Hello lovely readers!
Running On Ice is my first attempt at actually publishing something here on FF Net. The aim of the first couple of chapters is to set the scene/mood, if you like. The drama/fluff/events will start happening in the second or third chapter. This is a Babefic all the way, but Cupcakes, fear not. I shan't be bashing Morelli too heavily!
I don't own any of the characters. They belong to the delightful Janet Evanovich. Although I do, coincidentally, own a half-Cuban boyfriend. Does that count?!
Oh, and all the titles used throughout are taken from Vertical Horizon's album, 'Running On Ice'. I don't own that either. Damn.
Running On Ice - Chapter One: Sunrays And Saturdays.
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"But you're a girl!"
That was the immortal line. The phrase that will always be known as the reason why I, Stephanie Plum, sucker-punched a 6ft 2", 285lb convicted car thief onto the hood of a 1953 Buick. For some reason, it had been 'pick on Stephanie' day, from the early-morning voicemail message from my mother, to the moronic skip whose face I had pinned to the heated metal of my uncle's car. Add to that a chauvinistic cop and a confusing Cuban, and I had the recipe for a crap cake of a day. The idiot currently yelling something about police brutality had been the icing on the top.
"I'm not a cop, dumbass."
With that, I hauled Jerry Resnicki - Big J to his friends – up by the back of his Giants jersey, walked him round the side of Big Blue and shoved him into the back seat. I didn't even bother belting him up. I just wanted to get to the cop shop, get my receipt and go home. The thought of taking a hot shower, eating something remotely edible and then sleeping for eight hours sounded very good to me at this point. Considering I'd been on my feet since 7am, looking for Big J, and had driven over an hour out of Trenton to pick him up from a sports bar, I definitely deserved it. I slipped into the driver's seat, fired up the powder-blue lunchbox and set off back towards Trenton PD.
~*~*~*~*~
By the time I got back to the bonds office, it was rolling on 10pm. Connie would be waiting behind her desk for me, ready to take the body receipt and write my check. I slumped through the front door to find her looking at me through amused eyes. My clothes may have been a little ruffled, and my hair probably looked like I'd stuck my finger in a socket, but I didn't care. I just wanted to go home. I gave Connie my best 'don't ask' look and she held her hand out for the receipt. I fished it out of my back pocket and huffed down into the chair in front of her desk. She disappeared into the back room for a couple of minutes, returning with a check and a small white bottle. I shoved the check in the same back pocket, and rolled the bottle over in my hand to read the label: 'Tylenol'.
"Connie, you're an angel." I'm not even sure it had come out like that. I had the mother of all headaches and coherence has never been my strong point. As I moved to get up from the chair, a large, warm hand gently pushed me back down again. Damn, I must be tired; I didn't even hear him come in.
I looked up at Ranger with heavy eyes. He handed me a plastic cup of water from the cooler in the foyer as I palmed two of the painkillers. I swallowed them down before looking back up at the gorgeous man standing in front of me. In one fluid motion, Ranger reached down, slipped his arm behind my back and pulled me up to my feet, my chest flush against his. With a nod and a slight smile to Connie, he guided me out the front door and onto the sidewalk. Once outside, Ranger grasped my hand and pulled me toward the Buick. Or so I thought. I had been too zonked to notice that he had led me to his Escalade, until he lifted me up and placed me down on the soft leather seat. He pressed a light kiss to my forehead before shutting the door and stalking round the car, into the driver's seat. I closed my eyes, letting my body sink into the seat, inhaling the scent of the buttery leather, Bulgari and something else. Something uniquely Ranger. Before I knew it, I was in the land of the living dead.
~*~*~*~*~
I hate rain. Not only because the humidity and moisture from it makes my hair look like it's gone three rounds with a bramble bush, but also because I've never been able to sleep when it's raining. The drumming sound of the water hitting the window has always woken me up. I'm sure the rain could bust me out of a coma, if need be. I had been tired enough to hibernate last night, but the rain wins every time. With my eyes still shut, I rolled over onto my right side, facing the window. Ranger must have put me into bed after driving me home. I was tempted to open my eyes, until I realized that the sunlight streaming in through the curtains put a quick halt to that plan. Hold on, sunlight? I thought it was raining? Come to think of it, the window's on the wrong side of the bed. Huh?
I was starting to wake up now, noticing that things were not as they should be. I didn't dare open my eyes, so I concentrated on what I could hear instead. Shaking the last remnants of sleep from my head, I realized that it wasn't raining. It was the shower running in the room next door. OK, definitely not in my apartment. My bathroom's across the hall. So where the heck am I?
One quick sniff and a feel of the sheets around me gave me my answer. Seven. The heady scent of his shower gel and the feel of cool satin against my skin told me I was in Rangers bed, at Haywood. I opened my eyes and slid upright, bringing the sheets up to cover my chest. Completely unnecessary, considering that I actually had clothes on. I had always imagined that the next time I was in Rangers bed, I'd be wearing a lot less than girl boxers and a RangeMan tee.
"So did I, Babe. So did I." I snapped my head around, shaken out of my daydream, to see Ranger leaning against the bedroom doorframe, nothing but a small, black towel wrapped around his hips, and a glisten of water on his smooth skin. Holy crap. It should be illegal to look that good. I made eye contact, feeling slightly self-conscious at my next thought.
"Did you...undress me?" Ranger lifted himself away from the doorframe, and stalked over to me, his eyes darkening.
"I sure did, Babe." Gulp. "Don't worry, I only took off your jeans and shoes" he added, laughing slightly at the bewildered expression on my face. I had clearly decided to do my best guppy impression. I promptly closed my mouth and mentally cursed myself for not being awake during the undressing process. I vaguely recalled the previous night's car journey, as I had drifted in and out of consciousness.
"Why didn't you take me home?" I was curious. Very curious. Ranger dropped himself down to sit on the bed next to my legs, his towel looking dangerously loose.
"You told me once before that you had the best night's sleep in my bed. You were so tired last night, and Connie told me about your rough day, so I figured you deserved to sleep well. Besides, I'm taking you to breakfast, so it made more sense to have you here already."
Another holy crap moment. The Batman does do full sentences after all. Interesting. Verry interesting. The proverbial light bulb flicked on as his latter words registered in my mind.
"Breakfast?" I asked. What had I done to deserve a Ranger-induced wakeup call?
"Breakfast." That one word was more than enough for him. No explanation, just a confirmation.
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Reviews of all kinds are welcomed. Positive reviews make me smile, negative reviews inspire me to improve my writing. It's a win-win situation. Hope you liked the first chapter. Flick.
