A/N: This is a sequel to my first novel-length story, "Plum Sweet". This story will make a lot more sense after reading its predecessor. As always, everything familiar belongs to Janet Evanovich. I simply enjoy creating new or different situations for her characters.

I parked the Camry on the street in front of Joe's house on Slater street and killed the engine. The driveway was empty, and the house appeared quiet. I considered the possibility that Joe wasn't home, but I knew if I didn't knock, my mother would have a fit. I shoved my cell phone in my back jeans pocket, adorned my hands in worn-out oven mitts, and grabbed the lasagna.

I knocked on the door and waited.

Nothing.

I peered in the sidelight window, and saw no lights on inside. I rang the bell, then knocked again.

Still nothing.

I pulled the screen door open and tried the knob. It turned, so I cracked the door.

"Joe? You home?"

A low voice, quiet responded from the living room. "Go away."

"That's not a very warm welcome," I responded, trying to lighten the mood. "I come bearing gifts." I stepped into the house and kicked off my shoes. I shuffled into the living room to assess the situation.

Joe lived in a comfortable house on Slater Street that used to belong to his aunt Rose. As time had passed, the space had become more and more his, the feminine accents being replaced by more masculine furnishings. It was comfortable for a single man with a living room, dining room, kitchen, and half bath downstairs, and three bedrooms and a bath upstairs. I had spent a lot of time here, and it felt familiar to be back in Joe's house.

I found him lying on the couch in the dark, quiet room wearing plaid boxer shorts and a stained white t-shirt. His head bandages had been removed, exposing bald patches on his head with several enormous, pink, bulging scars. His hair was wild, his dark Italian locks having grown out where it had once been shaved and his face was unshaven.

"Can I make you a plate of lasagna?" I asked, holding the pan out to him.

"No," he said coldly.

I waited for him to say something—anything. When he didn't speak, I shuffled into the kitchen and dumped the lasagna into the refrigerator. I assessed the situation—half a stick of butter, some milk past its expiration date, some orange juice, a jar of olives, and miscellaneous condiments. I checked the freezer next—only ice cube trays and an open tub of chocolate ice cream.

"I put the lasagna in the fridge for whenever you want it. Don't worry, my mom made it," I hollered into the living room. "It won't kill you. Joe, do you need me to run to the grocery store for you?"

Dirty dishes filled the sink, and the garbage was overflowing. Medicine bottles were strewn across the countertop with miscellaneous handwritten notes in Joe's mother's handwriting. The floor was grimy. It occurred to me that Joe's mom must not have been stopping by as frequently as she had been; she would never allow his house to get like this on her watch.

I pulled the trash from the can and tied up the bag, inserting a clean liner into the can. Stephanie Plum: Domestic Goddess.

I set the bag by the front door and wandered back into the living room.

"Can I get you anything, Joe? Lunch? Something to drink? Or can I grab you some things at the grocery store?" I asked.

Joe seemed to shrink into himself, his large masculine body appearing to shrink before my eyes.

"Just g-g…. go, Stephanie."

I considered my options.

I could follow his cue and leave. That would be the easy option.

I could call Joe's mom to request a welfare check. Sounded good in theory, but then I'd actually have to talk to Joe's mom. Nope.

I could stick around and try to figure out what was going on. That seemed annoying, but reasonable enough.

"Talk to me," I said, collapsing into an arm chair. "Are you okay?"

"I'm great, Steph," he said in a sarcastic tone.

I had no idea where to go from here. I'd never seen Joe like this. It was clear he wasn't 'great.'

"I'm worried about you, Joe. Has your mom been coming by?"

"I told her to go ho… home," Joe stuttered.

I considered that piece of information. Was he safe being home alone by himself?

"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Joe lay quietly.

"Do you need me to clean up your kitchen, Joe? Or get you some groceries?"

"I said no, damn it!" Joe exploded, sitting up to face me. "I want you out."

I pulled up in front of my parents' house and turned off the car. I glanced in the rear-view mirror, examining my tear-filled eyes and red face. I blinked back the tears and fanned myself with my hand. I blasted the a/c, trying to calm and cool myself down. I was filled with a host of overwhelming emotions that I had no desire to unpack.

I ventured into the house and took my seat in the dining room. Mom and grandma were scurrying around, filling cups and setting silverware at each place.

"How was Joseph?" my mother asked, setting a tumbler of water in front of me.

"Fine," I said, fiddling with my place setting.

We ate lunch in relative silence, with grandma occasionally sharing a piece of Burg gossip. I topped off my lasagna with a piece of cherry pie, and I made a beeline for the door.

"Stephanie Michelle Plum, do not forget to bring your boyfriend for dinner tomorrow evening," my mother shouted from the kitchen as I closed the front door behind me.

I woke in my bed with a start as the pillow was lifted off my face.

"Babe."

I blinked into the late afternoon sun streaming in through my window.

"What is this? Torture Stephanie day?"

Ranger let out a small laugh. "Rough day?"

I sat up and pushed my unruly hair out of my face. "I'm just tired," I explained. "My mom invited you to dinner tomorrow night, by the way. But I didn't commit you to anything."

"Okay," Ranger said, taking a seat at the end of the bed. "Let's do it." He took one of my feet into his large, strong hands and started to rub it.

I let out a contented sigh and laid back on the bed. "I don't deserve you," I announced. "I can't believe you're going to willingly suffer through dinner with my crazy family."

The corner of Ranger's mouth tipped up ever-so-slightly. "They are part of the Stephanie Plum package. I can manage," he explained, moving to my other foot.

"Are you done with contracts for the day?"

Ranger nodded.

"Do you have plans for tonight?"

Ranger shook his head. "No. You?"

I thought about my options. I had a huge stack of files I should work on, but they would still be there tomorrow. I should clean my apartment, but I forgot to borrow my mother's vacuum at lunch time and was out of blue toilet-cleaning goop. I needed groceries, and I actually had money to buy them. That seemed like a reasonable thing to do on a Sunday evening.

"I need to get a few groceries. Other than that, no plans."

"Dinner at my place?" Ranger asked.

"Sure," I said, crawling out of bed. I tugged my hair into a scrunchie and shoved my feet into tied sneakers. "Do you want me to meet you later, or are you coming with me?"

Sunday evening was an unfortunate time to need groceries in Trenton, with the day being reserved for God, family meals, and football. Most grocery stores, including the Shop 'n Bag that I frequented, were closed, leaving few viable options. I parked the Camry in a primo parking spot at the Route 1 Wal-Mart, grabbed my messenger bag, and hauled myself out of the car.

"Let's roll, Batman," I joked, hitting the lock button on my car remote.

Ranger matched my stride, his gait uneven. We passed a woman, who gave Ranger a full body scan. I couldn't blame her; his tight black t-shirt, black cargo pants, and boots made him look like a hotter, less crazy Latino version of Rambo. I doubted Wal-Mart had many shoppers that looked like Ranger.

I grabbed a cart and headed straight for the grocery section.

"So, how is Morelli?" Ranger asked quietly as I placed a box of cereal in the cart.

My face must have registered surprise, because Ranger smirked at me. His annoying yet sometimes convenient habit of tracking my car strikes again.

"You can go over there, Steph," Ranger said. "I imagine he could use a friend now that he is off the force."

I swallowed hard.

"He's officially done?" I asked.

"Rumor has it they offered him a desk job when he's ready, but he turned them down."

"I can't see him doing that," I said, studying the endless shelf of cereal. "He always hated pushing paper." I grabbed a box of frosted shredded wheat and added it to my cart.

"He'd be a liability to the department on the street unless he manages a miraculously recovery. Since when do you eat that stuff?" Ranger asked, gesturing toward the cereal. "I thought you were more of a Lucky Charms girl."

"It's not for me," I said, pushing the cart in the direction of the cleaning aisle. "It's for Joe."

I told Ranger about my stop at Joe's house earlier that day as I filled the cart with toilet cleaner, toilet paper, paper towels, milk, beer, hot dogs, buns, bread, peanut butter, chips, coffee, and other miscellaneous items either Joe or I needed. "I'm not sure how to help him at this point. I'm not even sure if I want to help him," I grumbled.

Ranger gave me a long stare. "Babe, you're buying him groceries. You WANT to help him."

I scowled, causing Ranger to break into a huge smile.

"You're a good person, Babe. It's one of the many things I love about you."

At the drop of the "L" word, I felt my heart flutter around in my chest. I shot Ranger a smile, then dropped two bags of chocolate-covered gem donuts into the cart.

I knocked on Joe's door and let myself in without waiting for a response. Ranger followed me inside, each of us carrying a bag of groceries. I had Bob's leash around my wrist. I'd already dropped off my groceries at the apartment, and I'd brought Bob along, assuming we'd be staying with Ranger for the evening.

"Hey! Incoming!" I shouted, letting Bob off the leash and heading for the kitchen. Bob bolted for the living room, doing his happy-dog dance. "I got you groceries. I didn't want you to starve," I said playfully, but really only half joking.

Ranger deposited the bag of groceries onto the counter, taking in the mess in the kitchen. I thought I saw his brow furrow, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared, his blank, emotionless face plastered in place.

Without saying a word, Ranger began unloading the clean dishes from the dishwasher into cabinets and drawers.

"You don't have to do that," I said quietly.

Ranger shrugged, indifferent, and continued.

I began the task of unloading groceries. I dumped the spoiled milk down the drain and pitched the carton. I replaced it with the new milk and added hot dogs, cheese slices, shaved ham, a tub of potato salad, a tub of macaroni salad, and a six pack of beer to the refrigerator. I put some items in the pantry and placed bread items in the bread box, tossing out the moldy loaf.

"I thought I tol…. Told you to leave," I heard from behind me.

"You did," I said, turning to face Joe. He was still in his dirty white shirt and boxer shorts, leaning against the wall for stability. His face was angry. "But I came back."

"I noticed."

Having emptied the dishwasher, Ranger began loading the dirty dishes, quietly listening to the conversation.

"Felt the n…. n…. need to show off your new boyfriend?" Morelli asked, his tone dark.

My gut reaction was to deny the charge, but luckily my brain shut down the urge to get defensive. After all, he WAS my… boyfriend? I decided the best plan was to ignore the comment and change the subject.

"Bob was missing you. I hope it was okay I brought him over for a while," I said, busying myself with wiping down the countertops with a paper towel and cleaning spray.

"He can stay," Morelli growled.

I stopped dead in my tracks. I hadn't considered this. I'd enjoyed having Bob around lately.

Morelli gestured at Ranger. "He took my girl. He can't have m…. my dog," he stuttered. "Now get the fuck out." He turned and began walking toward the living room.

"I need to talk to you, Morelli."

Joe stopped and whipped around to face Ranger.

"The hell you d…. d…. do."

Ranger, having loaded the last dish in the dishwasher, loaded a dishwashing pod into the compartment, shut the door, and pushed the "go" button.

"This conversation is not optional," Ranger said, crossing the kitchen to stand at my side. "Would you please excuse us, Stephanie?"

Joe began speaking. "What kind of bull….?"

Before he could finish the statement, Ranger had shoved Morelli against the wall, his forearm at his neck.

"Ranger, wait…." I began.

"I don't care if all of Trenton thinks you're a brain-damaged, washed-up cripple," Ranger said, toe-to-toe with Joe. "I'm going to treat you, and talk to you, like a man. Miss Plum, please wait in the car. I'll be out shortly."

I nodded, my voice caught in my throat. I exited with a quiet, "Bye, Joe," crossing to the front door and out to the Camry.

I waited for more than twenty minutes before Ranger walked out of the house, his uneven gait striding down the sidewalk. He opened the door and slid into the seat next to me.

I stared at him, waiting for him to explain what the hell was going on.

"Babe."

My eyes rolled back so far in my head I saw my hair follicles.

"What the hell was that?" I exclaimed, my voice an octave too high.

"Tough love."

I opened my door and began climbing out of the car.

"Where are you going?"

"Back inside," I said, bending down to glance in the car. "You coming?"

"No need," Ranger said, buckling his belt. "He's fine."

I scowled. "I need to clean up a bit," I explained. "And I want Bob."

"Let's drive."

I pulled into the underground garage at Rangeman, and Ranger pointed me into a reserved parking spot next to his four designated spots. I noticed an additional reserved space had been added next to the one we were parked in. I raised my eyebrows, glancing at Ranger.

"You need parking when you're here," he explained. "And occasionally, all my spots are full."

"Two spots?"

"Personal vehicle and company car."

I swallowed hard.

"I haven't signed an offer letter or contract yet."

"Babe."

The lights were dim and the air was cool in Ranger's penthouse apartment. The place was immaculately decorated and extremely clean thanks to Ranger's housekeeper, Ella. The table was set with a salad, a bread basket, and two covered dishes. Ranger removed the lids to reveal seared tuna steaks, rice, and roasted vegetables. A small bowl of fruit and a piece of carrot cake were sitting nearby on the bar, which I assumed had to be dessert.

"Wow, this looks incredible," I said, salivating as I took a seat at the table. "Ella outdid herself."

"As usual," Ranger responded, taking a seat.

We tore into our dinner without much small-talk, an air of awkwardness sitting between us after the encounter with Joe. When my plate was clean, Ranger cleared the table, placing the dishes in the dishwasher. He returned, setting the bowl of fruit at his place and the cake in front of me.

"Thank you," I said, giving him a smile.

"Ella never misses an opportunity to bake for you," Ranger said. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"I'm not really sure," I admitted. "I have a bunch of open files for Vinnie. Do I have time to work to clear them before I start for you? Do I have a start date with Rangeman yet?"

"I can be flexible," Ranger said, stabbing a piece of pineapple with his fork. "Would you like more time to work for Vinnie? Do you want to implement a phased work arrangement?"

I considered my options. I didn't love working for Vinnie. As a boss, he was borderline abusive. He didn't support me as an employee, but he relied on me to keep his business running and to keep his hind-end out of hot water with his father-in-law. On the flip side, working as a bounty hunter was one of the few things I was good at. It made my heart race, and in some strange way, it filled my cup.

"What kind of phased arrangement did you have in mind? I feel kind of bad leaving Vinnie in a lurch."

Ranger looked thoughtful as he stabbed another piece of fruit. "If I could find a way to make you a full time Rangeman employee tomorrow while still allowing you to clear your pile of skips, would you?"

"Of course!" I blurted out.

Ranger smirked. "Okay. I'll have your paperwork ready tomorrow."