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Chapter 2

She paws awkwardly through her bag, looking for her keys. I could have had the door unlocked and open in half the time it took her to find her keys, but that feels like showing off. And I didn't think it would be appreciated.

Finally, the door is open and I walk in ahead of Steph. By now, it's habit to give her place a cursory once over before she enters. There have been too many stalkers, killers, and crazies to take anything for granted when it comes to her safety. We move to the kitchen and she pulls the first aid kit out from under the sink.

"Let's start with the scrapes on your hands," I say, gesturing to the sink. As gently as I can, I use the anti-bacterial soap and warm tap water to clean the grit out of the abrasions. I see her grimace, but she doesn't complain.

Once I've gotten as much dirt out as I can, I pat them dry and have her hold her hands over the sink so I can pour peroxide across her palms. This gets a sharp hiss from her as we watch the white foamy bubbles work out the rest of the dirt. I don't see any deep cuts and bandaging her entire hands seems excessive, so I use a couple of Band-Aids with antibiotic cream to cover the worst of the scrapes and call it good.

"How do you want to do your knee?" I ask.

She glances down to the bloody rip in her jeans and sighs. "I haven't even paid the Macy's bill off from when I bought these jeans," she says. "Maybe I should be buying my clothes at a thrift store."

"You'll need to take your pants off so I can play doctor," I say, and she rewards me with an eye roll.

She reaches for the button but winces and grabs her wrist. "I guess I'm going to need some help with undoing my pants," she says with exasperation.

I feel the smile tugging at my mouth as I move towards her. I don't break eye contact as I reach for the button on her jeans. The button pops open and she lets out a small gasp. My eyes shift to her perfect mouth. Slowly, I draw down the zipper on her jeans and her tongue darts out to nervously lick her lips. I hook my thumbs into the waistband of her jeans and carefully begin pushing them down her mile long legs, lowering myself along with the garment. I put my hand on the inside of the pant leg to keep it from rubbing against the wound. Steph lifts one leg and then the other, allowing me to remove the jeans completely. Good thing, too. Knowing Steph, she'd probably trip on them if I left them pooled around her ankles.

A quick glance at her knee assures me it isn't deep and she doesn't need stitches, so I continue my game. Running my hands up the outside of her now naked legs, I slowly reverse my course until I am once again standing before her. The pulse on her neck is fluttering wildly, but she remains silent, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

I rest my hands on her bikini brief clad hips. The urge to rip the scrap of red satin off and lose myself in the bit of heaven I know lays beneath is almost irresistible. Focus, Manoso. She gives a startled squeal of surprise as I hoist her up onto the counter.

"Your bedside manner could use a little work, Dr. Batman," she says, scooting herself back on the counter with her legs.

"You've never had any complaints about my bed manners before, Babe," I remind her.

"Maybe I'm just too polite to say anything," she responds with a grin. We both know she's lying.

I move between her legs, grab her satin covered cheeks and slide her forward until her core is pressed against me. "Feel free to offer any suggestions for improvement you may have."

I can smell her arousal and am once again fighting the urge to bury myself inside her. Instead, I give her a soft kiss then step back to inspect the damage to her knee. We get her leg over the sink and I wash the wound with soap and douse it with peroxide. I add antibiotic ointment and use an extra large bandage over the entire area.

Next, the wrist. "We probably should have iced your wrist as soon as we got here," I say, noting the slight swelling. I take the cold pack from the first aid kit, activate it and place it on her wrist. She's still sitting on the counter in her bikini briefs and t-shirt, and I'm surprised to note she doesn't have the usual look of panic on her face. Instead, she's looking at me like I'm lunch. Interesting.

"Can I ask you something?"

I nod. She knows she can ask me anything. Whether or not I can answer is a different story.

"Do you think I'm a problem?"

"Babe." Where the hell did that come from? Then I remember what she said to Morelli.

"It's a yes or no question, Ranger. 'Babe' is not an answer."

"No," I say, sensing there is a lot more to her question.

She breaks eye contact and is staring somewhere in the vicinity of my shoes. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. Joe asked me to marry him."

Talk about a dick punch. Hadn't she said earlier they split up?

Eyes still on my shoes, she continues, "Actually, he didn't exactly ask me. He said that since I was always going to be his problem, he might just as well marry me and make it official." She snorts. "Really hard to resist something so romantic, huh?"

"Joe and I have a lot of history, some good, some not so good. He's Burg. He's got a good job, a house, and a dog. He's perfect for a Burg girl like me," she continues.

I swallow hard to clear the bile that is rising in my throat as she speaks. "As long as you're happy, that's all that matters," I say, not even trying to sound sincere.

She glances back to my face. "But I wouldn't be," she says. "I realized that, if I accepted his proposal, I'd be settling. I don't want to settle. I'd rather be alone than settle just to be with someone. I turned him down, told him I was no longer his problem, and left."

"Why are you telling me this, Babe?" I've stared death in the face with no fear, but my heart is hammering and my mouth is dry with dread at what I know is coming.

Her eyes remain on my face. I can see her steeling herself, facing her fear head on. Just more proof of what a phenomenal woman she is.

"I'm telling you this, because I want you to understand why I have to ask you my next question. I'm done settling. Are you? Are you willing to take a chance on us? To see if we can have something beyond our weird, friends with occasional benefits relationship?"

It's my turn to drop my eyes. Even I'm not heartless enough to watch as I break the heart of the only woman I've ever loved. "I've told you my life doesn't lend itself to relationships. It wouldn't be safe for you to be connected to me." I've always tried to be honest about this with her.

"We already have a relationship, Ranger. You've shown everyone many times that you care about me. You held a woman at gunpoint to get the property records for Spiro, you jumped off a bridge to save me, you've given me more cars than I can count, and you've bled money to keep me safe. You've made it known on Stark Street that I'm your woman. Sure, I've had some scrapes because I was tied to you, but how many more have I found on my own? Why can't we try something more?" she asks.

My phone buzzes with an incoming alert, and I use the distraction to take a few steps back and out of the emotionally overcharged moment. Unless it is something urgent, the control room at Rangeman takes care of the day to day issues that arise in the security business. I look at the notification and realize I'm almost relieved to see one of my men is being transported to the hospital. How fucked up is that?

"I've got to go. One of my men was hurt and is being taken to the hospital." I move back to where she is still sitting on the counter. "I heard what you said." I kiss her mouth softly and move away.

She nods. "It's okay, Ranger. I get it. You shouldn't settle either."