All recognizable characters belong to Janet Evanovich, I'm just playing.

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The Gift of Time

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SPOV

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Ghostbusters plays on the tv, but I'm not even seeing it, or anything, really. I can hear Ranger puttering around in my kitchen, although I can't figure out what he's doing in there. There's no food to dig out of the refrigerator, no Rex to converse with, no alcohol to drown the sorrows. It's been another lean month for bounty hunting, and if I'm honest, they've all been lean months lately. I've been eating a few more meals at my parent's house, doing the acceptable man set-up tap dance to fill my belly.

Rex and Joe both left my life in a one-two punch that upended my world and I've been waiting for the third thing to happen. Everyone knows it always comes in threes and waiting for the other shoe to drop has been exhausting. If things one and two involved two of the three men in my life, then the third will have to include Ranger, not?

A couple months ago I came home from a shit show of a day chasing skips and Rex didn't come out of his soup can to greet me. With trembling hands, I wiggled him out of his home, unsurprised and yet still devastated to confirm what I already suspected. Rex was running on the big hamster wheel in the sky, leaving me without a confidant. After lovingly packing him into an Animal Crackers box, I buried him in my mother's flower bed, under the corner of the house with Grandma Mazur as a fellow mourner. Afterwards, she placed a plate of cookies in front of me and patted my hand as we nibbled in silence.

A day later, Joe and I got into it, not only over my job and lack of domestic ambitions, but also my mourning the pet that lasted longer than my flash in the pan marriage and predated our years of back and forth. "Jesus, Steph, he was just a hamster!" was his undoing, and we were once again in an off phase. So far, neither of us has been willing to break the ice and reach out. Last I heard, he was dating a librarian who may or may not moonlight as a stripper. No one's been able to confirm that rumor.

On the flip side, Ranger gave me a long hug when I brokenly told him about Rex. Once I got the sniffles under control he asked for help with a skip. I know he didn't really need it, but my participation meant two days of distraction, and a Rangeman paycheck, ensuring that I could pay my rent. I tried to ignore the pity aspect of it, but it was hard when it was so obvious.

It's been a couple weeks of grimaces and glares from Joe when we crossed paths, not so subtle references to my age and single status from my mother, a parade of potential husbands at the family table, hook-up offers from Lula, and an assortment of low-bond skips making me chase my tail. Ranger has been strangely attentive and available, adding another layer of confusion. Rex was fine, and then he died. Joe and I were doing fine, and then we weren't. I was afraid to look too closely at anything involving Ranger right now.

Somewhere in all this mess, I picked up a stalker. At first it was simple things like flowers left on my doorstep. Then it was a photo of me slipped under my door. A little worrying that someone knew my address, but nothing threatening, so I ignored it. Even a slightly too personal love letter under my windshield wiper when I came out of the Tasty Pastry failed to get me act. I've had so many stalkers, that it's become routine. That alone should terrify me, but it's simply another sad fact of my sad life.

After weeks of minor things like calls from blocked numbers and a feeling of being watched, things came to a head today. Turns out, it was one of my mother's favorite potential suitors that had turned stalker. I barely remembered meeting Henry DeLongo, but he felt we made a deep love connection over Beef Stroganoff and set about "wooing" me. He cornered me on a stakeout this evening, zapping me with a stun gun before I could even react. When I was able to start moving again, he tsked, stating, "That won't do," before holding a chloroform-covered cloth over my mouth and nose.

I woke up in a basement, on a bed covered in pink satin sheets and wearing a giant cream puff of a wedding dress with a too-tight ankle chain for my something new. The chain gave me eight feet of freedom, just enough to use the en suite bathroom, but not long enough to make it to the door. It was a set-up out of the ordinary for my stalker routine, and I have to admit that it scared the shit out of me. I was dressed for a Burg wedding, and it was even more terrifying the second time around. My limited explorations didn't yield anything useful, but there was no way in hell I was just going to lay down on pink satin sheets and wait to die.

Henry came back while I was in the middle of trying to break the bed frame, fired up to get to the wedding night. Pointing out that I didn't remember saying any vows earned me a backhand to the face and some bruises to my left arm as he drug me back toward the pillows. If nothing else, it served to incite Rhino mode and the bitch slapping tussle we engaged in while he tried to pull me closer would have been embarrassing in any other situation. I tried for the trusty knee to the balls, but the wedding dress from hell cushioned the blow. I swore to God that if I ever did get married again, it was going to be in a loose knee-length dress, not some satin and lace version that was best paired with 80s teased hair.

In the end, I hooked my leg around his and gave him a hard shove, one of the few moves I remembered from Ranger's attempt to teach me self-defense. He went down, twisting to try to break his fall, only succeeding in hitting his forehead on the bed frame instead of the back of it. Blood running down his face was immediate, and like a creepy Jack in the Box, he popped back up at me with a lunge. His tackle took us both down and I was done. Once I was able to get a handhold on his hair and my other hand under his chin for leverage, the side of his head connected with the bed. Two more whacks and he was out cold, and I could scoot out from underneath him.

I crab walked as best as I could away from him before trying to stand. In the middle of checking out the impressive amount of blood that coated my hands and the bodice of the now ruined wedding dress (not to mention what had landed on my neck, face and hair during the struggle), the door to the basement burst open and Ranger stepped through, gun drawn. He paled at the sight of me, covered in blood and standing near a body. Tank and Hal followed him through the door, stopping short. The normally stoic Tank took in my prom night Carrie get up and muttered out, "Holy fuck!"

Ranger holstered his gun, taking cautious steps toward me while Hal cuffed Henry. I was still staring at my hands when Ranger reached me and gently cupped a hand under my chin and angled my eyes up to his. "Babe, talk to me!"

I didn't miss the urgency in his voice. My breathing was erratic, and my thoughts jumbled. "I need to check his pockets for a key."

My voice sounded strange to even me, and the confusion on both Ranger and Tank's face would have been comical under other circumstances. That one damn eyebrow goes up. "Key?"

"My leg. I'm stuck."

With that, Ranger gave me one last thumb rub on the cheek before dropping to his knee and trying to fight his way through the tulle and lace to find my legs. Tank's intake of breath told me they finally saw the chain and the cuff that locked me to it. We were interrupted by Lester and Bobby shoving their way into the room, taking in the scene before them; me, the blood covered bride, Ranger looking like he was on a garter hunt with Tank standing next to him in support.

Lester blinked, and said, "Well, damn. This is totally not how I expected your wedding to go. I was thinking more sneak off to Vegas than the big church thing. And damn that was an ugly dress even before the blood. I imagine this is what it would look like if you and the cop tried to get married and—"

A smack to the back of his head from Tank stopped Lester's word vomit. I couldn't help myself and started laughing, but the laughter almost instantly turned to sobs. It was an ugly dress, I was covered in blood, and adrenaline was leaving me. But most of all, Ranger would never rescue me from the church because that would mean he intended to offer me more than a condom and friendship and that knowledge was just too overwhelming on top of everything else going on.

Ranger had me free from the restraint in under a minute, not hesitating to pick me up and carry me out of my prison, bridal style, leading to more tears. The ridiculousness of the situation was compounded when he placed me in the Turbo and took on the Herculean task of trying to shove the dress in enough to shut the door. In an un-Ranger like fit of pique, he pulled out his knife and whittled away enough of the underskirt, muttering fucking dress under his breath, until I fit in the passenger seat.

I was thankful for the tinted windows as we peeled away from yet another Burg shit show. I'm sure somebody saw Ranger carrying me from the house in all my wedding finery, and rumors and stories will be flying. There's no way there won't be a phone call from my mother waiting for me whenever I get my phone back.

A plate with a healthy portion of birthday cake appears under my nose, startling me out of my musing. Blinking to clear my head, I look up, surprised that it really is Ranger offering the sweet to me. Surprise is quickly followed by confusion as I take the plate. "I have cake?"

"Tank just dropped it off."

My eyes stray to the door. Lost in my own head, I never heard him. Honestly, arriving home, getting pealed out of the dress, and getting cleaned up by Ranger is all a bit hazy. Grabbing the fork, I half-heartedly poke at the icing roses. It's too much like wedding cake, and that's just a shitting cherry on top of this bizarre day. I can feel Ranger's gaze on me, and I finally force myself to take a bite, hoping he'll lose the concerned look he's shooting me. "How'd you know where I was?"

"The pen tracker in your purse was in an unusual location and hadn't moved for a while. Thought I should check it out."

I long ago stopped complaining about the trackers, but a thought pops into my head. "What if I was on a date?"

His blank face slams into place. "Were you?"

"Not willingly. Hadn't even given him a second thought after I snuck out after dinner."

Ranger adjusts the blanket covering my legs before sitting down next to me. "Babe, why didn't you tell me someone was bothering you?"

I'm not even going to ask how he knew that part of the story. I poke at the cake again, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Because I knew you'd want to help. I feel like I'm always taking more than I'm giving. You said it yourself, you bleed money for me."

He runs his hand down his face. "That was never meant to be something you took to heart, and I'd rather be able to help you than rescue you."

We sit in silence for a few minutes, me poking at the cake I'd have normally devoured and him watching me. He finally reaches forward and takes the plate from me and sets it on the coffee table before turning back to me.

"You give me your time, and that's worth far more than money to me."

I know the look I'm giving him must be of the dubious variety, because he sighs, knowing he's going to have to use more words than he's comfortable with. "When you freely give someone your time, you're giving them a gift. People can make more money, but time is something you'll never get back. Think about it, Steph. How many times have you dropped everything to help someone out and never expected anything in return? It's your heart that draws people in, and that willingness to spend time with someone is infinitely more valuable than money. Last week you skipped out on dinner with your family to help with a distraction, knowing you'd have to listen to your mother bitch about it."

"I think that one actually worked out in my favor; Val and Albert were there with the kids running loose and Grandma had her new honey over. Apparently, there was inappropriate touching, too much detail about a proctology exam and somehow the broccoli caught on fire."

He manages to keep a straight face as he asks, "So, a normal dinner at the Plum house?"

I shrug. "Nobody shot the chicken, so it was probably a pretty tame one."

His lips twitch like he wants to smile. "Fine. You never complain when I pull you in for work—"

"Because you pay me."

He dips his head like he concedes but holds my gaze while he continues. "Would you not help me if I wasn't giving you a paycheck?"

I shoot him a dirty look and he knows he has me there. No price for what we give each other. I didn't really understand what it meant when he threw it out after our night together, but in the years that have followed, I've had many opportunities to learn. I ask, he comes to help. He asks, I don't think twice about dropping everything to give him what he needs. His next words hammer that home.

"You ditched dinner with Joe to come sit at the hospital with me after Zip and Ram got ambushed at the Elgato Imports site. That helped more than you'll ever know."

Cripes, that was a bad night. The guys had gone to secure a warehouse after a window alarm went off. A couple of gang members on lookout opened fire on Zip and Ram as soon as they exited their patrol vehicle; Zip had just enough time to hit a panic button before he passed out. By the grace of God, the bullets mostly hit vest. They were ignored in favor of the goods, allowing back-up and emergency services to arrive in time to help them. Ram lost a lot of blood from a nicked artery in his thigh, and Zip had a pretty good concussion from smacking his head on the SUV on his way down, but both made full recoveries. I slipped them some get well cookies when Ranger wasn't looking and hung out with them while they were sidelined on sick leave.

"Don't discount what you can offer someone just because it's not measured in dollars and cents." He reaches up to sweep a curl behind my ear. "Maybe in our next life you'll have the money, and you'll see what a gift time can be when that's all I have to offer."

"You think we're going to know each other in the next life?"

His blank face falls into place as he assesses me, and I wonder if I said the wrong thing. "You don't think we're connected, destined to be intertwined in some way?"

A sigh escapes me as my shoulders come up in a shrug. "We probably are." A bit of bitterness creeps in as I think, your life probably won't lend itself to a relationship in that lifetime, either.

Based on the look on his face, my mental muttering wasn't as quiet as I thought. Dipping my head, I wonder if this day can get any shittier. I pinch my nose and plead, "Ignore me, it's been a long day."

His frustration is easy to read, but the vehemence of his reply takes me by surprise. "I screwed up, alright? But I never once lied to you. I've done a lot of shit in my life but loving you is different.Things I said a couple years ago aren't necessarily true anymore. I'm in a different place, willing to offer something more. You're the one that's been standing still."

I want to be angry, but he's right. He's moved from the street thug with chains and attitude that met me at the café to the CEO of a successful security company. In that same time, I've done…nothing. I'm still the same frightfully inept bounty hunter that got him shot with the gun he helped me buy and I'm still doing the on/off dating thing with the guy that thinks "my boys miss you" and pizza on the couch is the height of romance. My shoulders slump even further. "You're right. I've done nothing with my life."

"Babe, that's not what I meant."

"That doesn't mean it's not true, though." Because it is true. Depressingly, accurately, true.

My eyes are closed, and my nerves are still shot, so it startles me some when he takes my hand. "What I meant is that you're letting fear of change hold you in place instead of making a decision. You stay at Vinnie's and barely scrape by when you could have had a job with me this entire time. You accept your mom's 'advice' instead of telling her to back off, so you won't alienate her. You go back to Morelli because he's comfortable."

"I don't want a pity job!"

"Stephanie."

Oh, shit. Full name.

"I've felt many things for you over the years, but pity has never been one of them. Exasperation, frustration, respect, amusement, surprise, love, and even anger. But not once have I ever pitied you or offered you anything out of pity."

Exasperation is definitely showing on his face, but I can tell his words are sincere. "Working for you would be a mess. I'm not that great at following orders."

He honest to goodness snorts at that. "Tank and Les would be your supervisors, and you'd come aboard as a contractor for office work and sales. There are fitness benchmarks to meet for BEA work, bodyguarding, security, and patrols, but not for the rest. You already get health insurance, and the rest we can negotiate. Think about it, searching and untangling mysteries, turning on the charm for clients. A steady paycheck and no chasing cranky octogenarians for pennies, getting covered in food or getting tossed in dumpsters."

Right now, that sounds pretty good, and I run it through in my head. The only downside I can see would be Ranger likely deciding on a no-fraternization policy. The thought of being around him and not getting to touch him would suck. The idea of it makes me frown.

"Where'd you go just now?"

I can feel the blush on my cheeks and search for a way to explain it without having to actually explain it. While I'm deliberately ignoring the man next to me, my brain circles around to something he said. "What things did you say that aren't necessarily true anymore?"

"I wondered when you were going to catch on to that." His lips uptick into a smile, and my narrowed eyes have no effect on him. He reaches out to hold my hand; he looks at them, seeming almost hesitant. "The work I find myself doing is less dangerous, less demanding. I'm at a point where my life could lend itself to a relationship, but the woman I want to have a relationship with has this on/off things with another guy. And while I'm ok poaching, I'm not ok committing to someone who's not ready."

My heart is hammering in my chest. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

He still hasn't raised his head, choosing to continue to focus on our entwined hands. "It has to be your choice. I was honest when I said I might have all the muscle, but you have all the power. You have the ability to break me, and you don't even know it." The last part is said barely above a whisper, and I know I'm seeing a side of Ranger that very few people get to see.

"I stayed with Morelli because I never thought you would allow yourself to be an option."

My confession hangs heavy in the air between us. His eyes finally meet mine and the unguarded openness stuns me. He brings our still clasped hands up and kisses mine. "Are you done going back to the cop?"

"Are you done telling me I can't have you?"

Our smiles mirror each other before I start kicking the blanket off and twist around to throw a leg over his lap, straddling him. My hands come up around his neck. "You better not be freaking toying with me right now!"

"Never, Babe. We'll probably fight and bump heads over security and staying safe, but we'll work it out. It's just you and me. That's a firm boundary for me moving forward."

"Good, because I'd hate to have to kick some girl's ass if you flirt with her."

"Babe." He shakes his head for a moment before becoming serious again. "I'd hate to have to kill the cop."

"Eh, the stripper can have him."

I meet his eyebrow raise with a shrug. With a kiss to my forehead, his hands settle under my butt and pulls me closer. "Are we staying here or at my place tonight?"

"You have a better shower and a shorter commute to the office. I'd hate to be late and disappoint my new bosses."

That gets me a 200-watt smile. I guess my third is the end of our friendship, but luckily, it's been replaced with something more.