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

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Includes a random prompt from the Janet Evanovich Fan Fiction Facebook group.

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"Dude, what's wrong?"

I'm still staring at my phone, wondering the same thing. It's been a long time since Steph sent out any sort of SOS signal, and this one was a weird one. She called and asked me to come to one of the newer subdivisions just outside of Trenton. Not a patrol unit. Me. "Not sure. Steph asked for some help."

Ram's movements stop mid jaw-cracking yawn. "She in trouble?"

"Unknown."

I'm already dialing Ranger. No way I'm not reporting this, and Steph didn't say it was a secret or some such shit. He answers with his usual gruff, "Speak!"

"Sir, Ms. Plum just requested my assistance—"

"I know. She's with Lula getting background on a skip and encountered an unusual situation. She called and asked if she could request your assistance. I approved it and alerted control that you're unavailable until she's done with you."

Well, shit. That tells me nothing about what I'm walking into. "Yes, sir. Any idea what we're going to be facing?"

I swear I hear him snort. "You won't need your gun."

With that, he disconnects, and I'm left staring at my phone. After another yawn, Ram asks, "Well?"

"I guess we're off on a Bomber adventure. All I know is that we apparently won't need our guns."

Ram raises an eyebrow before returning his focus to the road. I pop the address into the GPS, internally freaking out. It's never a good thing to be on the boss' radar, and being on Steph's radar means you're on Ranger's, too. Damn. Ram yawns again before slurping down a healthy dose of his coffee. It's a little disconcerting, watching him drink half the cup in one go. "Should you be driving? You're practically making out with that cup. All that yawning's making me want to take a nap."

"You take a nap, and I'll shoot you."

He looks completely serious, so I fight to keep the smile off my face. Still, we've been friends and partners a long time so there's no way I'm not going to at least poke the bear a little. "So, how's parenthood treating you?"

That gets me a smile. "Jack's great. We just need him to sleep a little longer at night."

We, being him and his awesome wife, Kelly. They had little Jackson David Ramsey a little over a month ago. He's not the first guy at Rangeman to have a baby, but you'd think it by the way he whips his phone out to share pictures all the time. After slogging through the shit we did in the Army, it's nice see to the good on the other side. I rode a desk for the three weeks when he took off after the baby was born, but we've been back on the streets for a week now. This is the first time he's looked less than fresh, though.

"Rough night?"

He smirks. "Normal night, except Kelly was wide awake after feeding him. Found a creative way to occupy her time."

"Fuck, I do not need to know shit like that."

He gives me a shit eating grin before reaching for his coffee again. Well doesn't that suck. His wife is a month post-partum and banned from actual sex, and yet he's still seeing more action than me. Fucker.

As directed by the disembodied GPS voice, we take a right into a new master planned community. Landscaping hasn't completely filled in and work is still being done on some houses. Ram takes a left, another left, and then a right before hitting the brakes hard enough to lock up the seatbelts. "What the actual fuck?"

We're both staring at the scene in front of us. After a few seconds, Ram turns to me. "I'm awake, right?"

I close my eyes before opening them again. "Uh, yeah. Pretty sure." I crack the door, getting ready to get out when I notice my partner's not moving. "Are you coming?"

He laughs. "She requested you, not me."

"Fucker."

My muttered curse gets me another laugh, but I do hear him getting out and following me. We stand at the curb taking it all in. Goats. There are mother freaking goats everywhere. Big ones, little ones. Light tawny brown ones all the way to inky black coats. Some have horns, but most don't. Some are eating bushes and grass, others are running around. One hungry fella is standing on his hind legs, snacking on a small tree. A loud screech has us hustling down the street. We come to a full stop at the sight of Lula trying to hold her poison green spandex skirt up while trying to get away from the goat trying to eat the fringe sewn on to the hem. It's managed to pull a 12-inch length of it free and is trying for more. She catches sight of us and yells, "Don't just stand there, help me! Lula don't do farm animals; you see what I'm saying?"

Ram shakes his head as I move her way, pulling out my pocketknife. It cuts cleanly through the length of fringe, freeing her from the goat's clutches. Lula quickly backs away, ready to take cover behind us. The light brown goat gives us a side-eye while we watch the rest of the trim slowly disappear into it's mouth like a piece of spaghetti. Done with that, it moves on to some kind of pink flowered bush at the next house over. From the corner of my eye, I notice a green F150 with a large horse trailer attached pulling up. A guy in jeans and shit-kickers gets out and opens the back of the trailer.

"No, no, no! Don't even think about it, asshole! I just planted these!"

Our attention goes to a woman taking up a defensive position in front of a row of small rose bushes. She's got a broom in hand, swatting at hungry goats. Looking at her stance, I absently wonder if she ever played soccer. Quick as shit, she gently bops a goat on the nose with the broom, herding him away from the roses. From the looks of it, they've already picked the rest of the flowers in her yard clean. The goat moves on, trotting toward the next yard and nearly running into Steph, who's playing tug of war with another snacking interloper. She gets the ballcap she was wrestling free, only to have the goat headbutt her just hard enough to knock her on her ass. That gets us moving and we weave around two dozen goats to get to her. She's already up and dusting herself off, looking at the rather bedraggled-looking Mets cap in her hands. "Stupid goats."

She's fine, thank fuck. Ram barely gets a chance to ask what the hell was going on when we hear, "Get your god damn goats of my lawn!"

Not something you hear in Jersey every day. We turn back and find the same woman shoving a still chewing goat, rose petals falling from it's mouth, toward the guy in shit-kickers. He grabs it and hauls the flailing animal toward the trailer. Ram grabs one that tries to run past him and does the same. As Steph starts herding a small goat after them, I jog up to the frustrated woman that's now standing with her head bent and pinching her nose. "Are you ok, ma'am?"

"No. Get your goats off my lawn? I sound like my freaking dad now. Get off my lawn, you punks!"

It's hard not to smile at the attitude she added on to the last part, so I shoot her a small grin before grabbing a goat and hauling it to the trailer. When I go to scoop up another one, I notice she's working to haul one to the trailer herself. We all work together and manage to get about half of them to the trailer. The other half managed to wander away during the chaos and I can see a few at the end of the block, making a run for it. With a muttered curse, shit-kicker goat guy gets in his truck and drives after them. Dude never said a word.

Steph heads toward the Firebird, pulling the mangled Mets cap out of her back pocket and handing it the woman. "Sorry I couldn't get it back from him sooner."

The woman barks out a laugh. "Thanks. It was my brother's. He'd probably be laughing his ass off about now."

Ram knocks Steph's shoulder. "What was up with the goats?"

"Lula and I were headed to some shop she wanted to check out, but I asked her to swing through here for a quick stop to check in with someone listed on Reggie DeMarco's file. Just background info, you know? Anyway, we knocked on a few neighbors' doors and all of a sudden there's goats everywhere. Don't even know where they came from. They were just suddenly there so I called for some help." I swear to god, you can't make up the weird ass crap she finds herself landing in.

The door to the Firebird opens and Lula hauls herself out. Steph shoots her a glare. "Thanks for the help, Lula!"

Lula gives her a bug-eyed look in return. "What part of Lula. Don't. Do. Farm. Animals did you not get? That little shit was eating my skirt! Who's going to fix this?" She gestures toward her now really too short skirt, showing part of an ass cheek when she does a partial turn to try and check out the damage in the back.

We all try and hold in a laugh. Steph shakes her head before looking at me and then our fellow goat herder. "Oh! Where are my manners. Deanna, this is Ram and Woody. Guys, this is Deanna. We'd just knocked on her door when the goat apocalypse happened."

Deanna offers her hand, shaking first with Ram and then me. A spark of awareness sizzles between us, or through me, at least. Steph's watching closely and smiles. I have to wonder if this was part of some sort of weird Bomber plan.

"Why'd you call for me, Steph?"

She shrugs. "I figured you'd know what to do with the goats." At my confused look, she adds, "Didn't you grow up doing cowboy stuff?"

"I grew up in Connecticut."

Lula makes a face. "There are ranches in Connecticut?"

"There are suburbs. Like the one I grew up in."

She contemplates that. "Huh. Woody ain't no Connecticut name."

Steph tilts her head. "Your last name is Porter."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What's your first name?"

I don't really advertise that, but it's not like she can't ask one of the guys or even Ranger. With an internal sigh, I grind out, "Harrison."

Steph's lips quirk at the corner. "Harrison Porter."

Ram slaps my back. "The third."

Steph's hand comes up in a stop motion. "So, wait. Harrison Porter the third. Where the hell does Woody come in? I just assumed your nickname had something to do with your name. Or being a cowboy. I've seen you wear a pair of boots before."

Trust me, I'm more than happy to let people think that. Unfortunately, Ram and I have been friends for many years. Too many years, based on the snickering going on beside me. Way back to basic training, which is many more years than I'd like to think about right now. Beside me, the lovely Deanna has a small smile on her face. Something tells me she knows where this is going. Fuck.

Ram's grinning. "You see, back in basic, young Harrison here had a massive crush on the DI…"

Steph pops in. "DI?"

He waves his hand. "Drill Instructor. For the female company training at the same time. Beautiful woman. Ice cold, but beautiful. One day she spoke to him. Well, yelled is more like it. And young master Porter popped wood in excitement. Our DI saw it and thus, the legend of Woody was born." Damage done, the bastard slaps me on the back again and wanders back to the truck, laughing at the memory. We'll definitely be meeting on the mats. Until then, I'm stuck with a snickering Lula, a silent Steph, and a virtual stranger who is trying hard not to laugh.

Steph, whose face is as red as mine, finally rallies. "So. Um, thanks for the help…Woody."

She's doing a better job at controlling herself than Lula, but as they climb into Lula's Firebird, I see Steph's shoulders shaking. Yeah, back at the office won't be awkward at all. Turning back to Deanna, I see her eyes sparkling with humor. "As someone who had to live with Stinkerbelle, thanks to my jerk brother, please tell me the nickname at least served you well."

I can't hold in my smile, and not just because of the cute as fuck way she crinkles her nose. I shrug. "Hasn't seem to hurt."

It doesn't usually come up, pun intended, but no, it hasn't hurt any. And that DI? Ran across her path a few years after I got out and was back in the area to visit a friend. The resulting night was totally worth the embarrassment and years of back-slapping. I tuck the memory back away and focus on the woman in front of me.

Still smiling, she asks, "So, was it because she was beautiful, or because she was yelling at you?" My eyebrows go up and she shrugs, "Hey, we all have our kinks!"

Without thought, my head falls back and the laugh that escapes surprises even me. Her hands are barely tucked into the front pockets of her jeans, and her hips sway gently while she aims another smile my way. Damn, she's beautiful. I push back a little. "What's yours?"

Her smile doesn't fade, even as a light blush dusts her cheeks. "Gonna have to pay the price of admission to learn that…Woody."

Well, hey now. Guess I might not be the only one feeling the connection. I pull my phone from the pocket of my cargos. "Need your number for that, Belle."

She briefly narrows her eyes at me tagging her with a shortened version of her childhood nickname before smiling and pulling her own phone out of her back pocket. I tap in her number and send her a quick text, smiling at the happy notification tone she has. She starts playing with her phone as Ram yells to me from the truck. Yeah, yeah, we're still on the clock. Turning toward him, I signal him to give me five minutes.

My phone chimes with an alert as I'm turning back to Deanna. She smiles as I look down and see Drinks? I promise not to yell…unless you want me to.

With a laugh, I meet her eyes. "It's a date. I'll call later with specifics. Try and stay out of trouble, Belle." Reluctantly, I head back to the truck and work. Throwing caution to the wind, I turn back. "And Belle, you can yell at me anytime."

Another blush, but she doesn't let me have the last word. "Oh, Woody. You're going to have to earn that yelling."

That stops me in my tracks. I can hear her laughing as she heads back to her house, giving me one last look before she shuts the door. Ram snickers as I adjust myself before climbing in the passenger seat. "Shut up, asshole."

"Did you get her number?"

"Yeah."

He reaches across for a fist bump. "Nice. Kelly will be thrilled."

"For me meeting someone to make the daily report to your wife must mean she's really hard up for entertainment. Falling down on your job, brother."

He barks out a laugh. "She has another two weeks of maternity leave and apparently there's only so much worth watching on tv. Reports on Steph's set-ups make her day."

"Fair enough, since they've provided the rest of us with a few laughs. Does this even count?"

"Steph technically introduced you, so... yes?"

I blow out a sigh. Guess I'll be making a report at tomorrow's meeting. "When does Kelly go back to work?"

"First day back is on the seventeenth. She's nervous about Jack's first day at daycare."

His tone tells me he is, too. First day back is on a Monday. It takes me all of two seconds to make a decision. "How 'bout I come over the night before and watch little man so you can take her out to dinner?"

Ram glances my way. "Yeah?"

"Sure." Why not. My sisters have kids, so it's not like I'm a newbie with babies. I'm fairly sure I can be trusted to keep a tiny human alive long enough for them to pop out for a meal.

He gives me a nod. "Thanks, brother."

Dispatch calls in with news of a potential break-in, ending the conversation. Guess Ram called in and let them know we're done here. On our way to check it out, I'm mentally scrolling my work schedule, thinking about where to take Deanna. Definitely somewhere where I won't end up with soup in my lap.