All characters belong to Janet Evanovich, I'm just playing.
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A/N: The Victorian slang was a meme in the Janet Evanovich Fan Fiction group.
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Chapter 5: Tank
"Wait, she paid someone to take her place?" Steph sounds mystified, horrified, and pissed. Seems like she's 0-2 in her quest to help the guys find love. A small crowd has gathered in the breakroom, both for Ella's breakfast offering, and to get the rundown on Binkie's date. After Zero's strikeout, more people placed bets on shit show than anything else.
Binkie shrugs and says, "Yep. But it turned out ok. We've texted a few times and we're going to go out when she's got a babysitter arranged."
Santos scratches his chin. "Wait. So, does that count as shit show or second date?"
"Second date." Steph is firm in her answer.
"But not with the person you set him up with."
She shrugs. "Was that part of the bet?"
Everyone holds their breath, not knowing how to react to Steph knowing about the betting pool. She rolls her eyes. "Please. You guys weren't exactly subtle about it. There's a second date in the plans, so it counts. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go yell at someone for being a jerk."
With that, she stomps down the hall. I wouldn't want to be Christy or whatever her name is. Ranger catches my eye and tilts his head toward the door. I guess it's time to get to work. We slowly make our way through the shift reports before moving on to scheduling and then the new contracts we've signed over the last week. While summarizing the last one, he cuts his eyes toward the door. Not even ten seconds later, there's a gentle knock that can only be Steph. I shake my head at the small smile that forms on Ranger's face. What would it be like to have that kind of connection with someone? After the mess with Lula, I've deliberately kept things casual, never letting anyone get close enough to confuse fun with forever. Shit, I still break out in a cold sweat thinking about waking up with Lula flashing a ring that I supposedly put on her finger. If not for her cat allergy, there's no telling what kind of crazy train I'd be riding.
Steph enters with a smile but pauses when she sees me. "Am I interrupting?"
I remain silent, letting the boss answer. "Just going through reports, Babe. You got something for me?"
"Yeah. I ran backgrounds on those two contractors like you asked."
Grabbing her hand, Ranger gives her an assessing look. "You alright, Babe? You look a little flushed."
With that, she honest to fuck blushes. "Babe?"
She avoids eye contact with me and only glances at Ranger before looking back down at the file again. "It's nothing. Lester and Junior were laughing about something, and I made the mistake of asking what they were talking about."
A sigh escapes my lips. I swear those two are an HR nightmare. Unfortunately, I'm the head of HR. "Do I want to know?"
Steph's cheeks get a little pink again. "Cupid's Kettledrums."
"Come again?"
"They found a list of old Victorian slang and were having some fun."
That absolutely sounds like those knuckleheads. "And kettledrums?" I ask.
She clears her throat. "Cupid's Kettledrums. You know, breasts."
The last part came out on a whisper and I'm not touching it with a ten-foot pole. It brings a hint of a smile to Ranger's face, though. He squeezes her hand. "Any other terms I need to know about?"
She bites her lip, debating. She finally answers. "They moved away from Victorian slang to just slang. I left before I heard what Devil's Doorbell referred to, though."
Fuck hint of a smile. The fucker's got a full-blown grin going, one that Lester likes to refer to as a guaranteed panty dropper. Steph tries to take a step back, but he's still holding her hand. Once upon a time, he was a love 'em and leave 'em type. Not as bad as Lester, but he made no bones about not getting involved with anyone for more than a night. Until Steph. She was a game changer he wasn't ready for and he fucked it up multiple times before they got on the same page. He uses her hand to pull her closer and casts a deliberate glance at her kitty before holding eye contact with her and slowly kissing the palm of her hand, saying, "Ding-Dong."
Steph's eyes bulge before going soft. "Oh!"
Yeah, oh. It's only the exaggerated gagging noise from me that pulls them out of their eye-fucking. Jesus, I'm happy for the two idiots, but I don't need a front row seat for this shit.
Ranger gives her hand another squeeze before letting her go and leaning back in his chair. "Nash and Sharpe?"
He's back to business, thank fuck. On the surface they seem like they'd be a good fit for Rangeman, but something's holding me back from offering them full-time contracts. Good to hear that Ranger asked Steph to take a deeper dive. I lean forward. "What'd you find?"
She shakes her head as if to clear it before giving a little grimace. "Nash is the less problematic of the two. I'll start with him." She hands a folder to Ranger. "Has an ex and a couple kids in Vermont that he's behind on court-ordered support for. Like way behind. And he's broke when he really shouldn't be. He makes a decent amount being a contract worker and inherited a small condo, free and clear. So, no big expenses, but he does large cash withdrawals from his checking account, even though he charges everything on his credit cards. Groceries, eating out, gas, utilities, everything. So, he's unlikely to be paying cash for everyday stuff."
I lean back in my chair. "Thoughts?"
Steph shrugs. "Because of the large withdrawals, I'd say drugs or gambling. In this case, probably gambling. You guys would have noticed if he was using."
Ranger flips open the second folder. "And Sharpe?"
My eyes widen a little when Steph rolls hers and says, "Not that sharp."
Ranger reads a little before shaking his head. "How did we miss this?"
Steph gives him a smirk. "You didn't have me running your checks for you."
She's finally starting to believe in her skills and instincts and it's a sight to see. Ranger looks from her to me. "Multiple warrants in Oklahoma, under Sharp, no E."
I'd be wary of the look he was giving me if it weren't for the fact that I wasn't the one to sign off on his contract in the first place. That was all him. Guess he can kick his own ass on the mat. Steph looks over at me. "What are you doing later?"
"No."
Steph looks startled and Ranger gives me a sharp look, no pun intended. No way am I going to be Steph a hook-up guinea pig. I learned my lesson with Lula; I'd rather be single. Bomber tries, and fails, to raise a single eyebrow in my direction.
"I'm happy to remain single. Move on to the next guy on the list."
Steph drops an impressive blank face while Ranger narrows his eyes at me, but only for a moment. He can give me all the shit he wants, but I'm not getting roped into a blind date to spare his woman's feelings. Not happening. She picks up her files. "I was wondering—"
"Nope."
She blinks a few times and squints at me before turning to Ranger. He jerks his head, letting me know we'll be meeting on the mats in the morning. Steph gives me a disappointed look that makes me want to back down for half a second before she addresses him. "I have a potential client that I'd like a second set of eyes for on a walk through. They have several cats, and there's a worry about them tripping sensors. I thought I'd ask the Cat Whisperer, but he's busy thinking about not dating. Can I take Ramon? He's got pets and might be able to look at things differently than me."
"Fuck no!"
I didn't realize I said it out loud until they both turn to me. Bossman's waiting for an explanation, but Steph just looks startled. Shit. "Ramon has dogs. Not even remotely the same thing. The fucker'd probably create ways for the cats to escape, hoping they'd get lost."
Okay, that might be harsh, but his dogs and my cats inadvertently met at the vet one weekend, and it was not good. As in, one of his mutts bears a permanent scar on his snout from trying to get too close to Applepuff's carrier. Ramon says his little leg humpers are anti-social now. No way am I letting him try and give advice on cats. Nope.
"What time?"
Steph looks a little unsure and glances between me and Ranger. He shrugs and her shoulders lower a fraction. "Two o'clock?"
"I'll meet you in the garage." With that, I make my escape before he starts eye fucking her again or she manages to get me to agree to a date, too.
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"Tell me about the potential client."
Steph's been quiet since we left the office, which isn't like her. Normally she's filling the air with chatter. I could've handled the scene in Bossman's office a little better, but I needed to be clear on the set-up thing. Not interested. Not even a little. Lula's antics burned me good.
Looking over at her, Steph's lips have turned down into a frown, so I add in, "Please."
With a sigh, she turns a little toward me rather than the window. "Author. Works from home. House is a small, renovated Victorian with porches, front and back. Part of the back one is enclosed. She called it her catio. There are four cats, and they have access to the enclosed part through a pet door. Problem is they also like windowsills and both the homeowner and I are worried about them setting off the sensors. They also tend to perch on places that I initially thought might be good for panic buttons."
I sense there's more she wants to say, but she leaves it at that. I understand her concerns; my cats are also windowsill fans, so I have a few ideas in mind. I like the idea of a catio; Whiskers would avoid it, because it's outside, but Applefpuff and Miss Kitty might appreciate the extra sunshine. I'm still noodling on it when we pull up to a house twenty minutes from Haywood. It's a solid middle-class neighborhood and while you can tell the house has been updated, it's understated, making it less of an obvious target. Good. Well-tended rose bushes dot the front flower bed, with larger specimens under the windows, making it a deterrent to someone hiding or trying to get in through the windows. As we traverse the front walk, I'm wondering if it was purposeful or happenstance. The small front porch has a homey feel. There are a few potted plants and rockers with small floral print pillows. I'm pleased to see a video doorbell. Steph pushes it and we have to wait no more than ten seconds before it's answered. The voice is smooth as honey but with a hint of island spice. I shake my head. Where the hell did that come from?
My musing is interrupted by the sound of deadbolts, plural, being disengaged and I realize that while I was thinking about honey and spice, Steph had been identifying us. I need to get my shit together.
That thought comes to a grinding halt when the door opens, and I'm struck dumb by the beautiful woman that stands there. She's tall; taller than Steph, but she still has to slightly tilt her head back to look up at me. Small, tight braids cascade down to the middle of her back and a small gold nose ring glints in the sun. I open my mouth to introduce myself, but nothing comes out. Taking over again, Steph elbows me in the side as she steps forward. "Hi, Jocelyn. I brought my boss, Tank Sherman, to assess and address the cat situation. He's a cat lover himself, so I thought he might take a look around and we can figure out how to keep both you and your babies safe."
The woman, Jocelyn, lights up at the mention of her babies and steps back. "Please, come in."
There's that spicy honey again, and I'm still struck mute. When I pass by her, I swear I smell honeysuckle and take a deep breath. Luckily, Jocelyn is closing the door and only Steph notices what I've done. She shakes her head when I ignore the wtf, creeper? look aimed my way. Jocelyn leads us to the living room and my eyes snake down and take in a world class ass and legs that would make a grown man weep.
Jocelyn turns and looks at us before I get my eyes back to a respectable location and we stare at each other a moment before she bold as brass gives me a head to toe perusal. I fight the urge to fidget like a green behind the ears recruit on the first day of boot camp. When she's done, she rewards me with a smile that hits me in the gut. I offer my hand. "Rangeman. I'm a Tank."
What. The. Actual. Fuck just came out of my mouth? I try and correct myself but only a breathy squeak comes out. Steph steps forward. "Tank Sherman, meet Jocelyn Smith."
She extends her hand. "Tank is quite fitting."
As soon as her smaller hand touches mine, I feel an electrical spark. Neither of us lets go until Steph clears her throat. Ranger needs to teach her the rules of being a wingman. I feel the loss as we let go and step back.
A grey tabby winds around my legs and I squat down to pick him up. "Who do we have here?"
"That would be Smokey. He's my newest rescue. He's still learning manners."
As if on command he tries to take a swipe at me, but I'm not new to the game. Gently setting him down, I start asking about her other cats and their habits. She shows us around, including the enclosed porch. In my head I'm thinking about placement and sensor type, but I'm cognizant of Jocelyn's movements at all times. When she brushes past me, her small inhale of breath tells me she's not unaffected by this brain killing spark that's trying to render me stupid. By the time Sir Wellington, Cinnamon, and Angel have come to check out the intruders, we have a decent game plan and I'm standing behind a wingback chair, hoping it'll hide the evidence of my interest in their owner.
Steph writes out the contract particulars in her folder while I search for something to say. "Stephanie said you're an author?"
"Yes."
"Of?"
"Romance novels." She watches me, like she's waiting for a reaction. I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to say.
"Do you enjoy it?"
Her smile is genuine. "I do. I like a happily ever after. The journey's kind of fun, too. Or maybe I just like torturing my characters. Sometimes they fight me, and I have to strong arm them into remembering I'm the boss."
"I know that feeling!"
Jocelyn reaches around me and plucks a book off the bookcase. "You should give this a read. Let me know if my research was put to good use and I got the action right."
"Action?"
Another smile, although this one has me sweating and making sure my dick is still hidden enough to not cause her to call the cops on me. I look down at the cover, taking in the shirtless man flexing and Striker Security etched in gold. Jocelyn taps the book. "You should maybe take a look at page 145."
With that she steps back, and I flip to the requested page. Jaxon ran his hand down her hip, taking in her breathy moan. Starla's body bucked as his hand came around the front, lingering just above her neatly trimmed curls. "So beautiful. So needy. Are you wet for me, baby?" Starla's whispered, "Yes!" had him gliding his fingers down to check. He stopped after just a small, delicate stroke, instead grabbing her hand and gently maneuvering it where he wanted. "Show me, baby. Show me how you want me to touch you. Show me how you want me to—"
Holy hell! I go to slam the book shut but end up fumbling with it until it falls to the floor with a loud smack. Steph's laugh turns into a weird cough as she turns her back on us. I look from Steph's shaking shoulders, to Jocelyn's amused eyes, to the book on the floor. I wouldn't mind knowing what happens next, what kind of sexy fuckery she came up with. My dick is pressing against my zipper, also interested. Damn. I know I need to pick up the book, but bending or squatting could cause some serious damage right now.
Steph draws Jocelyn's attention, for which I'm thankful. When I've finally willed my body into compliance, I pick up the book and set it back on the bookshelf. I make note of the author, Josie Smith, so I can look her up online. I dig through my wallet and retrieve a business card. When Jocelyn and Steph are done talking, I extend the card to Jocelyn.
"Call me. If you need any help with… research." Shit, that sounded dirty. And presumptuous. "For your book." Both Jocelyn and Steph look like they're trying not to laugh. "The action stuff. Or anything. Shit."
Steph is looking down at her notebook but it's obvious she's trying not to outright laugh at my fumbling. Again. Jocelyn's smile is slow to form, but it's blinding and makes me feel ten feet tall that's it's aimed at me. "I will, Mr. Sherman."
"Tank."
She's still smiling but purses her lips in thought. "Tank? Surely that is not what your mama named you."
"She didn't."
"And what moniker did she bestow on you?"
"Pierre." I can see Steph's eyebrow raise. She's so shocked I actually admitted it, and with no hesitation, that she doesn't even realize she managed the one-eyebrow thing she's been trying to master. Jocelyn offers her hand again and just like before it's a lightning bolt to the gut.
"Nice to meet you, Pierre. It was a pleasure to meet you."
"Have dinner with me." Crap. I didn't mean for it to come out as a demand and the way Jocelyn narrows her eyes, she didn't appreciate that it did. I backpeddle a bit, something I don't normally do. "I'd like to take you out to dinner. For coffee." Shit. "I mean, we could go for coffee if you'd prefer. But I can feed you. If you want. Or do both. I can do both. Can we do both? Or maybe breakfast?"
I'd be horrified by my verbal diarrhea if Jocelyn hadn't started smiling halfway through. Shit, did I just offer the woman breakfast? Her laugh is musical, and a spark shoots up my arm as she rubs her thumb along my hand before disengaging and offering, "How about we start with coffee and work our way up to dinner and around to breakfast?"
"Yes." My brevity gets me another smile and a minute headshake from a silent Steph. I'm going to need to grab some donuts as a bribe so she doesn't spread this story around the office. Christ, I stuttered and fumbled worse than an untried schoolboy looking to score a date with the head cheerleader. Not wanting to give her a chance to come to her senses, I offer, "Coffee, tomorrow?"
"I'd like that. Steph has my number."
Jocelyn walks us to the door, and I make my way down the walkway, determined not to look back. Still, when we get to the curb I turn and nearly twist my ankle when Jocelyn waves goodbye before closing the door. Christ. I feel like a spell is finally broken and my brain can function again. After I settle in my seat I turn to Steph, who has a giant smile on her face. "Shut up."
"I didn't say anything."
"Not out loud, but you're gloating."
"I'm just sitting here—"
"Gloating that I asked out the woman you tricked me into meeting."
Her smirk says it all. "I asked you to come with me to a site walk through. Nothing more, nothing less."
Fuck. I'm going to have to talk to Ranger about his girlfriend using her powers for good instead of evil.
