I was working on a different story when this little tale came to me. It's relatively short and not related to anything else I've written. It takes place sometime after Twelve Sharp so there are possible spoilers up through then. Much of Lean Mean Thirteen and beyond didn't (and won't) happen. Because why go through all of that when Stephanie can connect with Ranger in a happier place?

Of course, as always, the Stephanie Plum characters belong to JE, though this story is mine. Also, brands and trademarks belong to their acknowledged owners. This story is purely for entertainment, so please be patient with mistakes.


Chapter 1: Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas

There it was again: that tingle playing along the back of her neck. The same as she'd felt last night, sitting at this same table and having cocktails after work. Well, having mimosas with her new friends Ted, Morgan, and Laurie after they'd gotten off of work and joined her at the end of another high-powered day of tanning.

Stephanie carefully picked up her drink selection for this evening, a mojito, only sloshing a tiny bit over the edge of the glass while she considered that, every day, it was easier to get used to the underemployed lifestyle here in Key Biscayne. It was hands-down better than her underemployed lifestyle in Trenton. She'd forgotten what it was like to just sit back, relax, and feel good about life. Without worrying about where the next dollar was coming from, which lowlife Vinnie would need her to wrestle over to Trenton PD for the bounty, or what the heck she was going to do about her morass of a lovelife.

Something to think about.

She took a sip. Well, maybe it was more like a swig. But really, why would anyone take little church-lady sips when they had the opportunity to celebrate the evening with a glass of minty lime-and-rum goodness mixed by people who clearly were geniuses of bartending? And it was a fine evening to celebrate, she affirmed with a circular swish of her glass. The sun had already set over the palms behind them in a rosy palette of colors, leaving the beach veranda lit by gas powered torches that lent a festive though vague heat to the almost brisk air.

And here she was, settling into another evening of appetizers-as-dinner at a bar perched along the beach, listening to upbeat, pop versions of Christmas songs. At the moment a honeyed, female voice was charming the half-empty veranda into the holiday spirit with a languid country version of Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas. Just moments before the speakers along the veranda's awning had been playing a classic version of Silver Bells.

It was just so weird, she mused, to be sitting amidst palm trees, with no snow, when it was less than a week before Christmas. No bulky parkas or boots. No reminders that her current car had bald tires and no heat.

It was weird but actually really, really nice.

Tonight there were fewer people around; it was just Stephanie and her new friend Ted with a handful of other evening beach-watchers scattered at other tables on the restaurant's veranda. The population of Key Biscayne was like the tide, she realized. These weeks in the lull between Thanksgiving and Christmas had been the foamy residue of low tide, with empty beaches dotted with occasional umbrellas and quiet restaurants in a picture-postcard landscape.

Already, though, another outsized wave of tourists had started to roll back onto the shore, where they'd fill the beaches with crowds and the restaurants with boisterous out-of-town accents. And all of Stephanie's new friends would get even busier at work.

Stephanie was glad she'd had the opportunity over the last couple of weeks to have her own low tide moment, before she had to roll, crashing back into snowy Trenton with all her baggage. Physical and otherwise. And with her own, personal lack of work or income. She pursed her lips in thought. From what Connie had said on the phone last week, the bail business was as quiet as the back room in a mortuary. Well, a normal mortuary; not one in the 'Burg.

In any case, as Connie described it, the weather had gotten so cold in Trenton, with so much snow piled up, that people were staying inside and having dancing, sugarplum dreams of crime, rather than venturing out into the slush to actually commit it. Scofflaws out on bail were turning themselves in early so they could have a nice bunk and three squares out of the freezing cold, courtesy of the New Jersey correctional system.

At that moment, as though summoned by her thoughts of the cold Trenton weather, Winter Wonderland started playing over the veranda speakers. Stephanie couldn't help rolling her eyes. Sleigh bells ring, snow is glistening, what a beautiful sight, frolicking and playing the Eskimo way… maybe her psychic network needed to change the channel. Were there any Christmas songs about getting away to someplace with palm trees and mojitos? If there weren't, that was something the world really needed.

A puff of breeze flipped the edges of a set of nautical-looking flags along the eaves of the more upscale restaurant next to them and tickled, unexpectedly cool, along Stephanie's slightly sunburned skin. She pulled her sweater a bit tighter, with a momentary silent prayer of thanks that Nordstrom Rack was just a bus ride away because she certainly hadn't planned for a string of almost chilly nights while in Florida.

She probably should have researched the weather a bit more before boarding the plane from New Jersey. But then, she really had only packed for her college roommate Ellie's wedding in Key Biscayne, followed by an extended weekend in the sun. How could she have known that she was heading out of Trenton just before a once-in-a-century set of snowstorms in the Northeast that would close airports and bounce airline reservations like children's toys for weeks?

"Did you want to go indoors?" Ted leaned toward her as he started to shrug off his own sweater. "It's warmer in there."

"No, this is fine," she smiled, gesturing for him to keep his sweater. "After all," she continued, "if I were home in Trenton at this moment, I'd be shivering in the snow, waiting for the next blizzard." At the thought, she pictured driving through the ice and snow to help her father shovel out their driveway, spending an evening taping plastic over all her windows to keep out the drafts, and visiting Dillon in the basement to reset her apartment fuse after tripping it with her vintage space heater.

Brushing aside those images, she opened her arms and exclaimed, "Instead, here I am, living the dream. Evening temperatures in the mid sixties, beachside restaurants that serve mozzarella sticks and shrimp in a basket," she gestured at the plates of appetizers that littered the table, "and holiday songs with Christmas decorations that I didn't have to hang."

"And mojitos," Ted chuckled as he signaled to the waitress at the bar.

"Never forget the mojitos," she nodded sagely.

"Hey Christie," Ted greeted the waitress with undeniable warmth, reaching out to hug the willowy, blonde woman in felt antlers. Her smile practically set the night alight as she greeted Ted in return.

"Hey Teddy," she answered with a brief glance at Stephanie. "And Teddy's friend."

Stephanie stiffened briefly, but then exhaled into her own Miss America smile as Ted introduced her to Christie.

And there it was: one of the other things she'd been figuring out since she'd been, here, away from home with unexpected time on her hands. At first, she'd been leary that Ted knew the waitresses by name, and they clearly all knew him. And were very friendly. Honestly, it had felt a little too familiar, just like Joe's suspiciously attentive female fan club. She'd almost written off Ted the first time they'd all gone out socially, for that very reason.

But then she'd seen Laurie and Morgan, her other frequent evening companions, act the same way. At which point, after an afternoon spent in a beach-friendly thinking position, she'd figured out that her new friends all lived and worked together on this small peninsula in the Atlantic, south of Miami. Along with all the waitresses, bartenders, store clerks, street musicians, and dog walkers she met along the way.

Stephanie chuckled inwardly, remembering the moment that she'd sat up suddenly with a shout, flinging sand into her satchel and probably giving a heart attack to the curious little beach crab that had been scuttling a few yards away, little pincer arms aquiver. "It's just like the 'Burg," she'd announced with a flourish to the mostly deserted beach. Well, really to the small family of seagulls that had lifted briefly into the air before resettling several yards away, wings twitching as though shaking off the insult of being compared to inhabitants of Trenton's Chambersburg neighborhood.

But really, Key Biscayne and the 'Burg were similarly insular. Maybe the Key was a bit larger, but it was more isolated geographically. And truly, everyone in the 'Burg knew each other. Just like her new friends knew everyone else in this small ornament of ocean-ringed land where the tides of their lives had swept them all.

And, happily, none of them was Joyce Barnhardt or— she shuddered briefly— Grandma Bella Morelli.

Somehow she'd never thought, before, about the fact that people grew up and lived in places that were tourist destinations. Or that maybe it was inevitable that people who lived in the same location would know each other, but maybe not be as in each other's shorts as much as the busybodies in the 'Burg. Beyond that, she'd never wondered before whether crabs could have heart attacks. It had been a truly eye-opening moment.

Noticing that Ted and Christie were still talking, Stephanie looked up and realized Ted was in the process of ordering more food. Her eyes narrowed briefly as he went ahead and ordered for both of them without asking. And, oh there was a Dickie flashback. Honestly, what in the paradise around her could possibly make her flash on moments with that waste of aftershave?

Then Christy brought her back to the present by repeating the order. At which point Stephanie realized Ted had ordered everything that she'd enjoyed last night. Beyond that, Ted had also ordered another mojito for her. And yeah, maybe he actually had asked what she wanted and she'd been slow to respond. Stephanie shrugged; she could live with that.

After all, she was still in the "getting to know you" phase with Ted. Really, it had only been a few weeks since she'd met Ted at her college roommate Ellie's wedding. Almost wiry, with tousled hair bleached from the sun and eyes that her mom would describe as hazel, Ted was something new and different for her. He was fun. He was not from the 'Burg, or even New Jersey. He did not work in law enforcement, or law whatsoever.

In other words, Ted wasn't like Dickie Orr, that dirt weasel. Which he'd just amply demonstrated by actually ordering what Stephanie liked. Instead of Dickie who had never figured that out.

Ted also wasn't too much like Joe Morelli; after all, Ted had a good and probably platonic reason to be friendly with other women. Stephanie smoothed out the grimace she'd felt forming along her lips. The fact that Ted was not much like Joe was a good thing right about now. Because, she was finally able to admit to herself that being apart from Joe had been one of the most surprising perks of this extended, unexpected time away from Trenton. It was giving her time to see whether their most recent break-up was as real as it seemed.

So far, she had to answer yes. For too long she'd been blinded by Joe's movie-star looks and bedroom eyes. Not to mention by the real-life fantasy of having hooked the most eligible bachelor in her community, right out from under women who'd been far more glamorous and popular like, oh, Terry Gilman. It had obscured the rather obvious fact that she and Joe just didn't mesh.

Well, not quite true. They meshed fairly spectacularly in bed. But apparently, unfortunately, and obviously that wasn't enough.

Stephanie reached across the table for one of the remaining fried mozzarella sticks while she pondered that line of thought. Actually, she and Joe had meshed well at first. Or, at least there had been sparks between them. Veritable fireworks at times. And fun. Lots of fun.

So what if they'd fought with each other occasionally, even from the very beginning of their relationship? Frankly, that that had led to some of that spectacular "meshing" in the bedroom whose memories still made Stephanie's toes curl.

Since those days, though, Stephanie had to admit that too much had been pushing them apart. Her job, his family, her family, their shared history, and the fact that a lot of what they had in common was shared irritation. And well... she sighed as she absent-mindedly nibbled on her mozzarella. And well, when she was honest, it was inescapably obvious that one of the intractable things pushing her and Joe apart had been a five-foot-ten, unfairly drop-dead handsome and outstandingly muscular man of mystery called Ranger.

She'd spent a lot of time thinking about the whole Joe situation over the past few weeks. Somehow it was easier to puzzle through her life while not being in the middle of it. Or maybe it was just having lots of time at the beach that made the whole thinking thing work better. Whatever it was, focusing on her relationship with Joe from afar had made a few things clear. Including an important Official Grownup Lesson (a phrase that she finger-quoted in her mind). That lesson was: it's possible to be lonely even when you spend all your time with someone who supposedly wants to marry you.

Not to mention that repeated break-ups were probably also not recommended in the pre-Cana marriage counselling handbook. Stephanie exhaled slowly, recalling another revelation from her recent beach retreat. That was: maybe she wouldn't have been so drawn to Ranger if being with Joe had been enough. After all, though Ranger was undoubtedly talented and handsome, he had always been clear that he wasn't interested in a deeper relationship.

Oh, he might help her, spend time with her, even share a bed with her upon occasion... but he always left. Ranger had never shown that he wanted her enough to get closer over the long haul, the way Joe had at least tried. At least, every other month when they weren't in the midst of breaking up.

"Stephie," Ted broke into her thoughts using the name her former roommate, Ellie the recent bride, had always called her. Stephanie smiled; it was fun to be that carefree girl again, even if it was just because Ellie had introduced her as though they were college freshmen, again. It was like starting over. Like backing up time to a point before she got married and taking a new look at what her life could be.

"Stephie," Ted repeated. "What do you think?"

Stephanie looked up quickly, with sudden worry that she'd been reciting The History of Stephanie's Bad Relationships and New Self Discoveries out loud. Reassured by the simple curiosity she saw on Ted's face, she grabbed her refilled mojito and started sipping while she tried to replay what Ted had been saying.

He smiled boyishly, with a slight shrug. "You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

"Maybe, uh... no?" Stephanie nibbled her lip.

"Don't worry," Ted reached out, with a soft squeeze to her hand. "Sorry about going on-and-on with Christie. She and I were next-door neighbors growing up, but it's been awhile since we've been together on the gossip train. It's hard to believe that her Uncle Bert is still doing stuff like blowing things up in his backyard," he started to laugh. "And then getting hit on the head by the falling mannequin? Totally priceless," Ted snorted.

Stephanie chuckled briefly along with Ted, easily imagining an incendiary backyard with improbable falling objects. At the same time, she felt her brow furrow in brief disorientation. Who would have imagined that there were stories of chaos and insane relatives that she didn't already know? Back in the 'Burg, she'd be the one regaling everyone with tales of Uncle Peppy's trash fires, or the time Great-Aunt Ethel invited over the Morrisville Cigar Club, where she was a charter member, to help throw her philandering husband's piano out the second story window.

She was used to being the one who knew all the connections, all the accumulated embarrassments in the 'Burg. For a moment, without shared history, she felt oddly empty.

Was this feeling of being left behind how Ranger felt whenever she'd launched into one of her 'Burg sagas? Apparently it was helpful, though confusing, to know things like the fact that Marky Nuncio's father-in-law used to breed minks in his basement, which explained his ex-wife's attire in several porn videos.

But here, those stories were simply goofy family tales, not the seemingly important lore of her extended neighborhood.

Stephanie mentally shook herself. She needed to stop thinking about Trenton. She needed to give herself the mental break that she'd promised herself this evening.

She needed to give her attention to the nice, attractive man in front of her. Who very pointedly had simply nodded to Christie as the willowy, antlered waitress had dropped off their next round of appetizers-as-dinner, and then turned his attention immediately back to Stephanie. Ted really was something different for her.

"So," she flashed a brief grin as she reached for one of the shrimp on the plate nearest her. "What fabulously clever thing did you say that I maybe completely missed a couple minutes ago?"

"They're showing James Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life on the big screen at the Community Center in town on Sunday afternoon. What I said that was completely clever," Ted's eyes danced, "was that we could go see it together after I get off work. And get ice cream at the dairy down the block."

Stephanie felt her heart blush. This was so nice. If she wasn't mistaken, a man was kinda, sorta asking her on a date. All that was missing was an offer to carry her schoolbooks for her.

But, oh no. Sunday. She sighed, "Oh Ted, I'm sorry, I can't." Seeing the confusion in his eyes, she continued, "My rescheduled, rescheduled-again flight back to Trenton is this Wednesday. So I'm actually going to get there for Christmas, even though I'm arriving on the day itself." She shrugged. "If I miss that, I'm probably hitchhiking my way up the coast for the holidays."

His smile faded as he shrugged. "Oh yeah, I forgot." Reaching out to her hand, again, he smiled. "Can't blame a guy for trying, though, huh?"

She smiled kindly. "It's nice of you to ask." She gently freed her hand and reached for another shrimp. "You should go see the movie, anyway," she said around a nibble. "Just because I'm a party pooper doesn't mean you can't have fun."

"But there won't be anyone there to be impressed that I can recite lines along with the movie," Ted's boyish smile returned. "Actually, nobody who knows me will watch that movie with me, because I know all the Jimmy Stewart lines."

She chuckled, choosing not to tell him that her current favorite holiday movie was The Nightmare Before Christmas. Or that that she probably also could recite all of Jimmy Stewart's dialogue in It's a Wonderful Life, but mostly because it was father's favorite holiday movie and she'd seen it probably a gazillion times.

"Life is full of sacrifices," she murmured around the last shrimp.

"Speaking of sacrifice… you know, of course, that you're leaving right when the big wave of Christmas tourists are arriving, along with the last of the snowbirds."

"This is a sacrifice why?" Stephanie peered up at Ted as she maneuvered the last appetizer plate— spicy meatballs with little reindeer-flagged toothpicks— to the center of the table.

"There's the overtime potential, for one. My cousin Bart would definitely give you more shifts at the Grouper Inn if you were here." Ted reached for one of the meatballs, no doubt realizing that it might be his last chance now that they were within Stephanie's reach. "He's really grateful that you agreed to pick up Ellie's shifts while she's on her honeymoon."

Stephanie paused, a quick fantasy reel playing in her mind. Christmas in Florida, nice weather, making money, no accidental-on-purpose encounters with Joe Morelli leading to… wherever they led. But who was she kidding? Her family might be crazy, but this was the big holiday of the year. If she wasn't there for Christmas, it just wouldn't be right.

Of course, she knew Grandma Mazur would understand. As she'd enthused during their most recent phone call, why shouldn't Stephanie spend as much time in the sun as she could, surrounded by all those hotties. In fact, Stephanie had needed to discourage her grandmother from somehow flying down to join her.

But the rest of her family… they would be baffled. Hurt to the core by a fundamental betrayal.

Stephanie sighed. When all was said and done, she was a daughter of the 'Burg, and family stuck together and flew in for Christmas. Even if they'd rather join the scofflaws in New Jersey lockup for the few days of the actual holidays. And at that moment, the veranda speakers tapped into her psychic channel yet again, and I'll be Home for Christmas started playing. Stephanie valiantly fought the urge to faceplant.

"Stephie," Ted mercifully interrupted her thoughts yet again. "Have you given any more thought to coming back after the holidays and staying through the spring season? I know for a fact that Bart has a couple people leaving and would hire you at the Inn for the season if you want." He looked down, fingers tracing through the condensation on his glass. "He'd probably hire you through the summer, too, if you wanted to stay." Ted looked up at her through his lashes.

She was suddenly reminded of Richie Cavallaro in third grade, when he'd offered her the first Gummy Bear from his lunch bag. It had been a gesture of such rare, courtly refinement in a year full of fart jokes that she'd found herself drifting into a dream-sequence future with Richie. In her mind's eye, she and Richie were sharing ice cream sandwiches outside of Genesee Drugs, shopping together at Barker's Toys and Crafts, being Mulder and Scully as they investigated the dried seaweed at Point Pleasant, maybe even getting married someday and buying a Buick LeSabre with the Grand Touring package.

And it all might have actually happened if Richard Cavallaro Senior hadn't been caught the following week for dipping into the Union pension fund. Shortly after that, Joey's mom had moved the family out of state, and that was the last of Richie Junior and courtly Gummy Bears.

She smiled at Ted, the current heir of her Gummy Bear fantasies. It was nice to have someone enthused at having her around.

"Or course I'm glad you're here Stephie," Ted said, clueing her into the fact that she must've spoken at least some of that last bit out loud. He reached out again, covering her hand as she felt herself blush. And there was that darned tingle on the back of her neck again.

"We all are," Ted emphasized after a pause. "Glad that you're here, that is. It would be great if you were here for longer. You fit right in."

She exhaled. Starting over was starting to sound good. Having spent a few weeks condo-sitting for Ellie these past few weeks over her honeymoon had given Stephanie ample opportunity to rethink her apartment in Trenton. Cozy home or working class slum? She had done the inventory: crappy uninsulated windows, ancient appliances, always-full dumpster in the middle of the parking lot, one wall outlet per room. Yeah, she was leaning toward slum.

Further, her new friends' seasonal lifestyle, with interludes spent at beachside bars and the spa, was making her lifestyle feel, well, less like independence and more like poverty. Maybe it was because their employment depended on people having fun, while hers depended on taking lowlifes to jail. Something to think about.

"Will you at least think about it?" Ted uncannily echoed her thoughts. "At least, let's keep in touch over the holidays." He reached into his jacket for his cellphone. "So it's not just me doing a sales job on why you should come back after the holidays, you can tell me how your Christmas is going. Give me something fun to imagine while I'm on ten-hour-a-day concierge duty."

She exhaled in amusement. "Sure, though here's a fair disclosure. Plum family Christmas is like all the National Lampoon holiday movies rolled into one big accident prone extravaganza. Hopefully Mom doesn't forget the ham this year and burn it into Christmas jerky, Grandma doesn't shoot anything with the gun in her purse, none of my cousins get arrested for indecent exposure, and Dad doesn't spend the entire holiday in the garage."

"You should juice up your phone to take movies at home. It sounds like you could make a fortune and become a media star."

Stephanie laughed out loud. "Believe me, fame is not something I'm looking for. Especially disaster-related fame." Stephanie inhaled, almost ready to confide that she was in the Trenton news often enough as the Bombshell Bounty Hunter. She was stopped by a return of that zing, like electric spiders along her neck, telling her to pay attention.

This time it was stronger, as though she was being watched. She leaned back to see more of the veranda. Her spidey senses had rarely let her down, but she didn't want to be too obvious. Always be aware of your surroundings, the shadow of Ranger's voice exhorted silently in her mind.

Their veranda had thinned out. Other than Ted and herself, there was one other table occupied a group of variously-aged people who were probably a family. They evidently had a lot to talk about, Stephanie noted, though could barely make out what they were saying. Apparently they were Jedi masters at the whole "using your indoor voice" technique that was pretty much an epic fail in New Jersey. It seemed to be something about bathroom remodeling, though, so Stephanie let her eyes flit over them without pause.

As she continued scanning, the veranda music transitioned to Feliz Navidad. Stephanie couldn't help but smile at a childhood memory of her Grandma Mazur breaking out what she claimed were Cha Cha moves to this song while baking sweet fruit kolaches for Christmas.

While she briefly pondered where her grandmother would have learned the Cha Cha while married to her staid Grandpa Mazur, Stephanie's gaze drifted to the beach. A few people were walking along the horizon, their distant silhouettes revealed by the moon above. She didn't see anyone obviously stopped or focused on this part of the dune above the beach. So she cast her gaze to the right, where a few parties seemed to be leaving the fancier restaurants a block or so away.

One older couple, a twin shadow backlit by a set of neon signs, was holding hands as they navigated the decking below their restaurant. The more feminine shadow was levering a cane in her free hand, the more masculine one had a bag, probably leftovers.

Stephanie paused, her people-watching genes kicking in. She sighed; the couple just looked so comfortable together. For a moment, she imagined herself holding the cane, hand-in-hand with someone with whom she'd spent a lifetime. Someone who knew her well enough to ensure he firmly grabbed the leftovers bag to take home. She wondered if her parents had moments like that when not surrounded by the drudge of daily life— and by their adult daughters who seemed unable to truly leave home. She wondered if she, herself, would ever have such moments.

Her scan of the area continued when a group of slim, feminine silhouettes passed in front of the older couple, sandals dangled between fingers as they headed on a separate path down to the beach. Obviously girlfriends gossiping about recent dates, jobs, and life in general.

Another movement caught her eyes a bit further away. Heading up toward the road and the parking lot, she saw the outline of a man and woman walking together. The woman's head tossed back and Stephanie thought she heard the distant melody of laughter.

But that wasn't what snared her attention. It was the man. His shape, his height, his gait. Her imagination could easily picture him as Ranger. Walking with a tall, slender woman. Enjoying the light breeze after dinner. Probably heading toward an expensive car, an exhilarating ride through the lush park that crowned Key Biscayne, and a late evening of getting to know each other better.

Maybe much better.

Unexpectedly, her dinner rang a heavy, yet hollow note in her stomach. It couldn't be Ranger, could it? Probably she had been thinking so much about Trenton and her recent relationships. Or something in the shrimp sauce was making her hallucinate. That was probably it.

She watched as the couple turned away, now hidden by the corner of the far building. Drawing upon willpower she didn't know she possessed, she stifled her urge to leave Ted and go follow the couple. After all, what would she do if she got there and it wasn't Ranger?

And what if it was Ranger?

She took a few deep breaths to slow her thoughts. Technically, it could be Ranger. Shortly after recovering from being shot by Scrog, he'd stopped by her apartment before heading to Miami to spend time with his daughter Julie. Which made sense. After all, the poor girl had been kidnapped and had nearly seen her father die in front of her.

When he'd shown up in her apartment, she'd thought it was a special gesture. But then, after telling her he'd be away in Miami for Julie, and maybe on business for a while, he'd handed her a black Rangeman polo shirt. It was still shrink-wrapped in plastic with a barcode sticker, like it was a gift from the tourist shop at Rangeman World. She'd tried to convince herself it was his version of bringing over birthday cake. Which would've been easier if he hadn't immediately headed toward her door, saying she should call Tank if she needed work while he was away. And then, of course, the next day he was gone.

But that was a few months ago. She knew because she had still been trying to work things out with Joe at the time. Now, a few months later, Ranger was still "in the wind" and she'd gotten used to him being gone.

One Ranger is all you'll ever need, she thought wistfully. Though that, of course, meant there needed to be at least one of them.

"Hey Stephie," Ted waved his hand in front of her face. Oops, apparently her scan of the bar and beachfront wasn't as casual as she'd imagined.

She returned her attention back to Ted, smiling as she picked up her drink once more. And how had she managed to practically finish yet another mojito without noticing? As Ted continued with reasons why Stephanie should return to Key Biscayne after the holidays, she listened, replied, and enjoyed the attention.

Feeling a bit traitorous, she reflected that Ted wasn't very much like Ranger. She nibbled the side of her lip. To be fair, Stephanie acknowledged, Ranger had started to open up over the past year or so. Nevertheless, Ranger kept far more hidden than he revealed, in manner and in speech.

It was no lie that he was the man of mystery, and she'd realized recently that she'd been happily filling in the blanks. In fact, ever since she'd met Ranger, she'd interpreted his gestures as evidence that he cared about her. After all, with anyone else it might be a fair assumption, as he helped her with marksmanship and skips, gave her cars, trusted her to hide him from the law, accepted her help with the Ramos family, and especially asked for her help to recover his daughter. Maybe it was even something like love in a walled-off heart.

But, for all she knew there was a whole fan club of ladies across Trenton who drove Ranger's cars, did his odd jobs, and occasionally shared a bed with him when their boyfriends were temporarily on hiatus. Maybe there was another club in Florida with whom he shared dinner at Key Biscayne restaurants, car rides through the palms, and nights of whatever.

Yeah, she knew she was being unreasonable. But, what was she to think about a man who repeatedly disappeared after seeming to get close? A man who always seemed more comfortable with her when she had a boyfriend in the wings.

A man who she still missed sometimes during the day and hungered for at night, though they'd never even been in an acknowledged relationship. Ranger, she'd decided, was like a drug.

Stephanie shook her head. Thinking of Ranger during months of absence, she'd discovered another Official Grownup Lesson, which was: sex with someone who kept their distance— physical and emotional— could be great in the moment, but as empty and cold as the pillow next to you in the morning when you woke up alone again. She'd actually already known that after the first time he'd shared her bed.

Ted nudged her from across the table. "It's getting late, sleepyhead. We should probably pay up and head out so the staff can close up sometime tonight."

"Oh yeah," Stephanie replied, thanking Ted inwardly for assuming her distraction was simply a case of being tired. Well, it was getting late. The diners at the veranda's other table were pushing out chairs and standing, getting ready to leave. She saw at least one furtive yawn, which threatened to start one of her own. And just in case she was having any psychic doubt that it was the end of the evening's festivities, It Came Upon a Midnight Clear started playing over the speakers.

After a brief tussle to pay the bill, which ended up a draw with the Ted and Stephanie each contributing half, Stephanie found herself and Ted walking down to the wooden walkway along the dune, headed back to the condo where she was staying.

When they finally reached Ellie's condo complex, and then her front door, Stephanie had steeled herself for the awkwardness. Because, though Ted was nice, she had only met him recently. She turned to him to bid him goodnight when he leaned in. Her shoulders stiffened, but to her surprise it was sweet. A gentleman's kiss goodnight, soft lips greeting hers, one hand brushing her hair back softly from her face, the other lightly wrapping around her key-holding hand.

And then he pulled away. His smile was almost embarrassed as he met her gaze. "I really enjoyed tonight," his voice half whispered.

"Me too," her reply was equally soft in the night air.

"I'll call you before your flight on Sunday." He winked with a youthful tilt to his head. "So you don't forget about us when you leave for the winter wonderland up north."

Stephanie smiled, releasing her hand from his grip one last time. She reached up as through straightening his collar, though actually just trying to recall how one said goodnight to an attentive man who wasn't staying over. Who wasn't Joe. Who wasn't Ranger.

"Don't worry. There's no way I'll forget." She retreated toward her door as he mirrored her in the other direction. "And I have your cell number to call you for Plum Christmas highlights, remember?"

"Can't wait," he smiled. "Go inside and get some sleep," he added, waiting far enough away that she knew he was simply watching over her while she fiddled with the lock.

"Goodnight," she called out as she stepped inside and closed the door, hearing his goodbye from the other side. Almost automatically, she turned the lock, set the deadbolt, and flipped off the light.

Maybe she should consider returning to Key Biscayne after the holidays, she thought while walking toward the bedroom in the scattered illumination of appliance LEDs and night lights. It really was nice having the chance to start over. To come home to a place that felt warm and open, even though it was small.

To meet people who didn't have generations of expectations of her. And, more to the point, to possibly meet men who were interested in her. Men, or actually a man, who would appreciate her for who she was becoming. A man who she might choose to know better.

After all, she wasn't having much luck with that in Trenton. Actually, she had the opposite of luck with men. If she had any interest in someone from the 'Burg, which wasn't likely at this point, they'd steer clear with the assumption she was destined to end up with Joe. Or, that she was trouble. Outside of that, most other men she met had rap sheets. The only other category were Rangemen, who would steer clear assuming she was under the watchful eye of their dangerous boss, Ranger.

She'd had more than a few fantasies of getting into the Federal Witness Protection Program just to meet new men. Even though she'd seen enough episodes of In Plain Sight to know better.

If all of that wasn't enough frustration, having been single for the better part of this past autumn after separating from Joe had led to yet one final Official Grownup Lesson. That was: her mother was addicted to fixing her up with men, but sucked at finding suitable matches. Of course, this was something that Stephanie had already known. The most recent unexpected blind date at Plum family dinner, though, had been the final straw. How could her mother even imagine that she'd be interested in Bennie Binman, a.k.a, Bingo the One Man Birthday Band?

She ground her teeth slightly at the memory. She could probably do better on her own when half drunk.

Actually, thinking about it, she had just done better. And with nice cocktails. Holy cow, she had just kinda-sorta just been on a date with a very nice man. She felt a flutter, a fizz along her lips, though she suspected that the sensation was more about the idea of a date than about Ted's sweet though tentative kiss. Because, though he was a nice guy and didn't seem to be a wacko or anything… well, she had spent the evening thinking about other men. It was hardly the sign of fascination, let alone passion.

Maybe, though, she was still in that rebound phase that Connie used to talk about. Something to consider.

Even so, it was a start. Maybe she could eventually be one of those people, like the older couple she'd seen earlier this evening. Walking comfortably with someone she'd known for a long time, sharing passion, sharing life. Perhaps it would be someone like Ranger, but who wanted a relationship. More likely, it would ultimately be someone like Ted, though that was something the future would tell her.

After a moment of pawing around the avalanche of clothes on the bed to find her nightshirt, she gave up and turned on the bedside lamp. Tomorrow morning she was planning to clean up, so the condo would be nice for Ellie when she got back from her honeymoon. Just to be sure, she'd set the timer on the coffee maker and had stocked up on pastries to entice her out of bed. Oh, and also she'd set wake-up alarms on her phone. Five of them, because you never knew which one would work.

Then, after a rousing morning of coffee and sugar enhanced clean-up, she had a whole day to enjoy. Her only obligation was to stop one last time at The Grouper Inn to pick up her pay. After that, she'd penciled some important time in her thinking position on the beach. Followed by one more evening to enjoy finger food and fruity drinks with friends while listening to the surf.

She really, really could get used to this lifestyle. Something new and different.

To be continued…


Note: Stephanie's travel situation in this story is loosely based on what actually occurred in the Northeast during the 2016 winter, a.k.a., the "Snowmageddon" that set crazy snowfall records. Every few days it snowed, and snowed, and snowed… and snowed. It shut down East Coast airports and Amtrak off-and-on for weeks. Flights got re-routed and travelers were stranded. It even caused the NY and Boston subways to completely shut down for a few days, which almost never happens. For reals: we had a 12-foot wall of snow in front of our house and the car stayed buried out back for over a month. Ah, good times!