A/N: Not a song fic but inspired by the Sara Bareilles song Brave.

Thanks to LilyGhost and ShellSueD for the encouragement and being patient with me while I worked on this instead of our new story.

Hugs to Dog in the Manger who worked her beta magic on this story (multiple versions of it!) and added significantly to the plot. All mistakes are mine.

My mom and I stared at one another across the linoleum-topped kitchen table.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked me.

I nodded. "Absolutely. Just do it."

Mom's face was flushed, whether from a hot flash or heat in the kitchen, I couldn't be sure. The oven had been on all morning, and the little room was toasty warm, though, given her mood, I was betting on a hot flash.

She had pulled her hair back with barrettes, but over the course of the morning, a curl had escaped and was now hanging over her right eye. When she tried to push it out of the way with the edge of her thumb, she ended up streaking pink buttercream icing across her cheek. Not that she noticed. "Maybe a few extra roses around the edges and something simple like 'Congratulations' here in the middle?" My mother looked hopeful, holding up the pastry bag filled with icing.

Shaking my head, I handed her the pair of child-sized plastic handcuffs, I had picked up at the dollar store. "These should go at the bottom of the cake. In the middle, it needs to say 'prisoner of love.'"

Mom tightened her grip on the pastry bag, and I worried that if she squeezed any tighter, we would have a mess to clean up.

"It's a theme, right? Because Robin Russell is a cop, and she's marrying—"

"I know who she's marrying, and I get the symbolism," my mother interrupted. "I just think traditional is best for a wedding shower."

"But, the cake and shower are for Robin, and she likes non-traditional," I told my mom. Sort of like me.

Mom looked at me through narrowed eyes, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. This is exactly the kind of cake you'd want, isn't it?

She was probably right, but I was grateful that she didn't feel the need to say it out loud.

"Honestly, Stephanie, you could have had the party here. I've never heard of having a wedding shower at Pino's."

"Robin's choice." I shrugged. "She wanted to have one last Pino's 'everything special' before she moved."

"Aren't you the least bit envious that—"

"No," I interrupted my mother, hoping the tone of my voice would convey my feelings on the matter.

"So you don't wish that—"

"No! I wouldn't want to marry an FBI field agent. Or move to Richmond, Virginia." Or be ten weeks pregnant with said agent's baby, I added silently.

"What? She's pregnant?" my mother shrieked.

Okaaay. Maybe not so silently.

"Forget you heard that, Mom. She's not telling anyone until after the wedding."

"Hot damn," Grandma Mazur chimed in. She was sitting on a stool at the corner of the kitchen table, overseeing the cake-decorating project. "I knew there had to be a reason for all the hurry. Wedding shower today, bachelorette party tonight and the wedding next weekend."

"It's a combined bachelor-bachelorette party," I reminded her. "And it's not like that. They both have to start their new jobs in two weeks, and they wanted to be married and moved into their new house before then."

"Robin's going to keep working?" asked my mom, unable to hide her surprise or disapproval very well.

"At least for now. Mayor Juniak knows the chief of police in Richmond, and he got her a transfer to the force there."

"That won't be dangerous for the baby?"

Mom had managed an elaborate capital 'P', and her hand was steady as the rest of the 'prisoner' appeared on the cake in an elegant script. I had to hand it to her: she had beautiful handwriting, whether she was wielding an ink pen or bag of icing.

"She's not going to be on the streets. She'll work a few dispatch shifts, but her main job will be talking to the press when there's an event of some sort." Robin had made a name for herself doing that in Trenton, and that's how we had become friends. She'd been the police spokesperson for some of my news-worthy cases.

"Huh. " Mom finished the word 'love' with a flourish and tilted her head to admire her work. "So, Robin's going to have a new job that doesn't involve risking life and limb every day, a handsome husband and a baby. You could have—"

"Helen," my grandma warned. "We've talked about you supporting Stephanie and her choices."

"Christ!" My mom put down the pastry bag and looked from my grandmother to me. "It's not like I'm the enemy here. I just want my daughter to be happy."

"Robin's happy with her choice and I'm happy with mine," I added for emphasis. At least, I'm not unhappy. Not really.

After one last appraising look at the cake, my mom wiped her hands on her apron and turned to pour herself a cup of coffee from the carafe sitting on the counter next to the stove. Just holding the hot cup seemed to calm her.

"Have you really made a choice Stephanie, or are you drifting along, accepting choices other people make?" Mom put down her mug and, in an uncharacteristic display of physical affection, gently stroked my cheek with her fingertips. "Sometimes I wonder, what happened to my brave little girl who jumped off the garage roof?"

oOoOo

Pino himself had helped us push three tables together in the back corner of the main room of the pizzeria. After he'd wiped them clean with a damp dishcloth pulled from his back pocket, Mary Lou added a lace tablecloth and arranged vases full of pink peonies from her garden on either side of the cake. Voila! Instant bridal shower. The silver and white helium balloons, tied to the back of each chair, were almost overkill.

"This is my favorite kind of wedding shower," Mary Lou announced, pinching a wilted petal off one of the blooms. "Pizza, beer, and no stupid games."

"Maybe not beer," I said, catching the bride-to-be's worried gaze. "Robin and I both have work to do this afternoon."

"Suit yourself," Connie said, plopping her purse and a present wrapped in silver paper onto the table, seconds before she motioned for the waiter. "The rest of us are going to drink. Vinnie and Lucille are in Sarasota this week, and I closed the office for the afternoon."

"That's what I'm saying." Lulu bustled up, both her hair and her tight, strapless dress almost the exact color of the Victoria's Secret gift bag she carried. "Without beer, how are we going to toast the bride?"

"Ah, well…" At that moment, Robin looked as though she might be wishing for a Heineken.

When I first suggested the idea of a shower to Robin during one of our Saturday morning Zumba classes – which, knowing my dislike of any kind of exercise, she'd persuaded me was dancing in workout clothes - she was set against it. "I work with men," she'd said. "My friends are mostly men. Who the hell would I invite to a shower? Eddie? Big Dog?"

"Not Big Dog or Eddie," I'd agreed as we'd shimmied and shook our butts to Boom Boom by Black Eyed Peas. "But we can invite Shirley." Eddie's wife Shirley was my cousin, once removed, on my mother's side. While she could be sort of whiny, in the tradition of Mazur women, she was always up for a party. "And what about Tammy, that girl from booking, Big Dog's been dating?"

"Tamara," Robin had had corrected me. "She hates being called Tammy."

"Whatever. You sat with both couples at the Policemen's Ball, and that's enough to earn them a shower invitation."

As I predicted, they'd both happily accepted and arrived together, minutes after Connie and Lula. My sister Valerie rounded out the group.

The party guests managed to drain two pitchers of beer and devour two orders of hot wings before the pizzas arrived: two 'everything' specials made with extra everything. It was his special gift to Robin, Pino said.

Mary Lou reached for a stray piece of crispy pepperoni, popped it into her mouth, and moaned a little. "This is so good. If pizza like this is what Pino thinks is an appropriate wedding present, I want to get married again." Then her eyes popped open, and she smiled at me while I chewed on a piece of pizza crust. "What about you, Steph?"

I must have swallowed wrong because the next moment, I was choking and sputtering. Robin shook her head, refilling my water glass, and pushed it toward me. Jeez.

Valerie cleared her throat. "Before Robin opens her gifts, and we cut the cake, we're going to play a game."

"No games," Mary Lou and I howled at the same time.

"Hey, a game might be fun," Lula offered. "We gonna play the one where we wrap the bride up in toilet paper? See who can make her the best wedding dress out of Charmin?" She was out of her seat and headed for the bathroom. "I'll just grab us a few rolls."

"Um, no," said Valerie. She had the good sense to shoot an apologetic look at Robin. "What I have in mind is more of bridal shower activity than a game." She waved a small photo album at us. "I've put a picture of each of us with Robin in this book."

She fanned the pages so we could see some of the photos: Robin with Tamara and Shirley at the Policeman's Ball; Robin and Lula at the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new women's shelter; Robin and Connie dressed as Thelma and Louise for Halloween. When Robin saw that one, she rolled her eyes.

"I had a plan, Louise. I said, we should go to the police, but you didn't like that," Connie managed to choke out. She was laughing so hard, she had a tear rolling down her cheek.

Straightfaced, Robin gave a little shrug. "Well, what's the rush, Thelma?" Uncharacteristically, she didn't try to hide her southern drawl. "If we wait long enough, they'll come to us."

"Crap," Connie gasped, wiping at her face. "I'll never forget that night." In a blink, her face sobered and not all of the tears were ones of joy. "I'm really going to miss you."

Robin's laughter melted away and suddenly she looked a little teary too. "You guys will come visit though? Richmond's only four and a half hours away…"

Mary Lou pulled a tissue out of her magic mom purse and passed it to Robin. "We'll plan a girls' weekend as soon as you're settled."

"Damn hormones." Robin swabbed at her eyes, mascara staining the tissue, then she looked startled. "Pre-wedding hormones, I mean. People get those, right?"

"OK, then," Val said, glancing between them. "Moving on here. Behind each photo is a square of paper so that we can each write down our advice for a happy marriage or..." My sister looked around the table. Connie and I were divorced. Tamara-not-Tammy was still in that hopeful, pre-marriage stage. Lula'd once been engaged for about a minute, and now she proclaimed she was a confirmed bachelorette. Val cleared her throat. "Or advice for a successful relationship. That would work."

"Can't say that I've had many of those," I muttered to no one in particular.

"Look. I've already done mine." Valerie showed the group a picture of her and Robin taken at my birthday party last year, and then she flipped it over so we could see what she had written. "Show your husband that you appreciate him and give him something to look forward to at the end of the day," she took a breath, "and I included the recipe for Albert's favorite pot roast."

"Pot roast, huh?" For a nanosecond, Lula looked perplexed. "So you're saying we could tell Robin somethin' about how to keep her man satisfied?"

"Yes." Valerie breathed a sigh of relief. "That would be perfect."

"My idea is better than pot roast," Lula said with a sly smile, and the whole group laughed.

I turned to Robin, keeping my voice low. "I'm not trying to be a party pooper, but under the circumstances, I'm the least likely person to give you advice about this unless I tell you what not to do—"

"Well, I know what I'm going to say," Shirley said firmly, as she pulled a pen out of her purse. "Be brave, like Stephanie. Don't be afraid to speak up and say what makes you happy… what you want."

I turned to my cousin, trying not to sound worried. "You and Eddie doing OK, Shirley?"

"Well enough," Shirley said, flushing pink. "It's just that after so many years of marriage, you start to assume the other person will just automatically know what you need. But, sometimes you just need to tell them."

"Amen to that, sister!" Mary Lou arched an eyebrow at me. "Right, Steph?"

I was saved when Connie hissed out a long, low breath through her teeth. "Uh oh. I guess it's true what they say about bad pennies. Danny Bertolone is back."

"Danny?" Valerie's face brightened. "I know him. He was in my grade at McCorristin Catholic. He married Alice Posnansky from Hamilton Township, right Shirley?"

"That's right," Shirley said, "but I heard she filed for divorce and sole custody of their two kids when he was sent to prison last year."

"What'd he do?" Tamara asked. She wasn't from the Burg, but she was making a valiant effort to keep up with the neighborhood gossip.

"Running numbers for the mob." Connie looked grim. "At least, that's what they convicted him for."

Valerie twisted the rose gold wedding band Albert Kloughn had finally placed on her finger. Clearly, she was worried that this line of conversation was messing up the happy marriage mojo thing we had going with the bridal shower. "Divorce seems so drastic. I mean lots of Burg marriages survive a little prison time." She glanced at Connie. "And plenty of upstanding citizens have mob connections."

"Yeah, so I've heard." Connie rolled her eyes. "The word on the street was that he was also an enforcer, roughing up guys who couldn't pay their gambling debts on time. He was charged with two counts of assault with a deadly weapon, but the prosecutor couldn't make them stick." She paused. "There were also rumors that he beat on Alice, but she never filed a complaint."

"I saw the bruises," Shirley said quietly. "Our little Eddie played t-ball with Zak Bertolone one summer, and Alice always wore long sleeve T-shirts to try covering them up. I always wondered if he hit her."

"Well, I say good riddance," Mary Lou chimed in. "My mother-in-law is friends with Alice's mother. She told me that Alice is taking a course to learn to be a medical coder, so she can support herself and the kids. Her mom keeps the kids three days a week, and every Friday, she brings them to Pino's for lunch. I saw them in a booth in the back room when I went to ladies room."

"Uh oh." Tamara echoed Connie's exclamation from earlier. "I guess it's a bad sign that he's gotta gun shoved into the waistband of his jeans, right? You think he's here for the kids?"

"You carrying?" I turned to Robin, keeping my voice soft.

"Of course, I'm carrying." Her voice faltered, and she looked down at the lace-trimmed ivory t-shirt she was wearing. "I'm just not wearing a vest."

"Give it to me then."

She shook her head. "I can't, Steph. He's not FTA, and you don't have any authority to make an apprehension."

"I'm pretty sure carrying concealed is a violation of his parole."

"True, but, in any case, you're not licensed to use deadly force."

"Defense of a third party," I muttered.

"That may or may not hold up in court," Robin hissed back. "I'm not giving you my gun." Her gaze followed mine to Lula's over-sized Louis Vuitton look-alike purse. "And I'm sure as hell not explaining to the chief how you managed to accidentally shoot someone with a gun we both know is unregistered."

"Guess we'll have to go with a distraction then." I was wearing a fitted, black shirtwaist blouse over skinny jeans, and before anyone could object, I pushed my chair back from the table, undid the top two buttons of my blouse, letting my lacy blue bra show. Then, I grabbed Mary Lou's full beer along with the empty pitcher and headed for the bar, weaving a bit as if I'd had too much to drink. I managed to weave right into Danny.

"Funny I should run into you here," I purred.

"Who the hell are you?" Danny didn't look too thrilled to see me.

"I'm Stephanie. One of the Plum girls," I clarified, running my tongue over my bottom lip. "You were in the same class as my sister Valerie."

For a moment, he just looked puzzled. "Blond chick? Always thought she was better than everyone else?"

I snuck a sideways glance a Val. "Yeah, that sounds right."

Danny glared at me. "Cold-hearted bitch, your sister. I would've passed sophomore chemistry if she hadn't been so pissy about letting me copy her answers. Because of her, I ended up in summer school."

"She's practically an ice queen," I agreed. I fluttered my eyelashes at him, hoping it came across as sexy rather than as a nervous tic. "Good thing I'm nothing like my sister."

His eyes opened wide and then he shot me a lewd smile. "So I heard. Your sister thought she was too good to sleep with any of the guys in our class, but I understand you weren't like that."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Valerie do a little first pump, looking smug. I didn't think I would ever be grateful to Joe Morelli for writing his little poem about me on the wall of the men's room in Mario's sub shop, but today, it just might have worked in my favor.

"Oh, I'm definitely the sweetest Plum in the family." Thank God I wasn't wearing a wire for this distraction. I'm betting the guys would never let me live that one down.

Suddenly, Danny's eyes narrowed. "Plum. Wait a minute. I've seen your picture in the papers. You're that bounty hunter, aren't you?" He took a step away from me. "I did my time, and I'm out on parole."

Which you violated as soon as you walked into a family pizza place carrying concealed, asshole.

"I wouldn't think of taking you in, at least not to the police department." I giggled. I set my beer pitcher and glass down on a nearby table so I could run my fingers over his hairy forearm. "I could use your help though."

"Listen, I'm sort of busy right now. Maybe if you want to get together later—"

"That's too bad," I murmured. "Your ex-wife's FTA, and I was hoping you could help me bring her in."

"Alice? FTA?" He looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. "She'd never had a parking ticket! You want me to believe she skipped bail?"

I shrugged a little as shoved my hands into my front pockets. "Bad checks. I guess money was tight while you were, um… while you were out of town. The first few were for essentials… groceries, gasoline, kids' dentist. The court lost patience when she went on a shopping spree at the electronics store."

"Damn," he said, looking thoughtful. "Maybe, I misjudged her."

"So I was thinking, you could help me bring her in, and while we're downtown, we could stop by family court, and I could put in a good word for you when make your pitch for custody… seeing how you've become such an upstanding citizen since your return to Trenton."

Danny looked me up and down. "You'd do that for me?"

"Honey," I said, "that's only the first thing I'd do for you." I leaned in close, as if I meant to whisper in his ear. Instead, I pulled the mini-stunner out of my front pocket and zapped him.

oOoOo

The Prospector billed itself as the best honky tonk bar in western New Jersey. Truth be told, it was one of the few bars in Trenton area that booked country and western bands, and only a couple of nights a month.

Tonight was one of those nights. The headliner was a band from Houston, and because Robin, a native Texan, had a thing for guys in plaid shirts and cowboy boots, crooning about their girls, their trucks, and their guns, I'd picked it for the bachelor-bachelorette celebration. Around Trenton, people had started referring to it as the "Black and Blue Party" since the guest list was largely guys from RangeMan and the TPD. Honestly, though, having dealt with members of both contingents at Pino's earlier today, I wasn't eager to repeat the experience tonight.

So I'd staked out my position in the back of the room, as far away from the wooden stage - and the speakers - as possible. I leaned against the bar, listening to the band belt out their cover of what I assumed was a popular country song, judging from the enthusiastic response from the crowd.

Raise your cups a little prouder

Turn the music up a little louder

Tell me it ain't just us

Girls look hot in trucks

Christ. Give me vintage Guns and Roses any day. Still, I raised my own cup, which in this case was a jumbo margarita glass, and took a large sip. Then I wet my index finger on my tongue, ran it around the rim of the glass to pick up some salt, and popped it into my mouth. After I'd handed Bertolone off to the authorities, I'd eaten enough cake to put myself in a sugar coma. Now I craved something different. I closed my eyes, focusing on the feeling of the salt crystals against my tongue. When I'd sucked that finger clean, I was going to do it again, but a hand caught my wrist.

"Damn, Beautiful. Haven't you caused enough trouble today? Now you're trying to incite a riot in the Prospector?"

Lester Santos stood in front of me, and I was mildly surprised that he was mostly blue tonight: tight blue jeans, a white western-style shirt with thin blue stripes and blue diamond studs in his ears. Only his cowboy boots were black: polished leather, pointy-toed, and, I suspected, custom made for him.

I dragged my eyes up his body and forced myself to look him in the eye. I'd never quite mastered the patented RangeMan blank look, so I tried for innocent instead. "I don't know what you mean." That was my story, and I was sticking to it.

"What you did today at Pino's was incredibly brave… and incredibly stupid. Didn't we teach you about going after a guy with a gun when you're not wearing a vest, and you don't have proper backup?"

"I had back up. Robin was there," I answered primly.

Les looked exasperated. "I said proper. She wasn't wearing a vest either."

"I hit my panic button. Was there something else you wanted me to do?"

"I don't know, Steph. Let me think about this. Maybe, wait for RangeMan to respond before you took on the guy with the Colt .45?"

"I was worried there wasn't time," I protested. "I was afraid someone would get hurt."

"Did you ever stop to think that someone might be you? Honestly, Beautiful, someday he's going to throttle you, and I'm not going to stop him. I just might help him."

"Are you trying to tell me something, Lester?"

Before he could answer me, Robin emerged from the crowd, her face flushed and happy.

"Hi Les. Thanks for coming." She reached out to squeeze his hand. "Steph, this is awesome. Isn't the band great?"

While she asked the bartender for soda water with lime, Les plopped down onto a bar stool and tugged me into his lap. "You are an enigma, Stephanie Plum. I've never understood how one woman could be so fearless in one area of her life and such a coward in another."

I wanted to argue, I truly did. The sad truth was, he was probably right.

He pulled back enough to look me in the eye. "You guys have some special phrase in Jersey that this Miami boy doesn't know? Put on your big girl panties? Hell, I don't know. Maybe get your head out of your ass and fuckin' talk to him. Tell him the truth."

"I can't," I whispered.

"You can." Lester glanced toward the entrance. "And it looks like you're about to get your chance." He set me back on my feet and slipped into the crowd before I had a chance to argue.

oOoOo

Joe Morelli strode across the room, eyes flashing and jaw clenched. When he was upset, Joe tended to run his fingers through his thick, black hair… repeatedly. It only took one look to know that he'd been really, really upset.

"Thank God you're alright. You scared the shit out of me." He reached over me, gathered Robin into his arms and brushed his lips across hers. "You and the bambino, OK?"

"We're fine." She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. "We didn't even see any action. Stephanie took care of everything."

"Cupcake," Joe said, keeping an arm around Robin as he turned and dropped a kiss to the top of my head. "Thanks for saving the day."

"It was nothing," I replied. "Distraction 101."

Joe stiffened; his jaw clenched. He'd always hated it when I worked distractions for Ranger. That was just one of the nails in the coffin that held the remains of our longstanding, on again, off again relationship. We'd managed to bury most of our disagreements, but this, apparently, remained a sore spot.

Robin looked from Joe to me, a look of understanding passing across her face. "Hey, you two need to excuse me for a minute. I need the little girls' room."

She had barely disappeared into the crowd when Joe's temper got the best of him. "Goddammit, Stephanie. Did Bertolone touch you?" I noticed his hands were fisted at his sides, his knuckles white.

"No."

He raised one eyebrow back at me… the one with the hairline scar that was a souvenir from a bar fight he'd been in before he'd become a damn good cop. Now he was on his way to becoming a damn good FBI agent.

"It was G-rated all the way. We were in Pino's, for God's sake." The way Joe kept staring at me, I could tell he wasn't buying it. "Maybe the nasty looks and the profanity bumped it up to PG-13, but that's it. I swear."

Joe visibly relaxed. "You OK?" he asked after a minute.

"Of course, I'm OK. No bullet holes… not even a scratch this time."

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it," he said quietly, reaching for me and pulling me to his side.

"Hey, I'm happy for you… both of you. You and Robin are perfect for one another, and you make each other happy in a way that you and I never could."

"Good," he said, tightening his arm around me. "I thought we'd worked out all of that stuff about you and me months ago, when we got back from Hawaii, but I'm glad you still agree."

I nodded, not knowing what else to say.

"I also thought there was someone else who could… hell, who made you happy the way I couldn't. So, I'm having trouble figuring out why you've seemed down lately."

"You know, I've never been a fan of country music, but people seem to be having a good time."

Joe sighed at my lame attempt to change the subject and motioned for the bartender to bring him a beer. "It means a lot that you would do all of this," he gestured with his free hand to indicate the whole of the bar, "for Robin."

"She's my friend."

"Yeah, I get that. And that means a lot to me too, that you're willing and able to be friends with both of us. But this friend business goes both ways, and I've been worried—"

"Don't need to be." I tipped up my nearly empty margarita glass, searching for the last few drops at the bottom. "I'm fine."

"Really? Steph, don't you think it's ironic? You're the one who wanted to get of out of the Burg and follow your dreams, while I would have been perfectly content to work at the TPD, marry you and live happily ever after in my Aunt Rosa's house—"

"Right. Just like in a fairy tale." Well, shoot me. I didn't plan the sarcasm. It just sort of slipped out that way.

"Hey, I asked you."

"But you didn't really mean it."

Joe ran his hands through his hair again, grinned. "Maybe. But I would have gone through with it had you said yes."

That earned Joe a snort and an eye roll. "Like that was ever going to happen."

The grin disappeared, and serious Joe was back. "The point is, I didn't know that. I was never very clear on what you wanted, Cupcake. When we were together, I thought that you loved me, but commitment scared the shit out of you. When we broke up, I figured the problem was more me and less your commitment issues. Now, I'm not so sure." He rubbed his thumb absently across the back of my hand, stopped briefly on my fourth finger. My very naked, perfectly tanned, ring finger.

"Not everybody needs a wedding band to be happy, Joe."

"Maybe not," he agreed. "But have you given any thought to what would make you happy? I still can't get over that I'm the one moving to Richmond, and you're choosing to stay in the Burg while—"

"Being an FBI agent was always your dream, Joe. I'm glad it came true."

Joe fixed his whiskey-colored eyes on me and gently grabbed my chin when I tried to look away.

"Yeah, it was my dream, but I could have been happy if it had never come true. I was content with my life the way it was, especially once Robin and I got together."

I thought I understood what he was trying to tell me. He could live without the job, but he couldn't live without Robin. When Joe laughed, I realized that I'd managed to mumble my private thoughts out loud. Again.

"The most charming thing is that you still don't seem to realize when you do that," he said as he pressed a brotherly kiss to my temple. "I'm not saying this very well, but Robin wasn't just my dream. Turns out, she's my heart's desire. I just can't help but wonder what your heart desires, and why you won't let yourself have it."

When a single tear leaked out of my left eye and crept down my cheek, Joe swabbed it away with his thumb. "Listen, Cupcake, I learned a lot from our time together—"

"McDonald's fries and a large coke are the best hangover cure ever?"

"That too." Joe tried for an encouraging smile, but I could see the worry lines around his eyes. Then I noticed it. A subtle streak of grey at his left temple. God we're getting old, I thought. I wonder how many of those gray hairs I was responsible for.

"We are, and all of them. But, I want you to stop trying to distract me."

"Old habit." I laughed nervously. "Bad habit, maybe."

"You think? You've got a few of those. You're doing the same thing to him that you did to me." He was silent for a moment. "It didn't do you any good the last time. Do you really think it's going to be any different now?"

"I… I don't know," I whispered.

"Be brave, Cupcake. Don't run away this time."

oOoOo

Mercifully, the band took a break. I toyed a bit longer with my empty margarita glass before I finally decided to hell with it. I could take a taxi home. I motioned to the bartender for another before crossing my forearms on the bar and leaning forward to rest my head on them. Slow, deep breaths, I told myself. This night can't last forever. Maybe another hour and I could say my goodbyes and escape to my apartment without talking to—

I felt the tingle on the back of my neck just seconds before strong hands settled at my waist.

"You wanted me, Babe?" His voice was deep and smooth and wrapped around me like smoke.

"God, yes." I closed my eyes and moaned a little before my brain kicked into gear and tried to override my traitorous hormones. "No! That's not what I meant—"

"No? Really?" Ranger's thumbs starting rubbing little circles over my hips, and it was hard not to sink back against his chest and enjoy the moment. "Les said you wanted to talk to me?"

And just like that, the moment was gone. Damn Lester! I straightened up but couldn't seem to turn to face Ranger. "I didn't! I mean, well, I did, but maybe I changed my mind."

"Maybe you'd rather talk about what happened in Pino's today?" Ranger spun me around, tucked his right hand under my chin and gently rubbed his thumb across my bottom lip. His eyes searched mine, and I realized that it would be easier for both of us if he just used that famous Mañoso ESP and we could get this over with. Unfortunately, his mind-reading powers seemed to be on the fritz tonight.

"Just say it, Babe. Say what you want to say."

I took a deep breath. Somehow it was easier dealing with the crazy guy with the gun. At that moment, I wished for the band to return early from its break and play so loudly that all conversation would be next to impossible. Even a stupid song about a girl in a truck would be fine.

"You're moving to Florida at the end of the week."

And just like that, flirty Ranger was gone. "Steph, we talked about this."

We had, nearly a month ago. I helped RangeMan with a distraction in Philadelphia, and after we had the skip in cuffs, Ranger whisked me away to dinner at Vetri and a bliss-filled weekend at the Rittenhouse. The topic of Miami came up on Sunday morning as I lay naked and happy on his chest.

"You said you understood," he said carefully.

I'd understood then although to be perfectly fair, he'd prepared me with hours of mind-blowing sex, blueberry pancakes from the room service menu, and then more sex. It was only after I was back home and alone in my apartment that the reality of the situation began to set in.

On our way back to Trenton that afternoon, Ranger received a call about an attempted break-in at the home of a major client. "I have to check it out, Babe. You want to go to Haywood or your apartment?"

"My apartment."

That turned into our ritual after I'd ended things with Joe, and Ranger and I had become, more or less, a couple. He'd asked me once, about two months into it, if I needed to keep my apartment. I told him I wasn't ready to give it up and he didn't push. Unlike Joe, he never tried to change me or force me to do things I didn't want to do. Sure, at Christmas he'd asked me sweetly to carry a panic button as my gift to him, but he let it be my choice.

"As I explained, it's just temporary. I'm going to work out of the Miami office, and Julie will live with me over the summer while Rachel and Ron work out some issues they're having."

"You need to go. I know you do. It's just that—"

"I'll be back in town at least one weekend a month. If you need help with a skip, you can always call Tank."

"Thanks," I let my voice trail off. "It's just that I thought I might take a break from catching skips for a while."

An indecipherable look passed across Ranger's face as he tightened his hold on my hips and pulled me closer. To the casual observer, it might have seemed like a sexy, intimate move. I knew he was keeping his hands on me so I couldn't escape.

"What are you saying?"

"I could go to Miami with you. I'm not licensed to do apprehensions in Florida, but maybe Silvio could use some help with searches…"

"You want to work for RangeMan Miami? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Sure. That's fine. I'd like that. But I thought that you might need help with Julie…"

"You're offering to help with my daughter," Ranger said slowly. "For that to actually work, you'd have to move in with us. You're willing to do that?"

"Well, yes, I mean, if you want me to."

"Dios, Stephanie. For once, just tell me what you want."

"I…"

Ranger gathered me in his arms. "Honestly. No more empty words. What do you want?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Nada.

"I'm waiting, Querida. I've been waiting. Tell me."

"You," I finally blurted out. "What I want, who I want, is you. Wherever, however, doesn't matter so much to me, but I love you, and I can't stand the thought of you living 1500 miles away from me."

"Thank God," he said, dropping his forehead to mine. "I didn't think you were ever going to admit that to yourself, let alone to me."

"The 1500 mile thing?" I blinked at him through lashes wet with tears.

"That you love me, Steph. For better or for worse, you finally said it, and I have witnesses, a whole bar full of them."

"For better or for worse," I repeated slowly.

Ranger arched an eyebrow at me, and then a broad smile broke out across his face. "See, that wasn't so hard… for either of us." He leaned in and brushed his lips across mine. "So you think there's a chance — maybe someday — we might be able to say those words to each again?"

For the first time today, maybe for the first time in a long while, I was feeling brave.

"I do."