UPDATE: If you read chapter six and it was missing all the apostrophes and quotation marks, sorry about that. I have no idea what caused that to happen, but I've got it fixed now. I assure you, I wrote chapter six with all the necessary punctuation in place.
NOTE: You know the drill, but I'm going to say thank you anyways. Feedback is coming in so frequently I'm in constant inbox checking mode, unwrapping each comment like a piece of candy. Mmmm. I so appreciate you all reading and reviewing this. It's like a big, warm hug and, simultaneously, a slap on the back and a hearty, "Good job," which I love.
This chapter is just short of 6,000 words, and I thought I'd add in another scene, but I thought it would just start to really stretch on if I moved into the next phase, so for pacing, I'll be saving that for the next bit. Next chapter is likely to be partly Ranger POV and partly Steph POV, and should be fun and emotionally and sexually charged.
Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter!
SPOILERS: Do you feel spoilered? I hope so!
RATING: Language, pelvic grinding, doughnuts, and mind-reading. Grown-ups only.
CHAPTER EIGHT:
Ranger parked the black Porsche Turbo 911 and slid out from behind the wheel, activating the locks and security system with a click from his key fob.
As he approached the darkened glass doors, he could hear the throb of bass pulsing from inside just as before. The parking lot was surprisingly packed and there were plenty of people going in, but not many coming out. It was a little before midnight and the crowd was just getting warmed up.
Stepping through the doors, Ranger was immediately wrapped in the warmth of bodies pressing and grinding together, strong drinks, and the sound of body-rocking music. The lights were low, accented with blacklight, strobes, and laser displays that beamed colored light patters on a variety of surfaces.
Ignoring blatantly inviting looks from a number of co-ed aged girls, Ranger made his way to the bar, scanning for Stephanie. He made his way around the edges of the dance floor and spotted her near the center.
It was hard to get a firm grasp of what she was wearing, but he was aware that the only thing marring the smooth expanse of her neck and back to the almost indecently low waistband of her black shorts was a thin strand of translucent strapping that held the edges of her halter against her ribs and another keeping it anchored around her neck. A neck that was pale and bared by her thick curls piled in a messy twist on the back of her head.
He went stock still, gripping the rail before him that separated the drop to the dance floor from the raised bar section. She was plastered against Diesel from the waist down, his thigh wedged tight between her slim legs, her left hand cupping the back of his neck under his shaggy hair and her other hand resting on his forearm. He had one hand splayed over her ribs, his fingers just below her breast and the other was gripping the curve of her hip. Her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat as she undulated against the other man, but from where he stood he couldn't see her face.
Ranger could, however, see Diesel's face and it had him clutching the rail with a white-knuckled grip. Diesel's expression was intense, his eyes hooded, lips parted. Even from that distance, Ranger could see that his jaw was clenched.
Ranger continued to watch them and only took small comfort that not once did he see Diesel's lips come in contact with any part of Stephanie's skin or vice versa.
The current song wound down, already moving into another and he watched Stephanie rake her fingers through Diesel's hair, lingering at his nape, the strands still twisted in her grip. She must have said something because Diesel nodded slightly.
Moving swiftly, Ranger descended to the dance floor, weaving towards Stephanie, barely brushing anyone as he passed skillfully through the crowd. He came from behind them as they were leaving the floor, her hand clasped in Diesel's.
Acting on instinct, Ranger reached for her, his hand coming to rest on her hip and stalling her forward motion. Diesel kept moving, losing his grip on Stephanie's hand and immediately turning, eyes dark and his stance potentially dangerous as his gaze moved over Stephanie and landed on him standing behind her.
Ranger shifted close to her back, getting in her space. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his mouth near her ear and his eyes still fixed on Diesel's.
Diesel's focus shifted to Stephanie and his mouth crooked in a smirk as Stephanie mouthed something Ranger didn't quite catch but that drew a nod from Diesel before he turned away, heading up to the bar.
Ranger clenched his jaw as Stephanie spun tightly, her smooth motion not even dislodging his hand from her hip but instead sliding her ass beneath it so it then rested on her opposite hip. Then she was against him, her blue eyes compelling, accented in shimmering shades of smoke.
Her hand pressed his into her hip and she tipped her chin up, staring at him from beneath thick, black lashes. Her breasts were against his chest and he tightened his grip on her slightly, feeling the heat of her seeping into him as she lifted her free hand to rest on his shoulder, her touch affecting him like a burn.
"You want to dance, Ranger?" she questioned, her voice controlled. He clenched his jaw and flexed his fingers, unable to pull his eyes from hers. "Let's dance."
She stepped forward and her will was like a guiding force, urging him to back up while she kept her body tight against his, compelling him deeper into the press of gyrating couples. Her eyes were flashing and he didn't know if it was desire or anger that fueled their spark, and he was finding it hard to care.
Stephanie shifted and he scanned her body, taking in the slinky silk shorts and the white silk halter top that was clinging to her breasts, draping their soft curves like a caress that he wanted to imitate. Her stomach was as bare as her back, inviting him to devour her with his gaze and follow it with his mouth.
Her slow walk around him, her finger trailing a line of fire across his shoulders, had him tense and he could feel the tempo of the music throbbing in time with the blood in his veins.
Suddenly her ass was pressed into the hollow of his hips, finding him hard and heavy. She molded herself to him, her body picking up the beat like she was a part of it and it a part of her.
She teased him, playing him like an instrument as she worked him with her sexy form, the motions as primal as the hunt and all he could do was move with her, achingly hard as she pulsed and gyrated against him, her movements so perfectly designed to arouse him that he felt his breathing become labored as he worked to control the urge to tear away her shorts and thrust himself inside of her, to see if she was still as hot and tight as he remembered.
He was gripping her ass, her hand was fisted in his hair, her breathing was a controlled rasp that made her breasts lift and fall in little, mouthwatering heaves. Ranger felt her fingers curl into his shirt, holding him firmly as her eyes dipped to his mouth and she licked her lips suggestively. He rocked himself against the apex of her thighs, reveling in the heat he found there.
The smooth, slick column of her throat begged for his mouth and he brushed it against her skin, his eyes closing at the contact, her pulse thundering beneath his lips. He gripped her hard, acutely aware that any tighter might bruise her pale flesh. "Babe," he growled, his name for her a benediction, a prayer. He had to taste her and he ran his tongue over her throat, licking the salt from her skin, absorbing the shiver that passed through her.
Stephanie's motion hadn't stopped, and her undulating hips were driving him wild. When she clenched another handful of his hair, holding his head to her, he clamped his mouth on her throat, licking and sucking, dragging his teeth and his lips over her, up her neck to her ear, tugging at the lobe gently before sliding his mouth to hers, feeling another tremor course through her as their lips collided.
Earthquakes and volcanic eruptions had nothing on the power of her kiss as she parted her lips beneath his, her tongue dancing out to slide against his in time with the rhythm of her hips. Her hands in his hair were pulling tight enough to sting and the contrasting sensations of pleasure and pain had him throbbing painfully, his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans.
Ranger dragged his mouth to the hollow at the base of her throat, tonguing her pulse, feeling it race for him and she moaned quietly, a little gasp of pleasure, her muscles tightening under his hands.
He had to know. He'd seen them together, moving against each other just one step from fucking, right here on this dance floor. "What are you doing with Diesel?" he growled, keeping his mouth against her jaw, nipping and licking at the hollow beneath her ear.
Her lips slid over his jaw, her breath hot, tinged with the whiskey he'd tasted on her tongue, and she blew on the wet path she'd left on his skin.
"What do you care?"
His heart tripped, and he didn't want to think about how she had no reason to assume he really did. "You'll get hurt," he said, shoving guilty thoughts away, rocking against her. Dios, he was going to have the imprint of his zipper on his cock for a week.
She leaned back, her narrowed eyes gripping his as she drew her lower lip between her teeth. "I'm already hurt," she told him, and he heard it in her voice, striking him like a whip.
"Babe," he breathed, cut short when she dipped in, nipping at his jugular with a little, stinging bite.
She wasn't done, though, and her body moved in stark contrast to her words as she continued to work him like a stripper pole. "I'm all torn up, Ranger." Her voice was like smoke and fire, rough and silky at the same time.
Stephanie turned in his arms, once again rubbing her ass against his erection, her hands covering his as she let her head drop back on his shoulder, the molten skin of her bare back pressed against his chest, her breath steamy against his ear. "You ripped my heart out."
Ranger wrapped his arms around her so tightly they crossed her belly, his hands splayed over her ribs, feeling her words like bullets.
"And now this?" She bit him again. "What is this?"
He groaned in her hair, her words breaking him, her body tempting him, driving him, unable to stop rocking into her.
"You want me, but not us." Her tongue touched his skin, burning like a brand. "I'm no longer dealing in half measures. I only want one thing from you, Ranger."
He was desperate, something coiling painfully in his chest. "What?" he groaned, the pleasure and the pain placing him on the precipice. If she were to touch him in that moment he probably would have embarrassed himself like a randy teenager.
"Everything."
Abruptly, she pulled away from him, turning in one of those beautifully graceful moves that took his breath away and while her face was strangely neutral there was a pain evident in the tension around her eyes, a tiny tremble in her lip. She masked it so well, but her eyes were hollow and empty and a cold stiletto pierced his heart.
He took a step toward her. "Stephanie," he whispered, barely restraining the word from becoming a plea.
She moved away another step and Diesel was at her back as if summoned from thin air, the blond man radiating protective menace in waves.
Ranger cracked the blank mask into place over his immediate reaction to lash out at the interruption, to claim Stephanie beyond a doubt, to drive Diesel from their presence and from her life. Stephanie would never forgive him if he acted on the violent urge, so he wiped all expression from his face, forcing a calm he didn't feel.
Some of the couples near them were moving away, aware of the tension flickering around them like heat lightening.
Her eyes held his, full of pain. "I love you," she said, her voice full of that same emotion.
He felt his mask slip as her words struck home, but the tone was all wrong. It should have been joy in her voice but it was a deep and terrible hurt.
Diesel's arm came around her waist, pulling her against his chest, lending her the support Ranger knew he should have been giving her for so long.
"It's all or nothing."
All, he wanted to tell her, to crush her against his body and take her mouth and her heart and make every piece of her his. But he stood frozen as Diesel moved her back a step and then quickly turned her, leading her off the dance floor with his arm tight around her waist.
They disappeared into the crowd and when he felt he could breathe again, he went after her, shoving people out of his way, ignoring their angered cries. He pressed to the exit, his heart thundering. He threw open the doors and leapt out into the parking long just in time to see the taillights of Stephanie's little black Miata vanish into the humid night.
Ranger's face was blank, his heart was throbbing and, if he'd known how, he would have cried.
#
Ranger completed the drive to Haywood but couldn't hardly remember it. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel, aware that he was slipping. He couldn't remember the last time he'd driven in a haze and was lucky tonight wasn't the night for someone's vendetta. He would have been unprepared and easy pickings for any two-bit criminal with a grudge.
'I love you.'
Her voice echoed again and again, rebounding in his skull, closing his throat. He sucked in a ragged breath.
He didn't do relationships. No matter that Stephanie had somehow slipped through his armor and become his safe haven. When he needed to disappear and the delicate balance he maintained with the rest of the public shifted against him, Stephanie never turned him away.
He could show up in her apartment without warning or consent, tell her he needed her help, and no matter the odds or the dangers to herself, no matter that helping him could end up with her in prison or dead if the dice came up wrong, she accepted it. Embraced it even, throwing herself into whatever task he needed her to complete.
'I love you,' her words a gift, her tone implying that it was a death sentence. For her. He was killing her.
She had her friends, and she'd been pressing herself on, adopting precaution and training measures into her life, and he'd seen over the last six months that she gained satisfaction and pleasure from her other relationships and from her work, but the fire in her was banked. The heart she put into all she did was broken and he'd done that to her.
Could he fix this? Was it possible to repair the damage he'd done and build something with her? Madre de Dios, could he drop the mask and pretenses, let go of all his reasons, and let her in the rest of the way?
He'd been telling himself it was too dangerous. That a relationship with her that involved commitment of the romantic variety would place her in peril, make her a target, but it was habit more than truth.
He was in the business of kicking ass, and business was good. Hunting FTA's kept him on his toes, and sometimes he dealt with dangerous characters that would love to come back and haunt him, damage him, hurt him and those close to him. Some that would love to bring RangeMan down and see it burn, but they were thorough with those ones, making sure they got put away or disappeared forever. He hadn't had a case come back and bite him in the ass in ages.
Rarely did he have to be present on security gigs, just taking the ones that seemed like they might be fun. He still got a kick out of throwing crack heads out of windows or watching one of the other guys do it. Of course, that work was serious, too, but really, it didn't pay well enough in the grand scheme of things for him to need the work. It just helped to let off some steam now and then.
Ranger still liked to walk the parameter of properties under RangeMan protection, stay hands-on in the operations, but his men were highly skilled and knew how he expected clients and their assets to be handled. Those jobs rarely ended with anyone having a personal vendetta against RangeMan for the services they provided, and him and his men spent most of the time anonymous to any threatening persons involved.
His reasons for pushing Stephanie away were full of holes and he knew it. He was hiding behind them, less worried that she would get hurt or killed and more worried that letting her in would make him vulnerable. To her. He was forced to admit to himself that he already was.
'I love you.' She didn't say those words lightly. She'd said them to him once before, but she'd added one of the same qualifiers he'd tossed at her glibly in the past. 'I love you, in my own way.'
He'd thought that was what he wanted. To control the limits of their friendship, to see the hero she thought he was in her eyes, yet downplay his role in her life, and vice versa, by calling her "Entertainment". Handing her scraps of information about his life, his work, his past. Taking advantage of her physical reaction to him, bathing in her little sighs and the way she could melt against him from a touch.
It wasn't enough. Her fingers were wrapped around his heart and he wanted her to know him. He wanted to feel the comfort she offered, that he'd occasionally gotten a glimpse of when he'd needed her help instead of her needing his. He wanted to feel it every day. To let the past and the darkness be wiped away with her love and to allow himself to really feel again.
He loved her.
Ranger thought the realization should hit him like a ton of bricks dropped from fifty stories, but instead it was like that same ton of bricks was being lifted off him, freeing him. A black hole he hadn't known was sucking at his heart suddenly shrank. It didn't fade away completely, and he knew it was because he didn't know if he could earn her back.
He had to try.
#
Stephanie's cubicle was empty when Ranger came downstairs at eight Wednesday morning. There was a stack of search requests in her inbox but the computer was powered down, the desk lamp still off.
"She's not here."
Ranger turned to Santos. The man was all blank expression and emotionless voice, but his eyes were hard.
"I need to talk to her," Ranger said.
"She called in this morning and said she'd be running skips for Vinnie today. I didn't talk to her, so you'll have to ask Tank about it."
"She called Tank?" Of course she called Tank, he thought, mentally pounding his head on the wall. Why the hell would she want to talk to me if she could avoid it?
Santos raised a brow and tipped his head in the direction of Tank's office before walking off.
Tank was sitting at his desk, yawning at his computer screen, a Styrofoam coffee cup steaming at his elbow. He glanced up as Ranger walked in after a curt knock. "Yo."
"Stephanie's not at her desk."
Tank's brows drew together, but whether in confusion or something else, Ranger couldn't tell. The silence stretched between them as Tank waited for a question.
"Santos said she's running skips today?" Ranger prodded.
Tank nodded and leaned back in his seat, picking up his cup for a swallow.
"Any I should know about?" Ranger asked as Tank continued the silent treatment. It was annoying him, although they'd been communicating wordlessly for years. Stephanie called it the RangeMan ESP. Fuck, she's all over in my head, he admonished himself.
"She doesn't take jobs she can't handle," Tank replied, finally communicating verbally.
"Do you know the files?"
"I don't see the necessity. Bomber takes care of herself." Without you, hung in the air as clear as if Tank had actually said it aloud.
Ranger raked a hand through his hair and stood with his hands on his hips, carefully keeping his blank face from turning into a glare.
"Any particular reason she called you to say she wasn't coming to work today instead of me?" Ranger bit out.
"That's fairly obvious, Ranger," Tank returned, his voice bland.
He was trying to pick a fight and he didn't even know why. Taking a deep breath, Ranger left Tank's office without another word. He took the elevator to the garage and jumped into the Cayenne, turning it toward the bonds office when he hit the street.
Ten minutes later he cruised past Vincent Plum Bail Bonds, scanning for Stephanie's Miata or her RangeMan SUV, but even the windows of the office were dark and Ranger cursed himself for an idiot. He knew Connie didn't even open up shop until nine and it was still only fifteen past eight.
Pulling into a slot in front of the office, Ranger flipped open his phone and dialed the control room.
"Yo," Junior answered.
"Get me the location of Stephanie's car," Ranger ordered.
There was hesitation on the line for a moment. "Is Bomber in trouble?" Junior asked finally.
"Just get me her location."
"Have you tried calling her?"
What was this, the fucking Spanish Inquisition? Ranger bit off something vulgar and shut the phone with a snap, barely containing his urge to crush the phone like a pop can.
Why didn't he just call her? He stared at the phone in his hand, contemplating. She'd probably hang up on him, that's why. Or not even answer.
No, he conceded, she'd answer, thinking it had to do with work, but when something lame came out of his mouth, like 'Hey, about last night...' he'd be able to hear her expression going blank like a gate slamming shut and then she'd disconnect. This was something he'd have to do in person.
Backing out into traffic, Ranger took a direct route to the Tasty Pastry and picked up half a dozen Boston Crème doughnuts and, with a mental growl, three coffees. She'd probably make him say whatever it was he was going to say in front of Diesel. That thought made his guts clench painfully. He thought about getting himself one of the few healthy choices on the Tasty Pastry menu, but his guts weren't done mulling over a potential Diesel-audience so he decided against it.
The drive to Stephanie's apartment went faster than he liked. He could have used another twenty minutes to come up with something to say, but her personal car and the RangeMan issue Bronco were both in the lot, clear indicators that Stephanie was home, and the coffee was getting cold. Shit or get off the pot.
Ranger took the stairs to Stephanie's apartment, balancing the coffee caddy in one arm and gripping the pastry bag with the same hand to keep one arm free. He reached for the lock picking tool he kept in his pocket automatically when he stood in front of her door but released it after a moment's thought.
What were they doing in there? Still sleeping? Did Diesel sleep on the couch, or was he yet another man that refused to be confined to the too-short sofa? Maybe they were all tangled up in her bed, Diesel's face in her hair.
Ranger's hackles rose and he had to suppress a growl. Going for option number two, he knocked.
He heard a tiny creak on the other side of the door that indicated someone was looking through the peephole at him and he kept his face expressionless as he stared into it.
He heard the chain coming undone and then the door swung open, revealing Diesel wearing nothing but a pair of faded jeans slung low on his hips to reveal the waistband of pink boxers speckled with red lips. His feet were bare, his jaw was rough, and his hair was wild, immediately bringing to Ranger's mind a vivid image of Stephanie raking her fingers through it at the club the night before.
His stomach dropped into his boots somewhere and felt like it was down for the count.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Diesel asked, his eyes taking in the coffee and pastry bag.
Mental breathing exercises. Level head. If you punch him in the face not only will Stephanie be angry, but you'll probably spill the coffee.
"Where's Stephanie?" Ranger asked, ignoring Diesel's general hostility.
"Not here." Diesel now had his muscled arms crossed over his broad chest. He was a little leaner than Ranger and a little taller. He also had a reputation of being very, very dangerous.
Ranger wasn't entirely sure what it was Diesel could do, but the supernatural had been more than hinted a few times, and he wasn't in the mood to tangle with the mysterious. He had no doubt he could hold his own with Diesel in a brawl, but Diesel's status as a dangerous entity had yet to be quantified to anyone's satisfaction as far as Ranger knew.
He was beginning to feel like an idiot standing in the hallway, facing off against a barely clothed Diesel with coffee and doughnuts in his hands. Everything to do with Stephanie had to be difficult.
Going with what he hoped was a non-threatening expression by Diesel's standards, he raised a brow.
"I brought coffee." Peace offering.
Diesel studied him through narrowed eyes for a moment and then stepped back into the foyer, holding the door open wide enough for Ranger to pass him into the apartment.
Habit had Ranger categorizing Stephanie's apartment as soon as he entered. Rex tended to be nocturnal, so there was no sound of him running in his wheel at that hour. No smell of coffee, so wherever Stephanie was she hadn't brewed a pot before she left. Diesel's boots were next to Stephanie's CATS under the coffee table and there was a beer, still covered in condensation from the fridge, sitting on top of it next to a few packages of TastyKakes.
How cute, Ranger thought grimly. They enjoy the same crap food.
Diesel walked into Stephanie's bedroom and came out wearing a gray t-shirt, causing Ranger to do some more mental deep breathing. The fucker had his clothes in Stephanie's room, and obviously the couch hadn't been turned into a very uncomfortable bed, so it was good guess that Diesel was bedding down with her at night.
"If you're done thinking all that bullshit, you can set your peace offering down and wait for Steph on the couch or hanging from the ceiling, whatever you'd prefer," Diesel offered.
The comment Stephanie had made to him once about Diesel reading minds popped into his head and he clamped down on his thoughts, locking them up tight.
Diesel's knowing smirk was disconcerting and Ranger walked into the kitchen, placing the pastry bag and coffee caddy on the counter.
Yeah, this wasn't awkward. Hang from the ceiling? What the fuck did that mean?
He heard Diesel approaching and pulled one of the cups out of the caddy, leaning back against the counter so he could keep an eye on the other man.
"Hey, Bats, one of those coffees for me?" Diesel asked and Ranger made the connection.
Batman. Hang from the ceiling. Ha ha. Diesel was a real comedian.
Ranger nodded toward the caddy in lieu of an answer and Diesel took one of the coffees, popping off the lid and dumping some Bailey's from the cupboard over the fridge into the cup before snapping the lid back on and taking a long swallow.
The silence stretched between the two men as they leaned against opposite counters, drinking their coffee, studying each other like two alpha lions in a cage.
Diesel's attention shifted to the doughnut bag and Ranger tensed.
"She'll share them with me, anyway," Diesel said, an undertone of amusement in his voice.
Ranger didn't know if the other man was reading his mind or his body language, but the moment passed and Diesel didn't make a grab at the pastries.
Another ten minutes dragged by and Diesel straightened slightly. Two minutes later the apartment door opened and closed before Stephanie stepped into view.
She was dressed in blue Nike sports bra and matching shorts, running shoes on her feet. Her hair was scraped back into a ponytail and her face was scrubbed clean. Her skin was slick with a fine sheen of sweat and a Glock 36 and her cell phone were clipped to the strap of a mini-pack slung around her waist.
Her eyes went to Ranger first, her expression blank. She'd probably seen his car in the parking lot and he wondered if any emotion had crossed her face at that point.
"What's going on?" she asked, her gaze sliding from Ranger to Diesel.
"Ranger's feeling diplomatic. He brought us breakfast," Diesel answered and gestured toward the bag and coffee on the counter.
Stephanie stepped carefully into the kitchen, pulling first her phone and then her gun off her waist. She put the phone down, but Ranger noticed she held on to the gun for a moment longer, probably contemplating the odds that she might need it in the immediate future.
Doubt must have won, because she placed the gun next to the phone and unclipped her pack, dropping it on the breakfast counter behind the sink.
Ranger remained unmoving as Stephanie removed the third cup from the caddy and added in creamer from the fridge. He noticed it was a non-fat variety and refrained from commenting. She peeked in the bag and he caught a small smile touching her lips before she reached inside and removed one of the doughnuts.
She placed it on the counter and when she offered the bag to Diesel, Ranger tightened his jaw at the smug look the other man flashed him as he accepted the proffered pastry.
The three of them stood in the kitchen, each deep in their coffee cups. The small space was crowded, and any stranger looking in would have found their positions strange; each of them staking out a counter, ankles crossed as they leaned back against an edge, eyeing each other like barely restrained animals.
Stephanie was the bravest and finally broke the silence. "Didn't Tank tell you I was working for Vinnie today?" she asked Ranger. She took a bite of her doughnut and he waited for a little moan, or her eyes to roll around, or any number of the normal reactions he was used to when Stephanie ate one of her favorite types of junk food.
Her face remained blank as she waited on his answer and he let out a small breath that was his version of a sigh. She arched a brow at him and he decided to plow forward.
"I was wondering why you didn't tell me," he answered.
"It didn't seem like something worth bothering you over. The guys almost always call in to Tank when they're not coming to work."
She had a point. Why couldn't he get to his? Because he was distracted by her slightly glistening skin, reminding him of how she'd looked dry humping him on the dance floor and how she'd tasted on his tongue. And her smell, faintly floral and cut with clean, sweaty woman fresh from a workout. Or maybe a romp in bed.
He had to fight to keep from swallowing visibly and hoped his baser reaction wasn't suddenly obvious. Down boy, he thought, and Diesel snorted, coughing into the crook of his elbow.
What was his deal? Ranger thought.
"No deal," Diesel said aloud and pushed away from the counter. "I'm going to go watch some TV while you two finish up."
What the fuck?
Ranger thought he heard Diesel mutter, "You're the fuck," between coughs as he left the kitchen.
When he turned his attention back to Stephanie she had a brow raised at him expectantly.
"What are you doing here, Ranger?" she asked him, her voice guarded.
He softened, taking a step toward her but she shifted farther away, taking Diesel's spot against the opposite counter, holding her coffee and doughnut like a shield between them.
"I was worried about you, Babe," he chose, staying close to the truth. He was worried about her, but he was also just trying to figure out a way to ask her for another chance without making an ass of himself.
Her eyes narrowed, at his answer as a whole or just at the 'Babe' part, he didn't know.
"They're not difficult skips," she said, and when he opened his mouth to counter that he didn't mean the skips she held up a hand, effectively stopping him. "Don't."
So she'd been purposely misinterpreting his words. Fine. "Lula running back-up for you?" he finally asked, playing along for lack of a better option. Or balls. He grimaced inwardly.
"Diesel's going to be my back-up today."
He froze. "If you need someone more qualified than Lula I could send one of the guys."
"That's not it. Lula's got a spa appointment she doesn't want to miss, and there's six new FTA's that have come in since Monday. I just want to get an early start and get as many of these out of the way as I can. Diesel's here, so I'm using him."
That last part hung in the air between them and Stephanie's expression, not blank for once, said he could interpret that however the hell he wanted.
Diesel chose that moment to reappear. He looked between them, his lips tilted slightly at the corners, his eyes crinkled with amusement. "Can I get another doughnut?" he asked Stephanie, sauntering over to the bag by her elbow.
Stephanie pushed away from the counter and took the last bite of her own doughnut. She locked her eyes with Ranger's and deliberately licked the frosting off her forefinger. His pants were suddenly too tight again.
"You can have the rest," she answered Diesel, her eyes not shifting an inch. "I've got to take a shower." Still holding her coffee, she picked up her gun and left the kitchen.
Ranger stared after her even after he heard the bathroom door close and the shower turn on before turning back to Diesel.
The man was once again leaning against the counter, grinning wide enough to reveal dimples Ranger had no idea existed but that made him feel murderous.
"Well, Bats, that went well," he commented just before sinking his white teeth into a Boston Crème.
#
YO: It begins! Stephanie and Ranger, doing the emotional tango, and Diesel reading Ranger's mind at the worst possible moments... for Ranger, anyway. I was going for some humor with this chapter, and Diesel was feeling particularly funny so he played along. I hope you think so, but Diesel doesn't care as long as he gets his doughnuts and a chance to get Ranger's panties in a twist.
Little re-cap of the club scene, but it was just too good not to get Ranger's take, especially considering Stephanie dropped the L-Bomb after giving him an epic hard-on. I'd like to see if he's still got the zipper inprint...
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. We're getting real close to some actual smut, but I don't think two chapters is going to wrap this up and I've got a real slap in the face planned for Ranger. No worries, though. He'll recover and it'll be good for him and their relationship as a whole... Maybe (with any luck) it won't be any good for your panties.
Can't wait to read your feedback! LOOOOOVE it!
