SPOV

Shit! Shit! Shit! Bobby is supposed to be at my apartment in an hour, and I'm stuck in traffic on Hamilton. I thought I had plenty of time to pick up Mooner and Dougie, get them to the station to be re-bonded, drop off my body receipts at the office, and still make it home in time to shower, shave, buff, and otherwise primp for my date tonight. Of course, nothing in my life ever goes according to plan. Mooner and Dougie wanted to wait until the I Dream of Jeanie episode they were watching was over, then Eddie and Carl corralled me to help settle a dispute over if it was Misty Wolzak and Jennie Bumridge who split her pants during the dance team's halftime show sophomore year. I was now stuck in traffic on Hamilton, held up by a semi that had stalled, blocking an intersection, and watching the precious minutes I had left before my date tick away.

I finally inched my way to a cross street and cut across to an alternate route back to my apartment. I have no idea what Bobby has planned for tonight other than it includes dinner, and he said I can dress anyway I want. I told him that was a dangerous thing to say because I might choose flannel pajama bottoms, a ratty t-shirt, and my fuzzy slippers. Surprisingly, he wasn't fazed by that and told me it would be perfectly fine. That worries me a little. What exactly does he have in mind for tonight?

I finally pull into the spot next to the dumpster and hurry up to my apartment. I dump my shoulder bag on the dining room table and grab one of my nicer pairs of jeans, ones without rips or unidentified stains from some of my run-ins with my skips, and a cute ruffled short-sleeve blouse, to take into the bathroom with me while I shower. I know there is no way I'll be ready by the time Bobby gets here, and I know he'll let himself in, so I don't want to have to run from the bathroom to my bedroom wrapped in only a towel.

I stepped into the shower and hurried to wash my hair and shave. Then grabbing my loofah, I reached for the bottle of vanilla-scented shower gel. The bottle of Bulgari I purloined from Ranger's apartment is hidden away under my sink. After he returned from his last mission and began actively avoiding me, it became too painful to see it sitting in my shower, but I couldn't bring myself to throw it out either.

When I shut the shower off, I can hear someone moving around my apartment and what sounds like pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. Interesting. I towel try my hair and run some of Mr. Alexander's miracle serum through it before pulling on the clothes I'd brought into the bathroom with me. I go with a light application of makeup and decide to let my curls airdry while I find out what Bobby and I are doing tonight.

I opened the bathroom door and walked out into my living room, then turned my attention to the kitchen when I hear a metallic clang. My eyes widened when I see Bobby making himself at home in my kitchen and my dining table set for two with a white linen table cloth and dishes that I didn't recognize. In the center of the table is a vase with a mix of yellow roses and shasta daisies.

"What's all this?" I asked Bobby as I walked over to greet him. I marveled at all the kitchen paraphernalia gracing my countertops. There were wood cutting boards, a set of expensive looking kitchen knives, measuring spoons and cups set out, and cookware on the stove that is nicer than I've ever seen outside of the shows on the Food Network.

Bobby sets down what looks like a wok on the stove and turns to greet me. "Hi, Steph!" He opened his arms, and I stepped in for his hug. "I heard there was a traffic tie up on Hamilton and thought you might have been caught in it, so I just let myself in when you didn't answer. I hope that's okay. I wanted to start getting set up."

"It's fine, Bobby. I assumed you were going to do that. But again, what's all this?" I gestured around my kitchen.

"We are going to cook dinner together," he said with a smile. "I didn't know what you had in your kitchen, so I brought everything that we need," he added with a shrug.

"You're a smart man on one count, Robert Brown. I have almost nothing in my kitchen, and what I do have isn't anywhere near as nice as what you brought, but I have to question your sanity. You said 'we are' cooking dinner, as in you and me, together?"

"Yep. That's what I said. So wash up at the sink and we'll get started."

"Woah! Have you thought this through? I don't think you want me participating in the cooking part, not if you want something edible."

"Why do you say that, Steph?"

"I'm a disaster in the kitchen. The only things I can successfully make are peanut butter and olive sandwiches and reheated leftovers."

"The only things you can make? Or the only things you try to make?" Bobby asked with a smile. "Come on. It will be fun. I promise."

What was that Ranger had once said to me about broadening my horizons? I was still skeptical but decided to roll with it. I went to the kitchen sink and began to wash my hands. "So what are we making tonight?"

"Chicken stir fry."

"So that is a wok on my stove? You have your own wok?"

Bobby laughed. "Yes, I have my own wok. I like Chinese food but not all the fat and sodium that comes with take out, so I make my own."

I felt my face fall a little. "Oh, this is healthy Chinese food."

"Healthier, but it still tastes great. I promise." I turned from drying my hands, and Bobby was leaning against the counter next to a large wood cutting board with a huge knife in his hands. "You're going to help me chop the vegetables."

"With that?" I nodded towards the knife he was holding.

He smiled and nodded in return. "No worries. I'll show you how to handle a chef's knife." He motioned for me to stand next to him, in front of the cutting board. "I washed all the vegetables while you were still getting ready, so they are ready to chop." He stepped behind me, placed the chef's knife in my right hand, keeping his hand on mine, and reached around me with his left hand to place a carrot on the cutting board. I could feel his hard body behind me. Why was it suddenly feeling very warm in my apartment? I refocused my attention on Bobby's instructions.

"Keep your fingers on your left hand tucked, so they are away from the knife, and let your knuckles guide the knife. Keep the tip of the knife in contact with the cutting board, and rock the knife down and slightly forward. Your left hand will move the carrot under the blade of the knife and your right hand will rock the knife down and forward to slice the carrot."

Bobby held my hand for the first few slices, then let go and stepped back to watch me do it on my own. I tried it and after a few tries, I started to pick up the rhythm and my chopping picked up speed.

"Good job, Steph. Nothing to it."

"Did you bring a first aid kit with you? This is an awfully sharp knife," I asked jokingly.

"In the big box by the door," Bobby answered, apparently missing that I was joking. He went over to the box and pulled out his large medical bag.

I raised my eyebrows and looked over my shoulder at him. "Really? The full medical bag?"

He shrugged. "I'm an Eagle Scout. I'm always prepared."

"Why does that not surprise me?" I laughed.

Bobby set his medical bag down and came back to the kitchen to supervise my work. I'm sure he'd prefer not to have put any of his first aid supplies to use tonight. I proceeded to chop the remainder of the carrots and started on the celery. Little by little, I was gaining more confidence with the knife. As I worked, he filled me in on the steps for cooking stir fry. Once the carrots and celery were chopped, he showed me how to easily cut up the bell peppers and broccoli. As I sliced small strips of red bell pepper, I decided to ask the questions that had been weighing on my mind.

"Bobby? How is Ranger? Did you ever get his medical records? Do you know what's going on with him?"

Bobby was quiet, and I thought he wasn't going to answer. I kept my focus on the knife and bell pepper. I didn't want to slice off a finger because I wasn't paying attention. I was wishing I'd moved on to the onion sitting next to the cutting board to give myself an excuse for the tears that were threatening to well up in my eyes. But then Bobby started to answer.

"I haven't gotten his medical records yet, and even if I had, I couldn't share anything from those with you."

"Oh no, Bobby. I wouldn't want you to," I protested.

"I don't want to violate his privacy, so there's only so much I can say. I don't think I'm overstepping my bounds if I tell you that he's finally taking steps to deal with what's bothering him."

I nodded, sniffling and blinking back the tears that had started to form. "Thanks. I appreciate you telling me what you can."

I was grateful to refocus my attention on the food. The lesson continued as he had me cut up the chicken breasts and mix up the stir fry sauce. He'd already started the rice cooking. Before I knew it, we were finishing up the stir fry and spooning it onto the dishes Bobby had brought with him. Sitting down at my dining table, I took a bite while Bobby poured us two glasses of white wine. My eyes closed, and I moaned in appreciation.

Bobby chuckled softly. "So this meets with your approval?"

"Yes! It's even better than my favorite take out. How'd you learn to cook like this?"

"I started teaching myself to cook when I was in high school. My dad worked for a construction company and worked long hours. He'd be gone when I got up for school and often wouldn't be home until after 6:00. Once my sister and I were old enough to be home alone after school, my mom went back to work as an administrative assistant for a law firm. There were nights when she didn't get home until almost dinner time, and she'd be exhausted from a long day at work. So I started fixing dinner so neither one of them would have to worry about it when they got home. I would read cookbooks like other people read novels. I started with basic things like spaghetti and worked my way up to more complicated recipes."

"I wish I could cook like this," I sighed.

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at me. "But you can, Steph. You did. Tonight, you cooked this. I was just here to supervise and give some tips."

"No, Bobby, you don't understand. If you weren't here, this would have been a disaster. I'm a complete failure in the kitchen."

"The only people who are failures in the kitchen are people who think a failure means they can't learn to cook. People who are successful at cooking know that failures are a learning experience. Do you know how many times I failed at cooking rice?"

"But Bobby, this rice is perfect," I said, taking another bite.

"It's perfect because I didn't give up the first time I tried and burnt it so bad I had to throw the pan out. There were times it came out as mush, or hard, or too wet, or too dry. I just kept trying until I got it right. Cooking is just like anything else in life. It takes practice to get good at it."

"So my date with you tonight comes with life lessons as well as cooking lessons?" I laughed and smiled to let him know it wasn't a criticism.

"You bet," he responded with a smile and a wink before taking a sip of wine.

"Seems like I'm getting life lessons from just about everyone lately," I said softly before taking another bite of my stir fry.

Bobby tipped his head. "Who else has been imparting wisdom on you?"

"Tank, Mary Lou, Ranger's sister Elena."

"I heard you and Elena tied one on last week."

I groaned. "Don't remind me. My head hurts just thinking about that night."

"So what life lesson did Elena offer?"

"She told me that, with everything I've been through, I could benefit from seeing a therapist. I wasn't sure I was going to do it, but then Tank came over last night after I got home from dinner at my parents, and he told me he agreed with her."

"That's some solid advice from both of them. So you said you weren't sure, past tense. Does that mean you've decided to do it?"

"Yeah," I said softly. "Elena gave me a recommendation for a therapist at the practice where she works. I called this morning and made an appointment for Monday. I'd already planned to meet Elena for lunch that day and the therapist had a cancellation so I was able to get an appointment right before our lunch. It's like it was a sign that I'm making the right decision."

"You are making the right decision."

"I've been thinking about some other things Tank said last night."

"Such as?"

"It started with him mentioning that if I were a regular RangeMan employee, I would have been required to undergo counseling after the kidnappings, car bombs, and such."

"That's true," Bobby confirmed.

"He said you guys didn't push the issue with me because my employment was so sporadic and also you were afraid my stubborn side would take over, and I would rebel and end up not calling you for help when I needed it." Embarrassed, I was focused on my plate, not meeting Bobby's eyes.

"That's also true."

"But then he mentioned a whole list of other policies that you guys didn't enforce with me, like mandatory gym time, range time, physical fitness standards, and self-defense training." I pushed the last couple bites of food around my plate with my fork.

"Yes," Bobby said almost tentatively.

I took a deep breath. It was time to put on those big girl panties again. I finally looked up and looked Bobby straight in the eyes. "I think about all the times Ranger has had to save me. All he's gone through for me. I think it's past time for me to start taking my safety a little more seriously. I keep thinking about all the scrapes I've been in that might have been avoided if I'd had my gun or knew some self-defense moves. I mean, Ranger jumped off a bridge for me. The least I could do is carry my gun so maybe he doesn't have to do something like that again."

Bobby's face lit up with a smile. "We'd all be thrilled if you'd carry your gun with you, loaded, on a regular basis."

"In addition to carrying my gun, I think I need to work on my physical fitness and get some self-defense training. Would you and the guys help me?"

Bobby's smile grew larger, until he was beaming. "Absolutely! I'd love to help, and I know the other guys will too. What did you have in mind?"

"Well… I'd like you to help me with a fitness program. I don't like running, so I was hoping you could help me with things to do other than run."

Bobby's smile fell a little. "Steph, I can certainly design a program without running that will help you get in better shape, but don't you think you're cheating yourself a little?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"What gives you the most trouble when you are bringing in skips?"

"The Molotov cocktails they throw at my cars?"

"True, but I was thinking more along the lines of the fact that there are 80 year olds that are able to outrun you."

I dropped my head in shame. He was right.

"It seems to me that as much as you hate running, any program that is going to help you be safer should include at least some running. Being in better shape from other cardio exercise would help, but if you really want to improve on your ability to catch up to the skips that take off, you need to condition yourself with running."

I nodded. There was no denying that truth. "You're right."

"But what I can do is design a program that changes up the cardio exercise so you aren't running every day. Plus we will build in some strength training. How does that sound?"

I looked up at him and smiled. "That sounds perfect."

"Would you be comfortable coming to RangeMan to use the gym sometimes? Not every day, but maybe a couple days a week? Plus, if you want us to help you with your gun, you could use our range. If you aren't comfortable with it, that's fine. I know Ranger's behavior has caused you to stay away from the building. I can give you body weight exercises you could do here in your apartment, and we could go to Sunny's to use the range there."

I thought about it. When I was started staying away from the building, it was because I thought Ranger didn't want to have anything to do with me. But since Elena and the guys have assured me that isn't the case, that he's just working through something from his last mission, maybe I could soften my stance and spend some time at Haywood. I'm really enjoying being around all the Merry Men again.

"Okay, I'll come to RangeMan two days a week for now and see how it goes."

Bobby's full smile returned in force, and I mirrored it. Maybe this behaving like an adult thing wasn't half bad.

"So what's for dessert?" I asked eagerly. Certainly a Merry Man wouldn't leave me hanging with no dessert.

"It's in the freezer."

"Ice cream?" I asked hopefully.

"Nope. Fresh fruit sorbet. But trust me, you'll love it."

And I did.