Disclaimer: See first chapter.
Author's Note: Hi! Sorry 'bout the delay... a Charmed story appeared in my head, grabbed onto my brain and wouldn't let go.
Anywho... here's another chapter.
Hope you all like.
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE REVIEWS!
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We'd spent the night together.
We'd slept together.
I stared at myself in the mirror, noting that the bruises had faded, and repeated these phrases over and over again.
I'd never imagined that I'd be able to say these words in reference to myself and Ricardo Carlos Manaso and mean it purely, completely, absolutelyin the most literal way.
It was 2:00 pm, apparently we'd slept in. I was showered and dressed and very frustrated with this entire situation.
I was about to begin contemplatingmy frustrationwhen there was a quick knock on the door, followed by it being thrust open.
Ranger walked in, shut the door, and then leaned back against it. I stared at him. His hair was cut and he was dressed in faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved gray sweater. If it weren't for the washboard abs, the muscled arms, and the intense dark eyes he'd look almost like a normal guy.
A normal guy who made my mouth water and my heart start pounding.
"You're supposed to wait till someone says come in." I told him, hoping he wouldn't notice that I was little breathless.
He didn't say anything just studied me; I fidgeted, "What?" I asked.
"My mom's been talking about you non-stop since I left my room." He said softly.
"Oh."
"You hung out with the boys yesterday."
I nodded, "Why is that such a big deal?" I asked.
He shrugged, "Because you didn't have to. Because no one asked you to. Because no one expected you to."
I met his gaze, "It kept me busy… keeping them busy."
He nodded, understanding in his gaze. Then he added softly, "Marcus told me you were seen in the kitchen with Nica."
I didn't say anything. I mean what could I say?
"She's having difficulty adjusting to the changes in her life."
Okay, now I know what to say.
"You could help her," I told him.
"I've tried-"
"You have?" I cut him off with the question.
He frowned at me, and from my vantage point it was a quelling look, but I wasn't ready to be quelled.
"Yes, I have." He answered me firmly.
"I don't think she's realized that." I told him, "I think maybe you need to try harder, 'cause she's not even aware you're trying."
"I got shot for her." His voice wasn't any louder, but I got the feeling he was yelling inside. "I put my brothers in danger for her."
I felt the risings of panic inside my stomach. I'm not good with communicating feelings and stuff. But obviously someone needed to tell Ranger what was going on in his daughter's head – she definitely wasn't going to.
"Yeah," I said softly looking up at him, "But I don't think it's that kind of trying she needs. I think she needs to know that…" I faltered, trying to imagine what that girl could be feeling. Trying to imagine what I would've needed if I'd lost my mom at that age. "… that there's someone else out there who's willing to put up with her. Someone else who cares whether or not she does her homework and wears her gloves when it's cold."
He held my eyes a moment longer, before breaking eye contact and transferring his gaze to his boots as if they were the most fascinating thing on earth.
"I do the best I can when it comes to my daughter, Stephanie, I always have. I've always given her everything. She's never wanted for anything. She's always had the best. I don't know what else I can do."
I did.
And I was about to let him know when he spoke.
Changing the topic to one I'm sure he knew would distract me, "Did you sleep well last night?"
Gulp.
"Uh…." My brain turned to mush as I remembered the feeling of being held securely in his arms, of being lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his breathing; the comfort of lying against his broad chest and feeling strength there and the safety of his heartbeat.
It made a flush of warmth spread through and set off a tingling sensation in my body. And all we'd done was sleep!
He frowned a little when I said nothing more, "You okay, Babe?" He asked pushing away from the door, walking towards me.
I met his concerned dark eyes and the world tilted a little, my breathing got harder and I swear I saw spots. Because at that moment I realized something, something that took me so much by surprise that I couldn't hide it.
I opened my mouth but no words came out.
He knelt in front of me.
"Stephanie?" He asked, his tone concerned, as it should be. I was sitting there staring at him with what I could only imagine was a shell shocked look on my face.
Why?
Because that's how I felt - shell shocked – What I was feeling… I'd never felt for anyone else… definitely not my ex-husband and not even Joe.
I mean, let's face it, Dickie didn't even count.
Joe counted but….
I'd never felt this… content after a night with Joe.
Satisfied – usually.
Pleased – sure.
Frustrated – sometimes.
Other times – angry at myself or him or both of us.
But never content.
Content was a whole new pot of coffee… at least for me it was.
Content was a look I associated with my mother. When the whole family was at the table and eating her food and not fighting and the house was spotless and the laundry done and I hadn't blown everything up in a week and her granddaughters were dressed nice – my mother was content.
Content was a longevity look.
I wasn't ready to be content…
"Babe, you're scaring me." I heard him say.
Good, 'cause we're in deep shit.
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I did it again.
I spoke out loud.
He blinked in surprise, before frowning again. "What are you talking about?" He asked warily.
Definitely I wasn't ready to share what I was talking about. Definitely I needed to think on it, maybe get psychiatrical evaluation.
But he was waiting for an answer.
I swallowed hard, "Uh… I just… uh… how's your shoulder?"
Yeah, lame, but hey he'd switched the subject before too.
The frown diminished a little but not much. "It's okay; doesn't hurt too bad." He smirked suddenly, "How 'bout your shoulder?"
I found myself smirking too as I pushed the contentment-thoughts away, there was humor in that, "Almost no pain at all."
"And the head."
"Not bad."
He arched an eyebrow. I sighed, "If I get up too quickly I get dizzy, but there's no pain."
"I'll pass that along to Lane."
"Did you tear you're stitches this morning."
"Not really… not a lot anyway…"
"Was she mad?"
He grinned suddenly and stood; he walked over to the bed and sat down than he patted it, motioning for me to come sit down next to him. I did, pulling my legs up and sitting Indian style facing him.
It looked like we were going to talk. I tried to calm my racing heart, but was having a little difficulty. My new discovery comprised with that grin he was giving me and the fact that we weren't just talking, we were conversing was making me almost lightheaded.
It was almost like I was getting to know him. For real. As a person. And the more I saw - the more I liked Bruce Wayne.
And that was… frankly a little scary.
Because I knew Batman didn't do relationships.
But Bruce Wayne was a whole different ball game.
"I'll let you in on a secret Babe," he said conspiringly.
All thoughts of relationships flew out of my immediately.
Learning a secret took precedence over – everything… well maybe not a Nordstrom Shoe Sale… but even that was a maybe.
"Lane acts real tough when it comes to bossing us around, but," he said with the emphasis of a brother, "All you gotta do is pout a little or sigh or hell do both and she's putty in your hands."
I shook my head, "She was really pissed at Marcus last night, and when she saw you lying on you stomach she glared at your back so hard I thought a whole would appear."
The grin faded a little as a super innocent expression took over his face, he shrugged, looking down, "Well, she really couldn't be mad at me you know. Not when I'd gotten hurt and she'd sedated me for no good reason. She hadn't even asked me to go to bed. She just assumed I wouldn't. And she knows I hate needles, and she took me by surprise and frankly…" he sighed, "I felt a little betrayed."
I went completely still. He was looking up at me through lowered lashes and suddenly I couldn't breathe.
I felt the sudden urge to wrap him in my arms and just - hold him. Followed by the urge to laugh out loud.
Instead I shook my head, "Wow." I said with real awe.
He grinned, the innocent look disappearing.
"I don't know what to say… I just… that is so low… I mean… I can't believe you… that's just playing dirty…"
He laughed, "Like you've never played dirty with your sister."
"I've never played anything with my sister. Valerie's from a different planet than me."
He grinned, "If you think that's bad. You should see some of the stuff she pulls with Ralphie. She actually cried when he said he was taking a year off after high school."
I smiled, "I was told she got her claws him before he could walk."
"She got him so worked up – with her sighs, and her quiet tears, and subtle hints about being left behind and not needed anymore - that the year off turned to six months and he came home in five."
"You're all really close aren't you?" It was a question, but I already knew the answer. It was obvious. Everywhere. In every look and word and action. These siblings were more than just family. They were friends.
He didn't answer; I guess he knew he didn't have to.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
I tilted my head to one side, "Do you have to ask?"
"Come on."
He got up and headed for the door. It took him a moment to realize I hadn't moved.
"What?" he asked.
I sighed, "I think I need to go home."
He eyed me a moment, "Not yet."
"I can't stay here until you wrap this up. It could take a while and I… I need to go. People are going to start wondering. Mary Lou will never believe I went on vacation for this long without calling her of my own free will. She called me on her honeymoon. And Lula is probably dieing of curiosity and my mother… my mother is probably plain worried."
There I'd spoken like a rational, calm adult. I'd stated valid points and hadn't gotten hysterical; I'd even kept moderate eye contact.
"Your right."
He said the words softly and I blinked, he'd freaked last time I said I wanted to go home… hey maybe the rational, calm adult stuff actual worked – who knew?
"Oh."
"Yeah, come on."
Okay, so I was right. Somehow I'd thought that my being right would involve some type of action.
I narrowed my eyes at him, "I'm right." I said slowly.
"You're right." He confirmed.
"And that's it! I'm right and nothing more! Ranger I'm serious. I can't just pretend like I have no life. I have a job! I have rent! And a hamster to worry about! Have you thought about that? What about Rex? Huh?"
"Rex is fine. I have Dillon checking in on him and feeding him. And your rent is paid up for the next month."
My steam left me.
"Oh."
"Yeah, come on."
I stared at him, "You're avoiding the point." I said as I stood.
"I'll deal with the point later. Right now I'm hungry and you're hungry; so we should go eat."
"Fine, but I'm not going to forget." I told him as we left the room.
He smirked, "Pit-bull."
I stuck my tongue out at him.
"The bruises are fading too." He said commented.
I nodded, than stopped and stared at him deciding it wouldn't hurt to comment since he'd commented on my bruises.
"Your hair."
He stopped too.
"My mother."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
We continued on our way to the kitchen.
It was empty.
"Where is everyone?"
"Sledding." He said as he dug around the fridge.
"Oh." I think I need a new vocabulary.
I think if I counted how many times I'd said oh today, I'd make myself sick. I watched him dig around, silently promising myself I wasn't going to say oh again for a week.
He reappeared and placed wheat bread and a whole bunch of green leafy things on the counter.
I stared at it, than at him, and than back it; before moving to the cupboard and pulling out a can of Chef Boyardee Ravioli.
I placed the can on my side of the counter.
He stopped making whatever the hell it is you can make with bread and leaves.
"Babe." He said eyeing the can.
I glared at him defensively, "I'm not eating any of that. I have standards you know."
He smiled and went back to what he was doing. I sighed in relief, and proceeded to heat up my ravioli in the microwave.
I happily placed my steaming bowl of yummy ravioli on the counter, sat down and then glanced at what he'd made… then I stared…
"What is it?"
"A sandwich."
"No it's not."
"Yes it is."
"Where's the meat?"
"There is no meat."
"Where's the peanut butter or olives or the banana's or the jelly or the fluff."
He made a face, "Tell me you don't put that stuff in a sandwich."
I made a face back, "You put that stuff in a sandwich."
He laughed suddenly, "Just eat."
I sighed, theman just didn't know food.Oh well, everyone has there faults.
When we were finished I stood and picked up his plate and my plate. I rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher.
He'd stood from the counter and I saw that he'd made a mess of breadcrumbs, so I took a paper towel, moistened it in the sink, and cleaned the counter off. I noticed that the counter was now wet, so I took another paper towel and dried it off.
After I threw the paper towel away I realized he was just standing there, staring at me.
"What?"
He smiled, "Looked kinda Burg-ish there, Babe."
I glared -no words were necessary.
"So back to the point." I said.
His smiled faded, and I'm pretty sure he swallowed hard. His eyes darted around for a moment, before landing back on me.
Ranger was nervous... no not nervous... anxious.
And this was Rick.
Rick was anxious about the point...
I know I shouldn't, I know it's probably not the best thing - but suddenly I felt elated. I felt powerful... Iwas making him anxious.
The conceptbrought a giddy smile to my face. I could have fun with this...
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