was immediately dying to ask, but knew he had to act casual, and that… Wasn’t about to happen.

“Is that for me?” he nodded in the package’s direction.

“Perhaps,” Ben answered as he handed over the inaugural brew.

“What? You have other people you’re—” Ray stopped short, not quite sure of how to describe what Ben was doing.

“Appreciating?” Ben helped out.

“Appreciating,” Ray accepted.

“No. But I think you know that.”

Ray eyed up the package.

“Is this one a bomb?”

Ben chuckled at that.

“I suppose the timing would be still more important if that were the case.”

“Hmm… Timing… Am I doing something to earn this stuff? Something particular?”

“I’m not about to enter into twenty questions about…”

“What did I do to earn the other gifts?”

“As I said…”

“How do I get that one sooner? Now I know it’s there it’s going to drive me crazy trying to guess what it is.”

“You won’t guess,” Ben told him firmly, a hint of a smile behind his words.

“Can I…”

Ray headed toward the package, hand outstretched; Ben whisked it away and into a drawer before he got within a foot of it.

“No.”

Almost cross but also enjoying the tease, Ray settled at the table with his coffee, took a sip, and tipped his mug as a toast to the Mountie and his belated good coffee choice. Ben brought his tea over and sat opposite.

“I always used to be able to guess every Christmas present just by feel,” Ray said as he enjoyed a moment of nostalgia. “Back in the day when it was exciting kid’s presents. Not so much of a challenge nowadays: shirt, socks, aftershave.” He ran his fingers over the silk tie he’d refused to take off after the day’s shift. “This is what you’re turning into, Benny.”

“And that is?” Ben frowned.

“Very smooth.”

“Actually…” Ben laid his hand on the table as an offer, “…the grain’s still discernible if you care to feel.”

Their eyes met, and just for the teeniest moment Ray’s resolve teetered on being blown to pieces. The internal battle was very real as he gathered up the remnants of his common sense and shoved them together in a scrappy pile.

“I thought you’d got over all that.”

“Hardly.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

The look on Ben’s face was more ‘challenge accepted’ than ‘contrite acceptance’ and, hell’s bells, it was alluring. Ray’s gaze slid from Ben’s eyes down to his mouth, just as he was provocatively flicking his tongue over his lower lip, sending a highly inappropriate tingle of interest to places that should absolutely not have been tingling. Ray diverted his focus, finished his coffee, and stood to leave.

“Running away again?” Ben asked.

“Smooth just degenerated into rough,” Ray said as coolly as he could manage. “I’m trying to save you from yourself and you’re taking pot shots at your best friend.”

Ben drew breath to apologise, and then…didn’t. Because he wasn’t sorry about what he wanted, and he wasn’t about to lie to Ray. Although…

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“This is your own fault. If you hadn’t been so damn well honourable to start with, we’d have dealt with this two weeks after you turned up. But we can’t turn back time, and you know what? However tempting it would be, I wouldn’t want to lose the rest of what we have just for a quick f—” Ray took a deep breath. “How about that? I respect you too much to call it what it would have been.”

“And what would it be now?”

Good question, Ray had to admit to himself. Just before he ran away again.

…

Impatient days followed, when the flag on the mail box refused to rise, and Ray grumped and grouched his way into work, and through his day, and back at home in the evenings, until work colleagues were keeping out of his temperamental way and even his battle-honed sisters were rolling their eyes and unsympathetically abandoning their brother to his moodiness.

“Am I wrong?” Ray asked himself in the mirror as he admired the silk tie, and shook the leather bracelet out from under his sleeve. “Am I being stupid over this?”

“Stop mumbling to yourself, moron,” came from the next room, and Ray didn’t even have the heart to start an enjoyable slanging match with Francesca.

He shut up and paced, and reasoned with himself. Thinking and rethinking the situation.

Worst thing of all? The fact that he suspected Ben was elsewhere enjoying this. And, quite perversely, it made Ray smile. The Mountie was so far under his skin at this stage it was ridiculous. Was saying no to him pointless and simply a waste of their time? Didn’t the Mounties always get their man? That was so corny he wanted to kick himself in the head, but instead he tried to calm down. Calm would be good. Productive.

If he showed a little emotional restraint maybe he could get to Ben the way that Ben was getting to him. After all, the last thing anyone expected was a measured and unflappable Ray Vecchio.

Okay, he had a plan, and he was interested to know if he could follow through. Of course he could. Just so long as Ben let him know what was in that damn package.

The Rough with the Smooth 3       The Rough with the Smooth Index       Notes

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