It was a beautiful day. Full-on sunshine and seventy degrees. I was in the SUV next to Ranger, and I was thinking about the beach. Forty-five minutes away. I wanted to push all thoughts of the deli aside, spread a blanket on the sand, and lay there listening to the surf, feeling the sun on my face.

"We should go to Point Pleasant," I said. "We could lay on the beach and hold hands."

"Babe," Ranger said.

His voice was soft and wistful. Okay, wistful might be a stretch for Ranger, but there was a quality there that wasn't familiar. Or maybe I was just projecting my own feelings. God knows, I felt wistful. We were halfway down stark, almost to State Street, and Ranger pulled to the curb.

"We can't go to the beach," he said. "Is there something else? Would you like an ice cream cone? Flowers? A kitten?"

"A kiss," I said.

He leaned across the console and kissed me. Gentle. Loving. Wistful.

We sat quietly with our foreheads connected, breathing in one another. Ranger twisted his fingers into my brown curls, and my heartrate cranked up a notch.

"Stephanie, I…" Ranger said on a whisper, stopping before he could disclose what was on his mind.

We pulled apart and our eyes connected. His eyes disclosed a regret I'd never seen before.

"What?" I asked, longing to know what was going on in his head.

He shook his head as if to clear it, placing his hand on the gear shift between us.

"Nothing."

"Don't do that," I said softly. "Don't shut me out. Talk to me."

He cut his eyes to me, his face betraying that I'd called his shit. He sighed.

"What do you want to hear, Stephanie?" he said, his voice almost sad.

"The truth," I said softly.

He stared out the window of the Porsche, a faraway look in his eyes. After a long moment, he turned to me, studying my face. I felt my heart catch in my throat under his intense gaze.

"On our trip to the market, we discussed marital skills."

"I remember," I said hesitantly, remembering the desire to rip his clothes off.

"I warded off marriage a long time ago. Relationships weren't compatible with my career. With my life," he admitted.

"I know," I sighed, hearing this all-too-familiar excuse for the umpteenth time.

Here we go again, I thought.

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out the passenger window to the Stark Street sidewalk, trying to distract myself from the hurt that was building in my chest.

"I've hurt you," he acknowledged. "I've pushed you away, again and again. Pushed you back to Morelli."

I swallowed hard, blinking away tears that threatened to spill over at the memories.

"I thought he was better for you… could give you what you wanted," Ranger continued.

A pregnant silence sat between us, punctuated only by our breath.

Ranger finally spoke.

"Stephanie, I was wrong. About all of it."

I gave him the disbelieving side-eye as he uncharacteristically ran his hand through his hair. Nervous. Very un-Rangerlike.

"If… uh…"

I raised an eyebrow, my growing disbelief approaching dumbstruck territory.

"I love you," he finally said, his voice soft and full of an emotion I couldn't quite pinpoint. "I didn't know how… when… to tell you. It hit me like a truck. All at once. I didn't mean for it to happen, but…"

I cut him off, unbuckling and launching myself into his arms. Our lips connected, sharing a gentle kiss full longing. Our lips connected again, and again, until I had to stop to gasp for air.

"I need to finish," Ranger panted, his brown eyes boring into mine.

I nodded as I breathed in his Bulgari shower gel, my heart nearly pounding out of my chest.

"I wouldn't ask you to leave Morelli," Ranger said almost sadly. "But if you ever want to try with me… everything is on the table."

I stared at him in open-mouth surprise. His expression was pensive. Unsure. This was a side of Ranger I never got to see. The man behind the mask, so to speak.

Scenes of Ranger and I played through my head like a movie, and I was helpless to stop it. Meeting him in the diner that day at Connie's request. Uncuffing me from my shower rod. The first time I kissed him. Creeping into his bed like Goldilocks. The cars. The odd jobs to keep me afloat. Vlatco. Scrog. An unforgettable trip to Hawaii. Pulling me from a cupboard. Jumping into the Delaware to rescue me.

When had it happened? When did he decide he loved me?

I could pinpoint when it had happened for me. I finally acknowledged my heart had crossed the threshold of lust into love when Ranger walked into my apartment to rescue Julie and me from Edward Scrog's sick fantasy. It was a gut-wrenching realization that I had later bottled up and buried under half a ton of Tastycakes and a six pack of beer. Loving a man I couldn't have was like wishing the tide would stop rolling in at Atlantic City. It was a waste of my time and mental energy. I'd put my eggs in the Morelli basket out of convenience, and it had been a frustrating and unfulfilling ride.

But hadn't I known? Sure, I'd suspected Ranger loved me—in his own way, as he'd often say. But more than a few nights in his bed and a stolen kiss in the alley behind the bonds office had never been on the table. Until now.

"Everything?" I asked breathlessly, studying his face for any sign he regretted his offer.

He gave a single nod, his face somber. Serious. Unrepenting. He meant it.

"Why?" I asked softly, placing a hand on his chest.

He looked at me with furrowed brows, not understanding the question.

"Why did you change your mind?" I rephrased.

"I can't imagine a life without you," he said almost sadly. "It's not a life worth living. I'd give up everything in my life that's incompatible with relationships to keep you. You deserve more."

He placed his hand on my face, his thumb stroking the apple of my cheek. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my body still splayed awkwardly over the console of the car.

"You love me?" I asked.

He nodded.

"I do."

"You love me," I babbled nearly incoherently.

"Babe," he said, his tone betraying slight amusement.

I scrambled to get my brain back in the game.

"I love you, too," I confessed too quickly.

The corner of Ranger's mouth tipped into a half grin.

"Babe," he said.

When Ranger said 'Babe,' it could mean almost anything depending on his tone and inflection. It could be a greeting. It could be to admonish something foolish I'd done. It could be an apology. A warning. I laugh. A grimace. In this case, I was pretty sure it meant, "I know."

I gave him a light, playful punch, but he pulled me close and kissed me senseless.

"About Point Pleasant?" I murmured.

"No can do today," he said sadly. "The Death Deli awaits."

I sighed.

"I'm here if and when you're ready," Ranger said, straightening himself in his seat.

I righted myself as well and buckled into the seatbelt. Then I dug around in my messenger bag, extracting my cell phone. I typed some text into a message and sent it off into oblivion. Then I turned my phone off and put it away.

Ranger raised his eyebrow at me.

"I texted Morelli that I want to see other people."

Ranger gave me his two-hundred-watt smile and took my hand in his across the console.

"Babe."