A/N: The final chapter in this short fast-paced story. I hope you enjoy it.

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Chapter Two

Forty-five minutes later, I was wiping the tears and mascara from underneath my eyes. I hadn't laughed so much on a date in forever. Not that this was an actual date or anything, I reminded myself. We polished off the last of the pizza and downed our beer.

"You ready?" Les smiled at me.

"Yeah," I replied, thinking I could talk to him for another hour.

Smart and good-natured, he was easy to be around. No one-word answers or cryptic replies. Even though they were cousins, it wasn't really fair to compare him to Ranger, but I couldn't help myself.

"Earth to Stephanie." Les caught my attention, pulling me back from memory lane. "Where did you go?"

"Nowhere."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're hungry." Les' expression dared me to deny it.

My shoulder tilted up. "I'm more of a pot roast and mashed potatoes kind of girl."

We both knew I wasn't talking about food. Les was the king of one-night stands, and I didn't do casual. Disappointing or not, this was going nowhere.

"And what am I?" He challenged.

I mulled it around for a minute before I finally answered.

"A shot of tequila. Something I like a lot, that impairs my judgment and lowers my inhibitions, but isn't good for me."

"Something you regret in the morning."

"Exactly, because I don't want a shot of tequila. I want the whole margarita."

"Hmm, and Ranger? What's he?"

"Gone," I stated flatly.

"And you're not waiting for him to come back?"

"No."

When I said it, I realized that was the truth. For the first few months, I hoped he would return, sweep me into his arms, and tell me he made a terrible mistake. Pledge his love and confess he couldn't live without me. Then reality kicked in, and I pulled up my big girl panties and moved on. Ranger had always been more of a fantasy than a reality. Fire and magic, smoke and mirrors.

Les threw a couple of bills on the table and we left, both of us ignoring the awkward conversation. As we drove, I studied his profile. Sharp angles, sculpted jaw, straight nose. Eyes that told you everything when he let his guard down. He could be hard or soft. Funny or serious. I always wondered why he chose quantity over quality in his female companions. Les had a lot to offer a woman.

"I can hear you thinking from over here." Les teased and glanced over.

"I was just wondering why you don't have a girlfriend."

Les chewed on my question for a moment. I expected him to make a joke, but he didn't, and his raw honesty was as startling as it was refreshing. No mysterious references to karma, just the unvarnished truth sprinkled with a healthy dose of self-reflection.

"When I was in the Teams, I didn't believe it would be fair. I figured I would come home in a body bag, and I didn't want anyone to have that burden. The pain of losing someone you love and not even knowing why or how."

"And after?"

"I came home physically whole, but not mentally. I witnessed some fucked-up shit, and I had a hard time adjusting to civilian life. Night terrors, PTSD. I bounced around and got into a fair number of fights and scrapes with the law. A part of me was afraid I'd wake up choking someone, or worse."

He glanced over and gave me a half-shrug. "No woman needs that kind of problem, and a good woman has a soft heart. She wants to help, and foisting that kind of drama on her would be unfair. A woman deserves to be loved, cherished, and protected. It's not her job to raise you, and it's not her job to glue your broken ass back together."

"Do you still have night terrors?"

"Not much anymore, and never as bad. Just the occasional nightmare."

"Why stick with casual?"

Les blew out a long breath before he continued.

"Therapy and time helped, but by then I didn't see the point. A lot of what I do is still dangerous, and my hours are whack. You know how it is. Women get turned on by the whole mercenary thing, but then reality sets in when I'm gone for weeks or work crazy hours, and things turn sour. I can't give them what they need, want, or deserve, and then they resent me."

Les scrunched up his nose and gripped the wheel tighter. "It's just easier, I guess."

Ranger and Les weren't so different, and an unexpected disappointment crashed over me and mingled with sadness.

"So, what you're saying is your life doesn't lend itself to relationships." I hated the bitterness that crept in.

Les shook his head. "Probably not, but that's not to say I don't want one. I'm more selfish than Ric. I know I'm a bad bet, but if I found a woman that didn't care and could accept my job." His voice trailed off.

"Then why all the one-night stands? Or half-night stands, I guess. You never spend the night."

He grinned the trademark Santos grin. "Because I like sex."

Despite the cheery exterior, there was an undercurrent of darkness to that statement, and I pushed for more.

"And," I prodded, giving him my full attention.

He was quiet for a long while, and I assumed he wouldn't answer. When he did, my heart cracked.

"It keeps the loneliness beat back. We both have a little fun and I don't have to worry about explaining why I wake up in a cold sweat screaming."

I reached over and squeezed his hand. When I moved to pull it away, he held on, and we drove through the night, hands entwined.

"What kind of margarita?" Les asked after a while.

I peered out the window and watched the buildings flash by. "Strawberry," I replied. "I like sweet and strong."

He squeezed my hand. "Me too."

We pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building and he cut the engine.

"I'll walk you up," Les declared and was out of the vehicle, rounding the front to open my door before I could respond.

When we got to the apartment, my hands shook so badly, Les took my keys and reached around me to open the door. I was having some bizarre combination of a hot flash and a panic attack. My heart raced like a greyhound around a track, and I was sweating like someone had dropped me into the jungle. That weird muggy sweat even when it's cool.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and licked my lips, stalling for something to say. My apartment had shrunk by half, and all the oxygen seemed to have been sucked out in a giant vortex, along with my common sense.

"Thanks for dinner," I said, and my eyes flicked around nervously. Rex was running on his wheel. The rhythmic whir, punctuated with the occasional squeak and the hum of the refrigerator, were the only sounds. "Want a beer or something?"

That predatory gleam sparked in his eyes, and I swallowed around the rock lodged in my throat.

"Something." Deep, silky, intoxicating.

It almost seemed like Les was talking to himself, reconciling his thoughts, and coming up with a confusing answer. I could relate. Since he stepped through the door, dominating the space between us, I couldn't think of a single reason he should leave. I was tired of being alone. Of being a good girl. All that had gotten me was a hamster, and a broken toaster.

Maybe it was time to let go and enjoy the moment for once. Not worry about tomorrow. If I didn't make things weird, Les wouldn't either. Our friendship would survive and our RangeMan partnership would be intact. I'd get one night of brain-melting sex with a guy that I trusted with my life. Trusting him to see me naked wasn't really a stretch.

He took a step toward me and I took an echoing step forward, and we came toe-to-toe. My eyes were eye level with his throat, where his pulse ticked wildly. The fresh clean scent coupled with purely masculine undertones tickled my nostrils, and my hand landed on his chest as he gripped my hip. The steady thump of his heart beat against my palm, and my eyes remained riveted to the dent at the base of his throat. This was bad on so many levels, it almost felt right. We stood there as awareness and uncertainty shimmered around us.

"I should go."

Les' voice was husky, and the timbre had dropped. The sound danced along my nerves, lighting each one of them on fire before it skipped to the next. My entire body, from the tip of my head to my toes, flushed hot.

The hand on his chest was now gripping his shirt, anchoring him in place. "Probably," I agreed, but didn't sound very convincing.

"Or I could kiss you." Goosebumps erupted all over my body as the low, growly tone vibrated through my chest.

"Or you could do that." I agreed.

My eyes remained firmly locked on the pulse thumping at the base of his neck. His big, warm hand encircled my throat, and he used his thumb to tilt my chin up, forcing me to look at him. His hooded gaze blazed with heat, and the ache that originated somewhere south of my belly button tipped over into an insistent throb.

His mouth hovered above mine; his warm breath brushed my cheek, as he debated the wisdom of his next move. My eyes fluttered closed and my lips parted in invitation. When his mouth settled over mine, it was like the wind had caught a glowing ember whipping it into an uncontrolled wildfire that burned hot and fast, scorching everything in its path. We moved in sync, our lips, our bodies, as we came together with frenzied force. His tongue flicked out in a quick tease before he latched onto my mouth like a starving man. Feasting like I was his last supper, leaving no part of my mouth undiscovered.

His hands roamed my back and slid down, squeezing my ass. The groan of masculine appreciation tingled my nerves and sent a delicious shiver through my body that settled low in my belly.

Les hoisted me up, drawing us closer. My thighs reflexively wrapped around his waist, and my arms tangled around his neck. Our need was no longer restrained, and it roared with a life of its own, consuming every objection. The genie was out of the bottle, and there was no putting it back. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't ignore the chemistry that exploded between us. Things would never be the same, and I was way past caring, struck by how natural it felt.

My hands fisted in his hair, my nails scraped across his scalp, frantically drawing him closer, as I tried to inhale every breath and explore every contour. His hard length was trapped between my thighs, and a decadent moan erupted as he pressed into my throbbing core. Instinctively, I rode him. I lifted and rolled my hips, not even aware of what I was doing. Desperate to ease the ache. To get closer and feel every inch of his body.

Consumed with the decadent dance our bodies choreographed, I didn't register we were moving until my back hit the mattress and Les came down over me, settling between my legs.

"This is probably a bad idea," I whispered in between peppered kisses along his sculpted jaw and down his throat.

"No beautiful this is what you call a full-blown catastrophe," he murmured as he placed hot, open-mouth kisses on my neck, touched the tip of his tongue to the dent at the base of my throat, and licked and kissed along my collarbone leaving a trail of fire blazing in his wake.

"We should probably stop," I said, as my legs wrapped around his waist and I rubbed shamelessly against him, pulling him closer.

"Definitely," Les replied as his hand slid up my ribcage, and cupped my breast, his thumb brushing across my nipple, causing my back to arch. A sound I had never made before bubbled from my throat.

"Or we could stop talking and you could use your mouth for other things." I offered.

"I like that idea," Les agreed as he dragged my jeans over my hips and down my legs, his tongue trailing south to my abdomen and then lower as he settled between my thighs.

And then I had a brand-new kind of religious experience, where I cried a soft repetition of oh god, oh god, over and over and shattered into a million little pieces, screaming Les' name.

Sometime later, sweaty, tangled in the sheets, panting for air, I stared at the ceiling, dazed and confused. It felt like I'd survived a bombing, and maybe I had. This thing between us had detonated like a nuclear explosion, and little aftershocks still twinged through my body like lightning strikes. I knew I would be feeling him this time next week, and a delicious shiver pulsed up my spine. If there was one thing I could say about Les, it was he knew how to pleasure a woman, and he put the same focus and intensity into it as he did everything else in his life.

Les' heavy arm draped across my abdomen, and his breath was ragged.

"Holy shit." He wheezed between gulps of air.

That was an understatement, but I kept my opinion to myself. My limbs were like jelly and my lips tingled from too many frantic kisses to form actual words, so I made some vague noise of concurrence, and promptly drifted to sleep, thinking Les could let himself out after he recovered from the sex coma. I'd worry about what all this meant tomorrow when I woke up alone.

A few blissful hours later, I startled awake, aware something was different. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, and I blinked away sleep, and Les' face swam into view. Propped on his elbow, he looked down at me and drew lazy circles on my stomach.

"You're still here." My voice held an accusatory note as the memories of last night crashed through my mind like a tsunami, upending all the things I thought I knew about Les, and demolishing things I believed about myself.

His brows furrowed together. "Of course I am." Hurt flashed across his face. "Do you not want me to be here?"

"No, yes, no." I took a deep breath and started over. "Yes, I wanted you to be here, but I didn't expect it."

"I like being here." Unfiltered honesty. I realized it was a welcome change.

I studied his face. He seemed softer somehow, relaxed. Not antsy to leave or freaked out by spending the night.

"You OK, with what happened last night?" Les asked. Concern etched across his face.

I considered it for a second, letting it soak in, absorbing the reality. The soreness between my legs brought into vivid relief exactly what we had done multiple times.

"Yeah, I'm good." I was relieved to find it was the truth.

He brushed a soft kiss across my lips. "Me too."

With that, he rolled me under him and reminded me just how magical last night had been.

In the days that followed, we didn't talk about it or try to define our relationship. Things between us happened organically. Most nights Les came over and we had dinner, watched a game, or had sheet-clawing sex. Usually, all three. His toothbrush sat in the holder on the bathroom sink, and his clothes took over one of my drawers. No fuss, no muss. No drama, hand waving, or tears.

After the first night, he casually told me he deleted his online dating profile, and I stopped letting my mom fix me up on dates. We drifted into a committed relationship that nobody seemed surprised about.

Things clicked along at a steady, easy pace, which is what confused me about his current behavior. I let myself into the apartment, looking forward to a cold beer and a movie. Les was in the living room, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger, wearing a hole in the carpet. When he saw me, he ran an agitated hand through his hair.

I dropped my messenger bag on the table and faced him, my heart thumping a staccato beat against my ribs. "What's wrong?"

"Ranger's back," he stated without preamble or inflection.

I sucked in a sharp breath as my body flashed cold. My knees buckled, and I sat down hard on the kitchen chair. I scrubbed my hand down my face and tried to calm my racing heart. This was it. Les was going to leave me. Now that his cousin was back, he wouldn't want to create an issue or make anyone uncomfortable, and our relationship or fling, or whatever it was, had become an obstacle. Why else would he be pacing like a wild animal, about to gnaw his leg off to escape? The lump in my throat threatened to choke me and all I could do was make a strangled sound as my world crashed and burned.

Les was studying me, and grimaced. "Yeah, OK. I'll be going."

With that, he slammed out of my apartment, closing the door with enough force to rattle the windows. Stunned, I sat there for a second. He was mad at me. I sprang up and raced out after him, spurred into action by the knowledge he had misinterpreted my surprise.

"Wait," I shrieked as his back disappeared through the stairwell door.

Mr. Morganthal poked his head out to see what all the fuss was about.

"Sorry, it's fine," I yelled as I ran down the hall.

Mr. Morganthal made some unintelligible sound, retreated into his apartment, and slammed his front door.

Les was on the landing when I pushed into the stairwell and skidded to a stop.

"Stop," I ordered.

Les complied, but didn't turn around. I could tell he was mentally bracing himself.

"Look at me."

His expression was blank when he turned and faced me.

"Where are you going?" I demanded.

"Ranger's back," he said like that answered all my questions.

I crossed my arms. "So."

A crease furrowed between his brows. "You're in love with Ranger, and he loves you too."

A humorless smile graced my face. "For a smart guy, you can be an idiot."

His brow cocked up, the only indication I had called him an idiot. "Care to explain."

"Ranger's my friend, and yeah, I thought I was in love with him, but it turns out I was more in love with the idea of him. The reality never really meshed."

"But Ranger loves you," Les replied, not quite buying my logic or my explanation.

I nodded. "He does. In his own way, and we both agreed that wasn't enough for me or a relationship. I need and want more. He can't give it and I won't settle, so friends is where that leaves us. Ranger never once lied to me. He was honest about what he was capable of from the beginning, and he was clear he didn't think it would change."

"You don't want him back."

I shook my head and Les climbed the stairs and stood in front of me.

"Were you really just going to throw away everything?" I asked, trying to rein in my building anger.

"I want you to be happy. To have what you want."

"Ranger's not it." I practically growled.

"What do you want?"

"You." I looked down and toed the floor, shoring up my resolve before meeting his eyes. "I think I might love you."

Les' eyes widened in surprise. The corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to break into that trademark Santos grin that could light up an entire room.

"Might?"

"Ok, I think I do." I hedged.

He crossed his arms. "Think?"

I blew a curl out of my face and rolled my eyes. "I love you, OK."

Les smiled. "OK."

He kissed my forehead. "I love you too." He whispered against my skin, and my arms wrapped around his waist.

We held each other for a minute, and he rested his chin on the top of my head. "We should make this more official. Find an apartment that works for us and move in together. Just the three of us."

My eyes narrowed. "The three of us. You better not be giving your dick personhood. I mean, it's an awesome dick, but I draw the line at referring to it as an independent entity."

"He does make a lot of my decisions." Les offered helpfully.

I snorted, loud and unladylike.

Les chuckled. "Rex. I'm talking about Rex. If I'm going to be a good hamster dad, I have to consider these things. He is kind of the reason we got together."

"Good point."

"So that's a yes?" He asked.

"Yes."

He kissed the top of my head and disentangled and headed for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Disbelief rang in my voice like a bell. "We just agreed to move in, and you're leaving?" That kid from the exorcist didn't have anything on me.

"I'm going to go tell Ranger and take the beating I expect is coming."

"Ranger already knows." I blurted out.

Les stopped and stood very still. "What do you mean Ranger knows?" He asked and eyed me like an escaped zoo animal.

I shrugged and did a palms-up gesture. "Ranger and I talked a lot over the last few months while you were out on patrol. We settled things between us, and we talked about you. About us, and how I feel about you. He's happy for us."

I was pretty sure Les' eyebrows were about to disappear in his hairline. "You took relationship advice from Ranger?" His voice had gone up an octave and seemed to be in competition with his brows.

I nodded. "Yep. He's surprisingly good at it when it's not about himself."

"Isn't that a little like taking flying lessons from a train conductor?" Les shot me a dubious look.

"You know what they say. Those that can't do teach."

A snort erupted. "Life will never be boring with you around."

I grinned. "How about we go back inside and celebrate moving in together? Give Rex an extra raisin."

"Yeah, all right." Les hooked his arm around me and pressed a kiss to the side of my head. "I'm a lucky man Stephanie Plum."

"And I'm a lucky woman, Les Santos."

"Do you think Stephanie Santos is going to sound weird?" Les teased.

I elbowed him in the ribs, eliciting a grunt, surprised to find the idea of marriage somewhere down the road didn't lead to a panic attack.

"Not any weirder than Les Plum."

"Oh gorgeous, I love it when you talk dirty to me."

Les swung me up in his arms, and I gave a startled laugh. Mr. Morganthal poked his head out to see what all the racket was about and mumbled something about kids these days. I was still laughing when we closed the door and started the celebration.

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A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing.