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Later, she'd blame it on the rough wind that brought them out, but that was a lie, and Natasha knew it. The tears left cold trails on her cheeks, but she didn't call attention by wiping them away. She nearly scoffed at his latter words, wanting to disabuse him of those notions, but she just couldn't force the words out.

She did try, several times, and finally stood up from the rock, recrossing her arms again. "It's not that, James," she told him, turning around to face him. "I don't care about ink or metal music, I never have. But, look at you! You're a celebrity, everyone on the planet knows your name! You're gorgeous, you're famous, you're richer than Solomon, you could have any woman you wanted!"

Natasha was staring at him now, trying to make him understand. "I'm the one who's...well, nobody! I don't have money, I don't have a famous last name, I don't even have any family! It just makes no damned sense at all that you'd ever want someone like me!"

"Love doesn't make sense, Natasha. You can't just write an equation for love. I don't fucking care where you came from or what your name is or if you're famous. You could be homeless and I'd still love you because you're you. You're beautiful, you're smart as hell, you're kind, you make me laugh...I don't care about anything else. It doesn't need to make sense."

Bucky sighs a little.

"And I don't want just any woman, I want you, and you don't want me. And it's okay. I'll heal. But I won't heal if I can't have you in my life somehow. Be my friend, stay in the guest house as long as you want. I burn for you, Natasha, and I have to extinguish the flame before everything catches fire. That's all. That's what I have to do. It's not your responsibility to make me kill my feelings off. It's mine."

After that, Natasha didn't really know what to say. Thankfully, it seemed they silently agreed to just finish the walk, and did so, Bucky whistling for Brooklyn and the two of them continuing on without speaking further. It was just...too painful, and she didn't have anything else to offer. She couldn't be what he wanted. What he deserved. And that hurt more than she was willing to admit.

Becca tried to cheer her up, of course, proposing shopping and trips into the city, but Natasha politely declined, and finally asked the girl to please give her some peace, as she was planning on going back to work soon and needed to catch up before actually heading back into her office. Wilson, as he'd promised, paid her for her work on Barnes' behalf, and it was a relief when she was officially no longer employed by the band's label as their PR rep.

Still, she was a little hesitant about returning to her office; Alex would surely try to corner her there, and she wasn't too surprised when, the third day after she'd returned to work, Alice called her desk and told her that Mr. Shostakov was in the foyer, waiting for her.

Alice sticks her head in and mouths "sorry" before Alex comes in and sits in one of the chairs in her office, taking up more space than his body even occupies. It's a talent of his, being larger than life in some ways, and he's more than utilizing it now. He hasn't seen Natasha since the night she'd left and he gives her a look.

"You disappeared. I tried to find you but apparently you didn't want to be found. Shocking, really, considering we're in a relationship."

He doesn't like being out of control and having Natasha simply be gone for all this time means he's not had control over her.

She didn't blame Alice. It wasn't the girl's place to get involved in this shit. Natasha closed her laptop when the blond pilot strolled in and sat down, as if he owned the goddamn place. She calmly laced her fingers together and rested her hands atop her desk; she wasn't going to be baited ever again.

"Hello, Alex." Calm, professional. Cold. "I apologize if I wasn't clear the night that I left. You and I are no longer in any sort of relationship, personal, professional, or otherwise." She gave him the full weight of her gaze, fine brows furrowed.

"Is that clear?"

"Not particularly considering I don't accept that," Alex says. "You're just confused and you wanted to get your head clear. You've had plenty of time to think it over and you just need to go ahead and come home. There's no point in continuing this."

To him, it's simple. Natasha is his and always has been and there's no reason for her to live anywhere besides their home. There's no reason for her to keep staying away.

"You've hidden pretty well. I haven't been able to find you at all."

Her eyes narrowed. "It doesn't matter if you accept it or not," she told him frostily. "I ended it, and that's that." It was tempting to start yelling at him like a fishwife, but Natasha refused to let herself be brought down to that level. Histrionics and hot tempers weren't going to solve anything. Not with this man.

She stood up, fingertips resting lightly on her desk.

"Now, I'm asking you to leave my office and this building before I call the police. I don't want to have to do it, but if you insist on harassing me in this manner, I'll file a restraining order against you, Alex. I've already pressed charges for the marks you left on my face."

That court date was coming up very soon, in point of fact.

"Now, you know I just lost my temper," Alex says smoothly. On the inside, though, he's raging. Filing a police report because he got angry one night? That's ridiculous. He exhales through his nose and gives her a look that's cold as ice.

"This isn't finished, Natasha. You're going to come home and we're going to be happy like we always were. You're going to withdraw that report, tell them that it was a misunderstanding, and we're going to go on as we always have. You proved your little point."

"Bullshit," she suddenly snapped, her own temper beginning to flare. Classic Alex, to just take anything and everything she said and ignore it as if she'd never said a word at all. Before, she'd always backed down whenever he began his fit of temper, but in her own office? Never.

"It is finished, Alexander. I'm never coming back there. And I'll never withdraw that report. You will never hurt me again, do you understand me? We. Are. Done." She hit a button on her desk phone, opening the line to Alice in the front office.

"And if you don't get out of here right now, I will have you arrested for trespassing and harassment, and then inform your commanding officer of your conduct unbecoming!"

"It's the guy with the tattoos, isn't it? Fucked you and made you his little groupie so now you think you're the one? You know that men like that can't be faithful. You're being ridiculous. You need to come home, Natasha."

Alex does leave, though, because the threat of being arrested and having his CO called is more than enough to make him get the hell out of there. Once he's gone, Alice comes back into her office.

"Do you want me to call someone for you?"

Thank God Alex left her office, but Natasha was shaking with rage when Alice hesitantly crept around the door, blinking at her. "No," Natasha snapped, then forced herself to calm down enough to speak rationally.

"No." She blew out a breath. "Thank you, Alice. But in the future, if he shows up here again, do not let him inside. Lock the door and call the police. I want him barred from the property." For-fucking-ever, she thought hotly, then snatched up her briefcase.

"Change of plans. Call a taxi for me, please? I'm done for the rest of the day. And the week, probably. Take yourself a long weekend, I'll compensate you for tomorrow." Thank God it was Thursday. "I'll call you about next week, I don't want you involved in this mess. Thank you, Alice." Natasha did manage a smile for the girl, and left her to close up the office.

She took the scenic route back to Malibu, because paranoia suggested Alex might have lingered around to follow her on the off-chance that she did leave, and had the cab drop her at one of the crab shacks near the beach. She called Becca to get a lift back to Bucky's place, but the girl was busy at her mother's, and to Natasha's dismay, Becca chirped that her brother was home and she'd let him know that Natasha needed a lift back to the house.

Becca had called him to go pick Natasha up at one of the numerous little places to eat along the beach and it's kind of weird (why wouldn't she just drive back to the house herself? Makes no sense) but there's been weirder in his life so he says he'll go. He decides since it's a nice day he'll take the Ferrari with the top down and when he pulls up, Natasha is easy to spot.

"Got told I was picking up a redhead. You know her?"

He tries to make it light and teasing but another glance shows that Natasha isn't...looking the best. Hmm. That's interesting. He has no idea what's going on but he can try to get to the bottom of it.

"C'mon, get in. You wanna go for a drive and talk about it?"

Even after the hour drive from the inner city out to Malibu, Natasha was still seething. How dare that pompous ass just waltz into her office and demand she go back to him as if everything was just as perfect as he claimed?! Her dark thoughts continued along this line until she spied a truly amazing sight, one Bucky Barnes pulling up in front of the shack, behind the wheel of a baby-blue Ferrari Portafino, the top down and engine purring like a happy kitten.

She gaped at him for a long minute; she hadn't even known he owned such a vehicle! But standing there with her mouth open wasn't helping her image or her temper, so she kicked herself into motion and slid into the beautiful leather seat, gently closing the door as she did.

"A drive sounds good," she muttered, unable to help running her fingertips over the car's gorgeous interior. "This is a beautiful car, James." Buckling her seat belt, she heaved a sigh and relaxed against the seat. "Alex showed up at my office," she said without preamble. "I threw him out, but I know he's going to be a problem."

Bucky's face twists into a scowl for a moment and his eyes go dark. "You know, I could probably teach him a lesson. I'd get my knuckles bloody for you, 'Tasha."

Knuckles and other things, besides, but he probably shouldn't push it since they'd established being friends and nothing more.

"How 'bout we go on a drive and you can tell me about it. I wasn't in the studio today so I have plenty of time just to ride around and listen if you want to tell me from top to bottom."

"All right."

She did, however, wait until they'd cruised out onto the PCH before relaying previous events, and trying to keep the profound anger out of her voice, and not quite succeeding. "He just...seems to believe that nothing happened, that I've had my little fit of temper, and I'll come toddling back home as if everything's just the way that it was."

In her lap, her hands clenched, and Natasha dialed back her irritation with effort. "I swear I'll have him arrested if he tries to get that close to me again," she swore. Then turned a sharp eye on her companion. "But you, sir, will not get any more involved, do you hear me? I exerted a lot of effort to get your reputation sterling again, and you're not going to throw away my hard work on that jackass."

Natasha even poked at his arm. "You hear me, James?"

"I got it, I got it. I'm just saying, I've hit people for less. I think he's a piece of shit and honestly, it would be a great pleasure to give him a little of what he gave you. But, because you worked so hard on me, I'll keep my fists to myself."

Bucky glances at her and has to bite back a compliment at how beautiful she looks. This is ridiculous. He's never getting over her.

"You're probably gonna say no if I ask you to stay in the main house for a couple days, aren't you? Cause you'd be safer up there, I think. I know it's safe everywhere but it'd just be one more layer of protection from that jackass."

"Well, since you asked nicely and agreed to stay out of it, I suppose I can for the weekend." She'd give him that small reward, at least. "But I'm staying in one of the guest rooms, all right?" Because temptation went both ways, dear God.

Natasha wasn't immune to the delicious image Bucky Barnes presented; reclined behind the wheel, left arm resting on the edge of the driver's door, dark hair tousled by the salty breeze, sunglasses thankfully obscuring those gorgeous blue eyes.

"I don't think he knows I'm all the way out here. But I've taken cabs to work this week because I don't want him getting a plate number or vehicle make. That's why I went to the crab shack, just now. I don't want him knowing where I am."

Yeah temptation was a hell of a drug. Natasha was dressed up for work and the blouse she’s wearing is a pale blue, just the way he likes, and her legs are bare and free from stockings. If they were together, he’d go park and run his hands up those smooth legs and push that skirt up, get his mouth on her and make her scream.

They’re not together.

When Natasha agrees to stay in one of his guest rooms, he’s glad for it. She’s better off up in the house until she can get a restraining order. He hadn’t known she’d been taking cabs all week, though, and he frowns slightly.

“I’ll pay for those cabs, thank you. If you don’t feel safe taking the BMW then at least let me foot the cabs for you.”

"James, you don't have to do that." He'd already spent too much on her as it was. Half of her wardrobe had been purchased with his credit card. "I can pay for my own transportation." Unable to help herself, she reached over and cupped his cheek, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb before pulling her hand away. "Don't worry about me, I can handle it."

She didn't want to be a further burden, she wanted to handle her own problems on her own, and she wanted to defend herself whenever it was necessary. Yes, it was sweet that he'd more than likely go to jail for her, or beat Alex to a pulp in her honor, but that wasn't what Natasha wanted. She just wanted the entire ordeal over with.

His cheek feels hot where she’s touched it and Bucky knows that he is never, ever getting over this woman while she’s in his life. When she says she doesn’t want him to pay for the cabs, he reticently agrees to it even though he wants to pay for everything and just take care of her.

“All right, all right. There’s a bunch of pull offs up here on the PCH if you want to park and just talk it out before we go home. This is my favorite cat to go cruise in, actually. She’s my best girl. I mean - don’t tell Becca I love this car more than her. She’ll take it the wrong way.”

They’re at a stoplight so he looks to Natasha to see what she wants to do.

Natasha chuckled at the light humor, but she had to admit that Bucky was right. This beautiful beast was entirely lovely; Natasha could definitely appreciate a classy vehicle. Truth be told, this particular car had long been one of her very favorites, but she'd never quite mustered up the courage to purchase one of her own.

"I won't, I promise. But sure, we can pull off for a bit and just...enjoy the afternoon." She didn't really want to go back right now, anyway. Alex's menacing shadow still lurked in the corner of her eye, and Natasha didn't want to sully Bucky's peaceful property with that paranoia.

"We can even take a walk on the beach, if you'd like. I can go barefooted, even if the sand's a little cold." It was winter, after all.

"Your toes will freeze," Bucky says, grinning at her. "Can't have that. Don't know how we'll warm 'em back up again. Besides, I haven't driven this car in a long time. It needs to stretch a little before I go home. You have to do that or they have issues with everything."

Bucky gives Natasha a look, openly appraising. She looks good and she always does but this little number does a lot for him.

"Socks when you get back," he says, deciding the beach walk would be nice. "Get your toes all warm again. Stick 'em in front of my fireplace."

"My toes will be just fine," Natasha smiled back, appreciating the silly humor. "I'll just make sure to stay out of the water, that's all." She wasn't so fragile as to freeze to death from a little walk on the cool sand in the afternoon sunshine. "But yeah, I'm taking tomorrow off, so curling up in front of the fireplace sounds like a great idea."

Then he mentioned the car, and her mouth melted in a soft little smile.

"I love this car," she mentioned, rubbing the dashboard reverently. "The Portafino has been one of my favorites forever, it seems like." Then she chuckled, shaking her head lightly. "But it's always been way out of my price range. And my job speaks to a more tailored mode of transportation, which is why I went for the Mercedes." A mild shrug.

"But there's something really appealing about all that power under the hood, too. Like it could fly, if it had the chance."

"You wanna drive 'er back home? Cause I got the keys and everything, imagine that. Shit, if I knew you liked this car, I would have let you take it forever ago. I barely drive it because it's a special occasions kind of car. It's my date car."

Annnnd he'd gone to pick her up in distress in it so he doesn't know what that says about him or the situation.

"I bought this baby so I could fly around curves on it. It's a pretty sexy car, all told, and my favorite color. C'mon, lets go for a walk and then when we're done you can drive back."

Natasha laughed, humor truly piqued. "Really? I'd love to." Just the thought of sliding into that leather driver's seat was enough to evaporate most of her sour mood, and it was a smiling redhead that pulled off her heels and swung bare legs out and onto the sand-dusted concrete.

"It is a sexy car," Natasha told Bucky, coming around the front of it to walk beside him. "Just the right color too, because it matches your eyes." Which were still shielded behind the glasses, but she didn't need to actually see them to know.

It was Thursday, and in the middle of the afternoon, so the public stretch of beach wasn't at all crowded, and there was plenty of room between the levy and the water to walk. Natasha kept her hands in her sleeves, idly wondering if any paparazzi might show up before they made it back to the car.

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