blog note:If you missed it this past week, I have posted the third , final part of my current story Coulda, etc on my blog. Link is in my profile.

A Random Life

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a/n: This takes place during Notorious Nineteen. Ranger and Stephanie are friends and colleagues. It is before Take a Chance etc.

Some things have been changed from the book; quotes from the book are in italics. If you have not read the book, R & S are participating in a wedding to protect the groom who is an ex-army buddy of Ranger's. Ranger talks S into doing the wedding security despite her having to wear a bridesmaid's dress as her cover. And of course she never says no to Ranger.

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36 . Candy Conversation Hearts

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Ranger: "I was in the Middle East with [Robert] Kinsey. We were part of a small unit of specialists. Kinsey and I bailed when our tour was up." p.67

Usually I try not to lie to Stephanie. But sometimes the truth needs...a spin? And truth is, I did leave that unit. But not the action...

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Setting the scene: The wedding rehearsal in Book 19 : pg. 237:

I lined up with the rest of the bridesmaids. Ranger was next to Kinsey watching me walk toward him. His expression was serious, unwavering. Hard to imagine what he was thinking...For a heart stopping moment I imagined myself walking down the aisle to marry Ranger, one of those bizarre what-if moments...

Ranger

Just shoot me now. Please. I am standing at the front of a church in the Burg, watching Stephanie Plum walk down the aisle. Her eyes have gone huge and brilliant blue, her cheeks flushed suggestively pink. Our eyes lock, her tongue touches her pouty upper lip.

I shift a bit uncomfortably, I am not made entirely of steel, you know.

She is wondering what I am thinking.

I am trying hard not to laugh.

Poor Stephanie is wearing the most god-awful pink dress you can imagine. This is the rehearsal but the bride wanted to check all the details—hence the fiasco that Stephanie is wearing. The dress is too tight, the sleeves are puffy and the neckline is too low. But not in a good way. There's a huge bow on her ass. And she's wearing ratty black Vans.

The other nine—nine!—bridesmaids are dressed in similarly cringe-worthy pastel candy colors. Candy being the operative word here. My old army buddy's sweet and stupid wife-to-be has chosen Valentine candy conversation hearts as the theme for this affair. Go figure. Seems Amanda and Kinsey met at a bar one dateless Valentine's Day, and the rest is history. So behind Steph follows a woman in pale purple, one in mint green, a peach, an aqua, another in yellow. I think perhaps the yellow is worse than the pink...but maybe not.

Steph, as the fake maid-of-honor, is the only victim, I mean attendant, in bubblegum pink. Pepto Bismal pink taffeta. A crime against humanity. I bite my cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

We, the groomsmen, are more tastefully dressed in traditional black tuxedos. When the bride started telling us our ties would match the bridesmaids' gowns, I froze her with one patented glance. Then I leaned over to Kinsey and whispered, "Pink taffeta bow tie? Over your dead body, man."

Kinsey passed the intell on to the bride. I think this is when she started disliking me. Bigtime.

I also vetoed boutonnieres made of actual candy hearts. In fact, I banned them entirely, I do not wear flowers [or candy!] on my second best Armani tux.

Someone has to rein in the bridezilla. If Bobby Kinsey can't man up, I will.

The bridesmaids' bouquets are made up of candy colored roses. Lavender. Pink. Yellow. Mint green, aqua—dyed, so tacky. Tonight's flowers are silk, standing in for the real thing tomorrow.

The wedding rehearsal goes off as planned. I don't laugh my ass off in public after all. I am actually a bit relieved when Steph informs me that the bride has borrowed Steph's [my] new Ruger .38 for protection tomorrow from the nutcase who is stalking poor Kinsey. Of course this means Stephanie is again, and as usual, unarmed.

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These attacks are still a mystery to me. I mean, why Kinsey? Sure, he was part of our unit but he got out about as fast as he could. It's not like he was really cut out to be an operator. If he'd been good he'd be working for Rangeman, not selling Escalades at his daddy's Cadillac dealership.

I sip the crappy champagne and consider...things.

Later at the dinner Stephanie gives me a little poke in the ribs. She leans in and whispers, ''Who's that? ''

I'm on high alert, looking for the stalker. But she is discreetly pointing to a couple of older ladies.

I tell her, "The mother of the bride and grandma, I think."

''Why are they scowling at us?"

''Not us, just me. They don't like me.''

Stephanie giggles. Too much wine. She points to another frowning woman. "Who's that?"

"Kinsey's mom and aunts. They don't like me either."

"And who's that? That guy looks pissed off too.''

"He's the wedding planner."

"Why is everyone mad at you? You're trying to save Robert's life!"

Again.

I think about explaining—the pink bow ties, the candy boutonnières; the loaned .38; the expensively trained operative who now sells gas-guzzling vehicles to old friends like Tank and Mitch. Words of course fail me.

"Let's just assume for the moment that everyone in here doesn't like me, okay?"

Silence, then Steph's lips brush my ear."I like you."

I turn my head so the next whispered seduction hits my lips not my ear. "Good to know," I mumble. Then I steal a kiss.

Yeah she loves me now but just wait til the wedding pix hit Facebook. My ass will be fried.

Happy Valentine's Day!

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the end, series tbc

next up: Lester does Mardi Gras is New Orleans?

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