Earlier this year I read an interview with JE, where she seemed pretty happy to get rid of the number centered book naming thing. It made me wonder about coming up with 27 number themed titles, and then pairing up story ideas with them. In the end, I came up with 31 story ideas (more, if you count the multiple ideas for several of the numbers), and The Number Series was born. Some stories are longer one-shots, some are short, and some developed into multi-chapter offerings. All have the title somewhere in the story. I have no set posting schedule for them.

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

A/N: Spoilers for Twisted Twenty-Six and Fortune and Glory/Tantalizing Twenty-Seven.

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Putting Two and Two Together

Joe POV

Knocking on Steph's door, I know the box of cupcakes are my way in. We've been "off" since she went on this crazy search for the keys that would lead her to some "treasure". Of course, there was no treasure, just a lot of crazy old guys trying to kill her. That's over, thank God, and now we need to get our lives back on track. It's time to put the Lazy-boys, and all the mess and bullshit that came with them, behind us.

Gripping the bottle of wine tighter, I hear Steph moving around before she opens the door. Her smile is bright when she sees me. I'm a bit confused when she sticks her head out and looks around the hallway before turning her attention back to me. Her eyes light up when she spies the cupcakes, and she asks if we're celebrating. I'm hoping we are.

Following her into the living room with the opened bottle of wine and some mismatched glasses, I let my gaze linger on the sway of her ass as she moves over to the couch to get comfortable. Joining her, I soak up the quiet while we sip our wine. It's been a hell of a couple weeks and I've missed her.

Because it won't stay quiet in the Burg, I tell her all the details from Shine's confession. I can't help but grin at the knowledge that it all came apart because Jimmy Rissoli tried to sell a marked diamond in order to have cash for his honeymoon with Edna Mazur. As I top off her glass, I admit that I'm impressed with how well she's handling there being no treasure in the safe.

Her statement that it was more about the journey than the treasure is surprising, and the admission that she's more upset that I didn't tell her about Gabriela hangs in the air between us. Not just that I knew the real reason that Gabriela was in town, but that I spent time with her the same way Steph spends time with Ranger. This don't ask, don't tell policy we have going between us is a delicate dance of omission, jealousy, suspicion, and begrudging acceptance. I knew by the way she questioned me at the viewing that she was jealous, even though I'm ninety-nine percent sure she spent the night before in his bed. Probably that night, too.

The fact that confidentiality and working active cases means that I can't tell her everything is just one of the issues that always simmers between us; often our jobs put us at cross purposes. Sometimes, like when family is involved, I have to pick the lesser of two evils and protect my family the same way she'd protect hers. I know she still harbors a slight grudge from when I had to leave her out of the loop on having her ex under house arrest and we ended up at my place. She'd have never known, save for the safe house having a busted pipe.

Setting the Gabriela issue aside, we start to jokingly negotiate cupcakes and the flirty banter when I offer something better than chocolate pays off. The cupcakes are moved to the table, and I have her under me on the couch, my hand sliding up under her shirt. I've missed this.

There's a beeping sound coming from the behind the couch and Steph turns her head in that direction.

"Ignore it." I continue kissing down her neck, moving to lift her shirt off. When I notice she's distracted, I give up and lean back.

She sits up. "Sorry! It might be grandma. I just want to make sure she's alright."

While she scampers around the end of the couch and starts digging through her purse, I reach for a cupcake to tide me over. I steal the one she wanted, just because it will make her fuss and I love riling her up. Just as I'm peeling off the paper, her part of the conversation wafts in from the kitchen.

"Yo...When?... I think I can make that work...No, I probably I owe you for all the help you gave me this week… Where?... I'm not even sure what to wear for a place like that...At my place...Probably not...ok, see you at 10:30. I'll wait downstairs."

It doesn't take much to figure out who she's talking to. Fucking Manoso.

My appetite is gone. Why am I not surprised that we're being interrupted so she can run off to do his bidding? And while the desire to fuck her and then send her to the bastard while he can still smell me on her is strong, I realize it's putting a band-aid on a hemorrhaging gut-shot. I know he's been helping her all week and has probably talked his way into her bed. There's nothing I can say about it; Gabriela Rose was an interesting diversion for me, something different. But someone like her isn't my endgame; hell, maybe it's time to admit that Steph might be who I want, but she's not who I'm going to end up with, either. I'm not sure I want a houseful of kids anymore, but I do want a wife that actually wants to commit to us. Not having to save her from a new stalker, killer, or random nutjob every week would be nice, too.

The thing about Steph is, she's fun. She's gorgeous and responsive. We have a good give and take, even if our tempers get the best of us, and she's easy to be with when we're getting along. She'd be a great mom if she ever let herself go there. Her family is crazy, but so is mine. We have a history together. When things are calm, I can forget about the shit that finds its way to her.

Things are rarely calm, though, and loving her is a full-time job that requires hazard pay. I've gotten hurt more times helping her than I have at my actual job. I could deal with that, but it's starting to feel like to be with her, I have to give up on the wife and kids idea until it will be too late to enjoy them. I've been punting that dream down the road while waiting for her, being careful not to push it too hard. I've been slowly conceding that's it's just not going to happen. It's always one crazy situation after another. It might not always be her fault, but she doesn't seem to mind finding herself in the middle of the action, and never learns or changes anything after the mess is mopped up. I think I conceded defeat when she opened the door in Hawaii and just don't want to admit it.

Hawaii. Jesus, that clusterfuck. I showed up to surprise her and instead I'm the one that ended up surprised. I couldn't just take off on a whim, but I worked to clear my caseload and secure the vacation time. It was too little, too late. I probably shouldn't have been shocked she already found a fill-in with Manoso. He's always there in the background, hovering. She stunned us both and did a runner, and I came home with a broken nose as a souvenir. Since then, we've drifted in and out of our relationship, and I've never quite been able to convince myself that I was her first choice. She had to know I couldn't just jump on a plane with her; but Manoso could.

When the stomach pains and reflux got to be too much to ignore, I broke things off to see if being with her was the cause. Even though I knew it was pointless, I told her to go ahead and date other people…as long as it wasn't him. She probably ran to him straight away. We got back together, but the desire to put a ring on her finger wasn't as strong. I can't explain it, but something was different. So, I bought a pool table and waited for her to call me on it. She never did. Instead, we soldiered on, just like we always do.

But the real kicker in all this? She's in love with Manoso. I've ignored that fact for a while, thinking she'd get it out of her system, especially when she figured out that he just wanted to fuck her until he got tired of her. Guys like him don't settle down, and they certainly don't go for the nice, girl next door type. I thought I had it all figured out. Let her sow some oats when we're broken up but be the guy that offers her a future, be the one she ends up with at the end of the day. If I had some fun along the way in our off periods, so what? It was the perfect plan, in theory. I thought I could have my cupcake and eat it, too, but I was a fool. I was so confident that we'd end up together that I didn't take the threat seriously.

Fucking Manoso.

From the beginning he's been a thorn in my side. I see the way he looks at her. The opportunistic bastard has her wrapped around his finger, putting her more and more in his debt every time he helps her. The crazy asshole even jumped off a fucking bridge to save her. How do you compete with that? You don't. Let him be the big damn hero, because in the end, she comes home to me.

What really sucks though, is putting two and two together and coming up with one.

Babe. He calls my girl Babe.

How did I not know this? How had I not caught on that he was in love with her, too? I saw the look on his face when we found Salgusta's torture tools laid out where we figured they had Steph and Edna. The man went pale, not an easy feat for a Cuban. I heard all about the patrol car clocking him doing 110mph in a Rangeman SUV to get to her, heard how he pulled her out of the cab of the cement truck and held her close. That's not how a guy after an easy piece of ass reacts. Hell, that's not even how just a friend reacts.

When I told her about his reactions…she didn't have one of her own. His actions didn't surprise her. She knows he's in love with her. He probably knows she's in love with him. It's becoming clearer that I'm the short side of this triangle that we fell into. When it comes down to it, if I asked her to walk away from him, to give us a real shot, she'd pick a fight, we'd break up for a month or two, and then we'd drift back together, just like we always do. And she'd still be in love with him.

She comes back in the room, smiling. "Where were we?"

I see her in a new light. Can she really turn it off and on that easily? Walk back and forth between us like she's standing at the pantry trying to decide what she wants for dinner that night? Hmm…do I want Italian or Cuban today? Maybe one today and one tomorrow. Wait, what's on my agenda today and which one will be the most helpful? My skip is dangerous, so probably Ranger. No, wait. I'm going to break at least a dozen laws today, so maybe Joe so he can help mop up the mess? Maybe I'll just sample a little bit of both…

Christ. Shaking my head to clear that vision earns me a quizzical look. Even though I'm beginning to see that I might not really know her after all, I refuse to believe she's that calculating. No. She's not playing us; she just doesn't want to choose. This merry go round of waiting for her to choose me could go on for years.

"Why do you keep coming back to me?"

The question just popped out of my mouth, stunning her. It wasn't planned, but now that it's out there, I kind of want to know. Shit, wait. Maybe I don't.

She's doing the fish mouth thing. Open, close. Open, close. Joe, Ranger. Open, close. Never settling on one action, one decision.

"What kind of question is that?"

She finally recovers and goes from zero to indignant in five seconds flat. She knows I know who was on the phone and she's going to pick a fight to avoid having the discussion. Before this latest mess to untangle, it might have worked. Hell, a week ago it would have worked.

"It's the question I'm asking, Cupcake. Why do we keep doing this dance without ever changing anything?"

Her arms come up across her chest. "Because we love each other?"

"You sound like you're not sure."

She throws her arms up in the air, starting the arm-waving and gesticulating that used to turn me on. It was like foreplay. Now, I feel nothing down below, just resignation that one of us is going to have to be the grown-up, the bad guy, and ask the tough questions that neither of us wants to answer. Watching her with Ranger these last couple weeks was an eye-opener.

After she winds down, she drills me with a glare. "Why do you think we get back together?"

Running a hand through my hair, I blow out a sigh and rip the bandage off. "I think you're waiting for Ranger to want a relationship the same way I've been waiting for you to want to settle down with me. I think being with me suits you until I expect more and then you bolt."

"That's an asshole thing to say! I'm with you because I want to be."

I wish I could believe that. I know she eventually misses what we have, but is she ever going to choose it rather than fall into it by default?

"If Ranger came to you right now and said, be with me, would you turn him down?"

She hesitates a second too long and looks toward the wall to answer. "Ranger's not looking for that kind of relationship."

And there it is, folks. I'm the winner only because he's not playing. Might as well go for broke. "If I asked you to marry me right now, would you say yes?"

Her stunned silence tells me what I need to know. Squeezing my eyes shut and counting to twenty doesn't ease the pain. When I open my eyes again, hers are blazing.

"Normally guys have a ring when they ask."

I snort at that. "Normally a guy has some confidence that the girl is going to say yes before he shells out that kind of money. Would you say yes?"

"Why? Doesn't Gabriela want to play anymore? Is Terry Gilman busy? No windows to jump out of?"

My jaw clenches at that low blow, but I'm not surprised she's coming out swinging. This is what we do. And I might have skirted a line with Terry, but that was years ago. I'd bet my badge that she's done plenty more with Manoso since then.

"I asked you the other night if you wanted to go there. Since you apparently do, am I allowed to ask how many times you've been with Ranger, even when we're together? I get the feeling that Hawaii wasn't an isolated incident."

She recoils like I slapped her. Yeah, Cupcake, you don't get to have it both ways. We never really talked about what I interrupted, both happy to ignore the hula dancing hippo in the room. She opens her mouth to answer before closing it again.

"I take it you're not going to answer the question."

Her jaw is clenched tight. I recognize the attitude because it's one that I had not so long ago. The silence is heavy in the air, and I start fucking counting again to keep from bringing up Manoso again. He's always sitting there between us. We work together to keep her safe when we have to, passing her back and forth like we have fucking shared custody of her. It's a dance that I'm ready to be done with because I know I'm always going to be on the losing side of an ultimatum.

"I'm just not ready."

"Of course, you're not. That would be making a choice. Do you think you ever will be? Ready to settle down, get married, have kids?"

Her arms come back up over her chest. "Does it matter? You're the one that always said there was a you and a me, and sometimes we were together, but there was no us."

"Christ, Stephanie! That was years ago!"

"And you shutting me out when you thought you were sick and buying a pool table for the dining room says maybe it's still valid."

I blow out a sigh while my hand rakes my hair. She's not wrong. In the beginning, it was casual on my end…until fucking Manoso started looking at her like she might be fun to play with. Now I'm the one looking for some sort of commitment and she's getting farther away from it. The irony isn't lost one me.

I wait her out. If this is the end, then it's because we're both done, not because I lost my temper.

"I don't know. It feels a little like maybe I'm finally finding out who I'm meant to be. And I like the me I'm finding."

My heart hammers in my chest at the acceptance at the unspoken truth. Who she was meant to be is not the wife and mother I've been waiting for her to become. I thought if I waited and gave her enough time, she'd come around, but the longer I wait, the further we get from a goal that neither of us is sure of anymore.

"Do you have any plans for this new epiphany?"

She shrugs her shoulders, sniffling to keep the tears at bay.

As much as I don't want to hear that it wasn't going to be me, I have to know. "Were you ever going to make a choice?"

"I make choices every day!"

I think Steph bounces back from all the shit she's gone though in the last couple years because she chooses to ignore what's right in front of her. If she ignores the 'icky' stuff long enough, it will go away on its own. If she pretends she doesn't understand the question, she doesn't have to answer it. The deflection sparks a bit of the anger I've been trying to keep down since I realized that the cockblocker on the phone was Manoso and she was planning on cutting out on me to be with him.

"You're right. You choose to not learn the skills that would make you more effective at the job you blackmailed your way into. You choose to live like a broke college student rather than like an adult. You choose to settle for what I might offer you down the road rather than going after what you want right now and then sit and wonder what you could have had instead. But you're never going to choose which one of us you want."

"I can't!"

I look back at the cupcakes, both the chocolate ones and the one that I've wanted since she started chasing me for the bond, and I know this is the end of our fairytale. The dark knight may or may not get the maiden, but there's no happily ever after for Steph and me, not when she's in love with someone else and I'm the fucking fallback guy.

"I know. That's why I'm making it for us. I'll gather up everything of yours from the house and drop it off. I don't think I have anything here."

It kills me, the sucker-punched look on her face. "You're breaking up with me?"

Reaching for her and cupping her cheek, I feel her soft skin one last time. "We're already broken up, Steph. This time we're just not getting back together."

She bats my hand away in anger. "Why are you doing this?"

This would be easier if we were actually fighting, but I don't even have it in me anymore. There's a bottle of Jack at home I can dive into tonight, I just have to get through this. I shove my hands in my pocket to avoid reaching for her again, because if I do, I'll lose my resolve. "Because I already know who I was meant to be. I want a life with someone now, not maybe someday if we're on the same page. I want someone that can choose me and not second guess it. I want a wife to come home to. I want all the things that you don't."

Looking at her, with the tears running down her face, is a knife shoved right into the gut, but I know I'm doing the right thing for the both of us. "I want you to be happy, Steph, and I think it's time we admit that you're not really going to find that with me, not while you're finding out who you were meant to be."

Taking my chances, I step forward and place one final, long kiss on her crazy curls. "I'm always gonna love you, Steph. We're just not meant to be, I see that now. Go find your treasure."

The door is barely closed behind me when I hear a thump hitting it. If I had to guess, I'd say she's going to have a cupcake mess to clean up when she calms down. If I weren't so fucking miserable, I'd laugh at that. Yeah. Someone else is on Cupcake duty now.