AN: This story begins with two stories, seemingly unrelated, that we will tell concurrently. Gradually, the stories will merge into a single tale, bringing both Ranger's and Stephanie's past into their married present. How they deal with it will determine the fate of their individual and collective happiness. This story's title is paraphrased from a Billy Ray Cyrus song. Main characters belong to Janet Evanovich. Not making any money from this.

CHAPTER 1

Eighteen years ago in Newark, New Jersey

As she bustled around the kitchen, she was glad spring was finally here. Preparing her father's favorite breakfast, a cold spread of bread, cheese and Ibérico ham, didn't require her to turn on the oven, which helped to warm the small kitchen in the winter. The only hot thing was the bica, but the coffee maker didn't put out much heat. She set the tiny demitasse cups, one for her and one for her father, on the tray along with the small pitcher of milk and the sugar bowl.

Espresso was the one luxury her father refused to give up, no matter how hard the times were. She knew, for him, it was more than just a matter of taste, it was one of connection. Connection to his roots, his parents—long gone, but not forgotten. To her father, bica was essential Portuguese, especially when one's parents had run a coffeehouse in Lisbon.

"Dad! Breakfast is ready. Get down here!" she shouted. She grinned as she heard his feet hit the floor above her. Minutes later, she heard the toilet flush and the water running. Two minutes for his shower, one for a shave and another two to get dressed. He'd rush in in five minutes, complaining that he'd be late to open up the shop. He was never late, and the café downstairs would open on time, as usual.

True to form, five minutes later, Tomas Silva rushed into his kitchen, leaned down and kissed his daughter on the cheek and started to pour the bica. His daughter lightly slapped his hand away.

"I'll do it. You sit down and eat," she scolded him.

As he folded his large frame onto a bench tucked between the small kitchen table and the wall, he instructed, "Just a splash of milk and cut the sugar in half." He patted his swelling paunch. "The doctor told me I had to lose ten pounds by Portugal Day."

"Portugal Day! You couldn't just say 'by June 10th'?" she complained. "Anyone listening to you would think you still lived in Portugal."

"The Ironbound is Portugal," he teased. "If you mention Newark, and especially the Ironbound District, to anyone in Portugal they know exactly where you are talking about. Newark might as well be called New Portugal." He gave his daughter a critical look. "You're aren't wearing that to school. Go change, Renie."

Corrine looked down at her clothes. The jeans were a little tight and had some holes in places better left unexposed, and the sweater was cut a little low. But the Doc Martens fit well. She knew better than to argue with him. Nodding, she trudged upstairs.

Tom Silva sighed to himself as he sipped espresso. Raising a young daughter alone hadn't been easy and it was only getting harder. They'd weathered the first bra dilemma and the bloodbath fiasco, as Renie called it. As a man, he'd hated that trip to the drugstore to buy those first emergency feminine products. He was unbelievably relieved when she was old enough to buy them herself.

And she had grown up to become a beautiful young woman ... well, nearly, he mused. She was small for her age, but feisty. She was the spitting image of her mother, though Tom had learned to never compare Renie to her mother. As far as his daughter was concerned, her mother didn't exist. She was perfectly happy with just the two of them. Renie would always be his little girl, but he had to face the fact that she was nearly eighteen, and soon she would be going away to college. At least, if he had anything to say about it. But his nearly grown daughter was headstrong and rebellious. Once, they'd been inseparable, but now she seemed to be growing farther away and spending way too much time with that gang of ruffians. He shook his head and snorted in disgust. Maybe he'd have a little back alley talk with that Jax character who seemed to be the leader. Convince him to leave his daughter alone. He had big plans for Corrine, and they didn't include jail time, which was what that disreputable band of no-gooders was heading toward.

Twenty minutes later, as she rushed downstairs and through the café, her father shouted at her. "Hold up, Renie." With her lips pursed and her brows furrowed, she turned and waited for his inspection. He gave her the once-over and waved his hand in dismissal, and then smiling, called out, "Tenha um bom dia, querida." [Have a good day, sweetheart.]

As Corrine left the café, she darted around the corner and into the alley. Scrunching down behind the dumpster, she removed her backpack and pulled out the pair of ripped jeans she'd been wearing earlier. When she left the alley, with her blonde hair teased up, her makeup reapplied, and her clothes too revealing, her look proudly proclaimed her to be one of the disenfranchised, a teenager on the edge. Her father certainly wouldn't approve, but what he didn't know, wouldn't hurt him, she mused.

It was nearly evening by the time Corrine returned home. She'd intended to change her clothes in the alley again before entering the café, but those plans died when she saw all the police cars parked at odd angles in front of her father's store. Her heartbeat quickened and a lump rose in her throat as she ran for the front door. A policeman caught her before she could open it.

"Whoa there, kid. You can't go in there. It's a crime scene," he told her, easily turning her slight frame away from the big plate glass window.

"But my father's in there. I have to see my father!" she cried.

"Is your father Tomas Silva?" he asked.

She nodded, struggling to break his hold on her shoulders and trying to see around him.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but your father ... your father is dead. We think he was shot during a robbery. Neighbors said they saw some gang members leaving the diner. Is there someone we can call? Your mother, a family member?"

She looked up at him, not comprehending at first. The cop repeated, "Is there someone, an adult, we can call for you?"

She shook her head. "I want to see my father," she demanded, twisting and turning under the cop's firm grip. "Let me see him ... please," she almost whispered the last word.

"I'm really sorry, miss. I can't let you in there. C'mon over here and sit down," he said, trying to lead her over to his patrol car.

Corrine struggled even harder and, in desperation, kicked the officer in the shins. He let go and she raced to the front door, just as two men in dark jumpsuits pushed a gurney through the door. The gurney was covered with a large bulging black body bag.

Corrine took a step back and, with a hand over her mouth, let out a single sob.

Present Day Trenton, New Jersey

Cool gray eyes watched as they exited the bakery and walked the short distance to the sports car. Stephanie looked good, even better than she used to. She was holding a box carefully level in front of her. Doughnuts, no doubt. She'd always had a thing for doughnuts. There'd been a man before him, but the guy with her wasn't from her past. This guy was obviously her future.

The future raised his head suddenly and looked in his direction. He flattened himself against the wall, mostly certain that his position was hidden. It wouldn't do to be seen yet. The element of surprise was going to be important. He wanted to catch her unaware, with her defenses down. She had to be alone. That was crucial to the success of his plan, so he'd been watching and waiting.

She left the big house, mansion really, every morning to go to the building on Haywood Street, but never at the same time. And not usually alone. Time was running out. He needed to make his move soon.

…..

Ranger watched the partially hidden figure in the side mirror as Stephanie balanced the box on her knees and buckled her seat belt. He reached over and lifted the box off her lap and held it, resting one end on the dash. He wouldn't have taken the Boxster if he'd known about her plan to buy Tasty Pastry doughnuts.

"I need to call Tank," he told her. "There's something I forgot to tell him about staffing. Would you run back in and get me a bottle of water while I call him, and then we can be back on the road?"

"Sure, but if you don't want me to hear, I can just stick my fingers in my ears."

"Babe."

She smiled at him, unhooked her seat belt and slipped out of the car.

Ranger didn't move his head, but his eyes once again focused on the mirror. He picked up his phone and made the call.

"He's watching her from the Tasty Pastry. This was an unscheduled stop, so he must be following us, but I didn't pick up a tail."

"You think he's watching her and not you, or both of you?" Tank asked.

"He's watching her." The man's attention had been focused on Stephanie as she reentered the shop.

"I'm less than five minutes away. I'll get him."

"Okay," Ranger said, ending the call. He looked at his watch and started the countdown. Stephanie got back in the car at forty-eight seconds. He waited until she handed him the water and buckled in before he unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. One minute twenty seconds. He took his time placing the doughnut box back on her lap, covertly looking in the mirror and checking his watch. He turned the key in the ignition, adjusted the rearview mirror, slightly. Three minutes fifteen seconds. He saw a black SUV turn the corner a block down. With a satisfied sigh, he put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.

"What are you not telling me, Ranger?" Stephanie asked.

"Babe?"

"Don't Babe me. I know you're up to something."

"I'm not up to anything. Why are you bringing Tasty Pastry doughnuts to Sunday dinner with my family?" he asked in an attempt to change the subject. He didn't know who was watching Stephanie or why, but they'd know shortly, as soon as Tank got the information out of the stalker.

"I've told your mother these are the best doughnuts in Jersey," she said. "Your mom says no place is better than the bakery down the road from their house. We are going to have a doughnut taste-testing today and settle the matter. She's getting a dozen from her favorite bakery."

"Before lunch?" Ranger asked with a raised eyebrow. He didn't see the eye roll, but he knew it had happened.

"For dessert!" she responded.

His phone rang. He bypassed the bluetooth and held it to his ear.

"Yo."

"Lost him," Tank said. "He was on a bike, a Harley Low Rider. I got a partial plate, and he didn't make me, so I don't think I scared him off."

"Keep me posted," Ranger said. He disconnected the call and tossed his phone into the console.

"Who was that?" Stephanie asked.

"Tank."

"Bad news?"

"Maybe." He could sense her irritation. She didn't like it when things were kept from her. He'd noticed the man across the road from their driveway two days ago. If he'd been in the open it might not have seemed odd, but he was casually camouflaged. Enough so that the untrained eye might have missed him, but Ranger's eye wasn't untrained.

Then, a man had been walking down the street as they left RangeMan last evening, and he'd stopped to watch their car roll by. Ranger didn't get a good look, either time, but he was betting it was the same man. Today, he'd seen the man more clearly, and he'd watched him watch Stephanie as she walked into the Tasty Pastry to get the bottle of water. He wasn't going to say anything that might upset her. They'd been through a lot lately and they deserved some quiet time to adjust to life as a married couple. Whoever this guy was, they'd get him and get the story behind his amateurish stalking.

…..

"I can't believe it was a tie," Stephanie said as they pulled out of his parents' driveway.

"There's a lot I can't believe about today," Ranger responded. "Like how you got my mother to eat five doughnuts after a full meal."

"We tasted them," Stephanie said. "Just like a wine tasting. You don't drink the whole glass, so we didn't eat the whole doughnut. We just sampled them." They were quiet for a while as he navigated the streets of his old neighborhood. Stephanie cast a sideways glance at him. He was irritated, she thought, and in typical Ranger fashion, instead of talking it out he just reverted into his zone.

When they were on the highway she decided to broach the subject of his discontent. "I'm sorry if my eating doughnuts with your mother upset you."

Silence.

"You're upset, right?"

Silence.

"Ranger!"

"I'm not upset."

"It seems like you are," she said. "I won't take any more doughnuts to your mother's house."

"I'm not upset. At least not about the doughnuts," he amended. "It's just that ... Babe! Whatever possessed you to ask my mom to see my baby pictures?"

"You're upset about that?" Her voice rose with incredulity. "That I wanted to see you as a baby, and as a child?"

"No, I'm not upset about that, but do you know what message you sent to my mother. She'll be expecting the announcement of a forthcoming grandchild. Is that what you want?"

"Uh, no," Stephanie said, her eyes widening. Her stomach did a little flip-flop, and she had the thought that even "tasting" five doughnuts after a full meal may have been unwise. "Do you think she thinks we're trying to have a baby?" she asked.

"I do." Ranger exited the interstate and made a smooth transition onto the frontage road before he turned to her. "Is that what you want?"

They had never discussed children in a specific way, she realized. She thought she might want a child … someday. Ranger had promised her the Bat Cave … someday, and that time had come. She was happy. She wasn't ready to take the next step though, and to be honest, she wasn't sure she'd ever be ready.

"Is it what you want?" she asked.

"I have a child," he replied enigmatically.

"Speaking of Julie," Stephanie said, "I'd like to redecorate one of the guest bedrooms for her when she comes for the summer. Something a little more age-appropriate. Is that okay?"

"You can redecorate to your heart's content. I know Julie would appreciate a room just for her."

"Good. And I guess I'd better tell your mother we're not trying to get pregnant," she said.

"No!"

"So, we are trying to get pregnant?" she asked, confused by his answer.

"No!" Ranger said. "I think the less you tell my mother, or your mother for that matter, about our private lives, the better."

"We've never really talked about it," she said.

"We haven't, Babe," he said. His voice sounded more normal and less stressed, and she found herself relaxing. "We will talk about it though and whatever we decide, it will be a mutual decision. But not yet. This 'two of us' is still new. I want to enjoy it for a while before we consider the future."

She warmed at his words. "I want to enjoy us, too," she said. She reached out and ran her hand up his thigh. One of his hands came off the steering wheel and captured hers, stopping its upward progress.

"Wait 'til we get home, Babe, and I'll focus my full attention on your enjoyment."

She left her hand curled inside his and smiled in anticipation.

Later, when she was wrapped in his arms, both of them sated from what had turned out to be a brief but intense and intensely satisfying session of lovemaking, she pulled his face toward hers.

"Ranger, I have a question."

"Hmm?"

"When I was looking at the photo albums, I noticed your mother only showed me pictures of you until you started high school. She had pictures of everyone else in the family all the way through high school, but not you."

"That's because I left home to live with my grandmother. In Miami. My mother wouldn't have pictures of me from that time, unless my grandmother sent her some."

"I knew you went to Miami, but I didn't know you were so young. That's sad that you left home so early," she said.

"It's not. It probably saved my life. I was headed down a bad road, and my abuela put me back on a straight and narrow path."

"How old were you when you moved to Miami?" she asked.

"Fifteen."

"What kind of trouble were you in?"

"I left before I got in any real trouble," he said. "But I was running with a bad crowd. I'd started carrying a knife, and I stole a handgun from one of my parents' neighbors. I got caught and that was another factor in my parents' decision to send me to Miami."

Steph shook her head. "When I was fifteen I used to climb out of my bedroom window and shinny down the drain pipe to meet Mary Lou and hang out. I thought I was living on the edge. You were stealing weapons."

"Yeah," Ranger said. "I did a lot of things that were unwise when I was fifteen. It was bad enough when I stole the gun, but if my mother had known I'd tried to seduce the twenty-six-year-old wife of the gun owner, she might have permanently locked me in my room instead of sending me to my grandmother's."

She didn't know why that surprised her. The confidence Ranger exuded as an adult had apparently been part of his youthful persona as well. "You were brave, trying to lose your virginity to a twenty-six-year-old."

"I wasn't a virgin," Ranger said. "And I'd have been successful if her husband hadn't come home early. When she opened the nightstand drawer to pull out a condom, I saw the handgun. We heard the door open and she said, 'My husband will kill you if he finds you here.' So I grabbed the gun and jumped out of an upstairs window—there was no drain pipe for me to shinny down. She ratted me out to save herself. Told her old man that she caught me stealing the gun."

Stephanie pulled out of his arms and propped herself on her elbow, unmindful of the sheet that dropped away and exposed her breasts to Ranger. "So you stole a gun to keep from getting shot while you were trying to boink your twenty-six-year-old neighbor, who was not the first woman you'd been with?" she asked in astonishment. "How old were you when you lost your virginity? Fourteen?" When he didn't answer she guessed again. "Thirteen?"

"No. I was fifteen," he said. "It happened with someone I met at school. She was seventeen and kind of a loner like me. We were … compatible. But when I saw an opportunity to expand my knowledge with the neighbor's wife, I went for it. It didn't turn out so well though. And it wasn't too long after that that my parents made the decision to send me to Miami."

"Should I be worried that I'm not older than you?" she asked. "First, it was a seventeen-year-old, then the twenty-six-year-old, and then … Grace."

"I've given up on older women," Ranger said. He leaned into her and found a nipple with his tongue. He gave it his full attention for a few moments, and then reached to pull his wife on top of him. "I need a woman with stamina. Do you think you fit the bill?"

"I think I do," she said, smiling. "Are you sure your stamina can rise to match mine?" He pulled her hand lower and her fingers wrapped around the hard length of him. "I see it can!" she exclaimed. And they didn't talk about doughnuts or virginity anymore that night.