He shook his head.

"Nothing," he got up and stepped into his pants.

It was then that the baby started to cry, causing him to disappear without another word.

That was, however, how he was.

He was so devoted to Daniela that it made my heart happy.

As I waited patiently for him to come back, I contemplated my life over the last two years.

Thought about all that had changed for me, good and bad.

I had the man that I loved with all of my heart. A job that was so awesome I never once hated to go to it, and a family to come home to at the end of a long, hard day.

It was everything that I could have ever wanted, and everything that I never hoped to have.

"You sleeping baby?" Booth asked.

I opened my eyes, unaware that I'd closed them as I thought.

"Yeah," I whispered.

He leaned down and pulled me up to stand at the bottom of the bed.

"I love you," he told me softly, pressing his lips chastely against mine.

"I love you too, Booth," I sighed. "Thank you for coming home."

He chuckled.

"You were here. How could I not?"

What's next?

Vodka On The Rocks

Chapter 1.

7-6-16.

Tasha "Why the long face?" A man's deep voice jolted me out of my contemplation of the beer bottle in my hand.

I looked up to find him there.

Him being Casten Red, resident bad boy, biker dude.

The one that took delight in making sure he gave me a hard time.

I kind of liked it, though.

He didn't treat me with kid gloves.

Not like everyone else did.

"Nobody wished me a happy birthday," I lied.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Today is not your birthday," Casten called me on my lie.

I grinned.

"I know. I was just trying to get you to buy my beers for the rest of the night," I told him.

He tossed me a semi-annoyed look over his shoulder.

"Who bought you that one?" Casten asked.

I looked at the nearly empty bottle, then upended it to suck the last dregs down before I placed it on the bar in front of me.

I wiggled my eyebrows at George.

He held up a finger, and I nodded at him before I turned back to Casten.

"It was free, on account of me winning the first game of the season," I told him, pointing at George.

George's daughter was on my volleyball team, and she was quite possibly the best on the team.

Next year she'd be playing for a college team and, most likely, would be getting a full ride.

"Heard about that," Casten said, offering George a twenty-dollar bill. "Congratulations."

I smiled. "Thank you. Are you paying after all?" I asked teasingly.

I knew he wouldn't.

He didn't want me to get the wrong idea, so he never did anything for me.

Not even open a door.

Or willingly give me a ride on his bike.

Because that obviously signified a relationship in Casten Red's world.

Don't offer to hold the door for a woman, she may expect you to deposit some sperm in her so she can have your baby. Then you'll be tied down, married, with fifteen children, living in a commune with thirteen cats!

I might have over dramatized that thought, but seriously.

The man couldn't even bring me a to-go box the last time he'd gone out to dinner with the whole Uncertain Saint crew.

He'd been a dick.

But, then again, I wasn't the nicest lady, either.

"No. I'm not paying for you, something that I've already explained to you," he grumbled, taking a sip of his beer.

I smiled at George, then offered him a five out of my purse as he handed Mr. Storm Cloud, at my side, his change.

"Keep the change," I told George.

George smiled at me.

"Thanks, Coach."

"I've finally figured it out," Casten said.

I looked over at him with a 'well?' expression on my face.

He didn't smile.

In fact, I never saw him smile.

It was rare that I even saw anything on his face other than a blank expression.

"What's that?" I asked him when he waited for me to acknowledge him.

He turned back to the front, then lifted his hand and pointed at the mirror across the bar.

I looked into it, studying the two reflections.

Me, I was nothing special.

Tall with long limbs, my hair was a slight mess due to the run I'd just finished.

I had stray fly-away hairs surrounding the messy bun on top of my head.

My nearly black eyes took in my face.

I was still flushed, and I was sure the beer wasn't what I was needing at that moment in time, but I drank the hell out of it anyway.

I had on a black workout tank top that fit my small chest like a second skin.

I couldn't see my capri-length workout pants, but I knew if I had, they'd be just as tight as the top.

I didn't fit in at a bar.

The man at my side, though, did.

Casten was beautiful, in an 'I'm going to kill you' kind of way.

He had dark brown hair that was the typical cop haircut, shaved at the sides and longer on the top.

Gun metal gray eyes that pierced through your soul.

Strong jaw, straight nose, beautiful lips.

His chest was wide, and he was what I would describe as brawny.

He was wearing a tight black t-shirt underneath a flannel long-sleeved, button-up shirt. He had his Uncertain Saints leather vest over the top of that, and a pair of sunglasses hanging from the neck of his t-shirt.

His eyes watched me watch him.

"Well?" I asked him.

It was similar to poking a bear.

I didn't want to poke the bear, but my curiosity got the best of me, and I just couldn't help myself.

"Why you're acting like you don't give a fuck," he rumbled, answering my question finally.

I raised a brow at him.

"Oh, well then, please, enlighten me," I invited.

He shrugged, then explained.

"That guy over there was calling you a bitch," Casten said. "You were putting on an 'I don't care' face so he didn't see how much it bothered you."

I had what they called 'resting bitch face.'

It was biological.

I got it from my mother, and I had no control over it.