Stephanie was lucky enough to find a good parking spot in the garage, which seemed like a positive sign. She stepped onto the main floor of the museum a few minutes early, but Ranger was already there. Seeing the current Ranger wasn't as much of a jolt anymore. This seasoned version, with fine lines and silver temples, was rapidly replacing the fifteen-years-outdated version that she'd kept close in her memories and she found that she preferred it. Her heart still fluttered at the sight of him and she still felt that tingle at the back of her neck.

As he crossed the huge entry hall to meet her, she realized that he'd been standing in the one spot where he could see all the entrances. He was holding something in one hand that she guessed were their tickets. Despite the Uptown outfit, it seemed that Tactical Ranger was also present and accounted for.

They stopped when they were a couple of feet apart. She wasn't sure if they should hug, or shake hands, or just stand there. A nervous smile crossed her face as he stood before her and she managed a breathy hello then moved in to give him a quick hug. He returned it with the bonus of a peck on the cheek, but quickly stepped back.

"Before we head upstairs to the holiday exhibit," said Ranger, "I want to be sure that we're both on the same page. We're here because we'd like to regain the friendship we had."

Smiling, Steph teased, "Stating the mission objective?"

This was going to be a difficult day, and she hoped to inject as much lightness as she could.

"Gotta have a plan and at least a handful of backups." Ranger matched her tone at first, then the smile faded and Serious Ranger took over. At least he didn't go blank faced. "I'd like us to set some ground rules, not just for this visit, but for the whole process."

He took a deep breath then continued. "Stephanie, I can't –" He grimaced, and ran a hand through his hair then tried again. "This isn't something we can sit down with once and have it all worked out in an hour. This wound has had fifteen years to fester. At least, it has for me. It's going to take time to cut away the scar tissue. I know it won't be easy, but it will be worth it if we can see it through. But I don't want to start something, start to open up to you again, if you're not really committed to this. If you're going to leave when it gets painful."

His mistrust hurt her, but she knew that she deserved it because that was exactly what she'd done before. Love might bring people together but it didn't solve their conflicts. That was up to them. She'd skipped out on the hard work of a relationship and run. She did appreciate his forthright approach, and knew that she had to match it for this to work.

"I understand," she said. "I ask the same in return." Something in his eyes emboldened her to add, "Full disclosure here, I'm hoping we can find our way all the way back to what we had, but I'll settle for friends if I have to."

Stating that out loud directly to him made her feel more vulnerable than she ever had. She didn't think she'd be able to speak again until her nerves settled. Heart hammering with nervous expectation, she thought she'd jump out of her skin in the few seconds it took for him to respond.

"Agreed."

The word was a whisper, barely voiced and nearly unheard, as if he was having the same issues that she was.

Ranger cleared his throat, the harsh sound nearly lost in the noise of the crowd. "There's a lot of negative feelings to get past and a lot of unknowns. We're different people than we were fifteen years ago. We don't have much in the way of shared memories and shared experiences to draw us together. Essentially, we don't know each other anymore."

Stephanie had ruminated on this since she left the Hawkins Protective building the day before. She was dreading the emotional turmoil of dredging up the old hurts, and wanted to find a way to make the process less painful. She'd also been looking forward to reconnecting with Ranger, getting to know this newer version of him that had, like her, been molded by the experiences of the past fifteen years.

"I had been thinking along similar lines. I think I may have," hesitating, Stephanie put one hand out flat, parallel to the floor and tipped it side to side in a maybe / maybe not gesture, "a suggestion for that. How about while you're in Chicago, we do what we're doing now? By coming here," she waved a hand in a circle around her head, almost clipping an older woman walking past them, "we're simultaneously working out our issues and creating new shared experiences. Plus being out in public gives us something else to focus on when we need a break from the discussion."

Ranger mulled it over for a minute. "Sounds reasonable. Keep in mind that my time is heavily scheduled for this trip. I only have an hour and a half today but we should be able to meet another day for lunch or dinner as well as another outing. If I can't make it happen, it's a reflection of my duties as CEO of Rangeman, not a rejection of you."

"I get it," she assured him.

And she did understand, better than she had back then.

He would rearrange his calendar as much as he could, but CEO Manoso had heavy responsibilities that could affect the health of the business and the lives of hundreds of employees across several states. Sometimes Carlos the individual had to wait his turn. Stephanie had ruminated on that, too.

"I know that face to face is best for this situation," Stephanie said, "but considering the constraints we'll be under – time, distance – we should also make use of video calls, phone calls or texts, and even emails."

"Good idea," he said. "Now, how about we check out the annual Christmas exhibit?"

Ranger asked if she wanted to check her coat but Stephanie declined. Part of her needed to hold onto it in case she panicked or got too upset and needed to flee even though she had just promised not to do that. As contradictory as it sounded, knowing that she could run made her less likely to do so.

Besides, fidgeting with it would give her hands something to do. Ranger kept his, too, though she wasn't sure if he'd done it for the same reasons, or if he was burdened with weapons that the coat would help disguise. Then again, after she'd removed her coat and put it across her arm, he'd done the same. A covert side-long glance didn't show any suspicious bulges but she had no doubt he still adhered to the practice of two guns and a knife.

They joined the crowd of people headed for the rotunda, one floor up. As the escalator rose to the next floor, the Christmas and Holidays exhibit was revealed all around them. The center of the rotunda held an enormous tree which towered over the dozens of smaller trees that filled the space. Everything sparkled or twinkled and shined in every color of the rainbow mixed with silver and gold. It was amazing. There was even a little holiday gift shop.

As soon as they got off the escalator, Stephanie moved out of the way of the people behind her so that she could gape at it all.

"Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Exclaiming, she turned to Ranger to share the joy and found that he was already looking at her, an indulgent smile on his face.

"Truly, the most beautiful," he murmured and she blushed.

They spent the next few minutes shuffling along with the crowd admiring the smaller trees near them, taking in the ornaments and discussing the theme of the tree and what memories it might have brought up.

Then, while keeping his attention on the beautiful tree in front of them, Ranger asked, "Will you tell me where you went when you left? What you did?"

Steph huffed out a breath and braced herself. So, he really hadn't looked for her. She'd told him not to but somewhere deep down, she'd expected him to do it anyway. Telling the story to anyone wouldn't be easy to begin with. No one wants to admit to failure. But to lay it all out for the man she'd turned her back on, the man who'd continued to thrive in her absence, was a kind of torture. But not ten minutes ago, she'd given her word that she'd see this through.

"Well, in short, I went to Pittsburgh to become a big bad bounty hunter without any interference from … people."

"Like me?" asked Ranger. He kept looking at the display in front of him, which she appreciated. It was easier to talk about it if he wasn't looking right at her.

She nodded. "And Morelli. And my mother in her own special way." That last one called for half an eye roll.

Even though all she saw was his profile, she recognized the understanding that showed on Ranger's face.

"Pennsylvania doesn't license or register BEAs," he said. "No paper trail."

"Yep. I'd converted a lot of my cash to prepaid credit cards and switched to a burner phone for the same reason. Any fees I earned, I'd cash the check at the agency's bank and load the funds onto one of the cards. I rented the attic of a Victorian house that had been carved up into apartments. The owners were an old couple who lived on the first floor and gave a discount for cash."

This time he did turn his head to face her, even as he stepped aside to let other museum goers pass.

"How did things go? Did you reach your goal?" There was no judgement or sarcasm in his voice or expression. Ranger seemed genuinely curious.

"It was a lot harder than I thought it would be." Steph found the admission easier to divulge than anticipated. Maybe talking things out really was healthy. "I truly didn't realize how much of an advantage I had, thanks to growing up in the Burg, and who I was friends with. And who was friends with me, particularly cops and Rangeman."

She paused to give him a chance to say "I told you so" but to his credit, he didn't speak. Instead he nodded to show he'd heard her, and waited for her to continue as they strolled past more trees.

"Well, without any informants or a network in place I couldn't get enough info to find a single skip. One of the other BEAs helped me get my first take down, even though the others ignored me. She had some choice words for my technique and ability after that. It stung. Really stung, partly because it echoed everything you'd always said, but also because it came from a woman like me."

"If all it took was a woman's perspective then wouldn't Jeanne Ellen–"

Again his tone was simply curious, but it set off a little pocket of jealousy that Stephanie hadn't realized had been simmering all this time. Not jealous of Jeanne Ellen as a woman and possible rival for Ranger's attention – okay, maybe a little for that – but mostly for her skills at blending into Ranger's world. Jeanne Ellen was interchangeable with any one of the Merry Men. She was beautiful, poised, and could kick the ass of even the biggest, toughest FTA out there without breaking a nail, much less getting tossed into garbage. Jeanne Ellen's stun gun wouldn't fail to work. It wouldn't dare.

"Jeanne Ellen is not a woman like me," she said sharply. "Jeanne Ellen is what you get when you mix Catwoman, the Terminator, and a leather fetish."

She saw Ranger suppress a smile at the description, while a woman with a small child looked startled and hurried past them. Waving a hand in an ignore that gesture, Stephanie continued.

"Rita wasn't as tall as me and looked like someone you'd see working behind a desk. But she was outfitted like any one of your guys, and was proficient with or without weapons. She was someone I could relate to, and yet she would have fit right in at Rangeman.

"You, and the Merry Men, and Jeanne Ellen, you're all in another category. You've all been honed by years of strict as hell military training, and combat experience that I'd never have. You're all exceptional, and there was no way I could relate to that. I knew I could never match that skill level so I didn't try. It was like someone who'd never ice skated walking into a gym full of world champions and gold medalists. It's discouraging to an average person."

"Hey now. We never discouraged you." Ranger sounded affronted. "We did our best to support you, encourage you. We cheered your successes and offered you the tools you'd need. You turned us down time and again."

"Yes, I did and I'm trying to explain why I did. It was a combination of knowing that no matter how much I trained I'd never be your equal, added to never having anything bad happen to me, personally. Why go to the trouble of learning takedowns and holds and weapons when I was able to bring in skips without any of that, using my own unique methods."

Steph made the air quotes around "unique" and laced the word with scorn. Her methods had been unique alright, because nobody else in their right mind would ever do it that way.

By this time, they'd made their way to a quiet little corner of the exhibit, out of the main flow of traffic. She intended on staying right here for the rest of their discussion, even if only so that no one else overheard any outbursts.

Stephanie ran her tongue over her lip as she mulled over how to express herself. "I didn't have to up my game because deep down, on some instinctive level, I knew that I was always safe around you. You made me feel protected."

Ranger sent a sharp, short exhale through his nose, his version of a scoff. "I tried, but you wouldn't cooperate."

"I resisted your efforts because I didn't understand the danger. It didn't seem real to me. Hell, I've been shot and all I needed was a few stitches and a bandaid so maybe that threat seemed like it was no big deal. It may also have been because the threats were always neutralized, which made it hard to see them as real. Maybe because I'd never seen the aftermath of true violence."

Ranger raised an eyebrow. "Lula will be surprised to hear that," he said dryly. "Ramirez dumped her on your fire escape naked, bloody, and unconscious. You're the one who pulled her in and called 911. You and I were together when we found Drager shot through the back of the head execution style, and that's not the only body you've seen up close and personal - it's just the tip of the iceberg. How about Petiak and his flamethrower? You've seen violence first hand."

A whirlwind of images raced through Stephanie's mind. The creepy late-night tapping on her bedroom window. Throwing open the curtains to see what looked like a dummy. The dark brown skin masking at first the presence of the dark red blood. So much blood. It covered every bit of the body and gushed from between the legs. One arm was wrenched at an unnatural angle. The face was a battered and bloody mess. The eyes swollen shut from the beating. It was only the polish left on the few fingernails that hadn't been broken that had given Stephanie the identity.

She barely remembered dragging Lula's unconscious body into her apartment, getting covered in her blood, or calling 911 for the ambulance. Lula had spent several days in intensive care from those injuries, plus severe internal damage. The doctors treating her included a surgeon and a gynecologist. Remembering made Stephanie's stomach churn. She clutched a hand to her stomach to get herself under control and pushed away the images.

Stephanie had to swallow hard before she could speak. "I know I did. Over time, the stuff that wasn't gruesome became ordinary. Not scary at all. Oh look, another guy shot in the head. Some of it, like the flamethrower bodies, was so extreme that it seemed like something staged, like a movie set. And some of it was so horrible and terrifying that I blocked it out as much as I could. I didn't want to remember it, so I pushed it away to the point where I almost never thought about it but if I did, my brain cleaned it up for me. Like with Lula, if I ever thought about that night, I pictured her stuffed into one of her spandex dresses with maybe a black eye."

"Violence is both pervasive and played-down in modern society," she continued. "Everyone watches it on tv, and in the movies, where some guy gets punched in the face five times and all that happens is his lip is a little puffy. Or some woman is portrayed as the victim of extreme domestic violence and she'll have a faint bruise on one cheek. The images always downplay the effects. That's what got into my head."

Ranger gave a couple of barely-there nods as he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her. It looked like he was taking in her words. Knowing him, he was processing their meaning to her and how they applied to their situation back then, and adding them to the facts of the case to get a new understanding of motives and actions.

"When Rita's feedback hit a nerve," he asked, "how did you respond?"

She shrugged, knowing she hadn't reacted strongly enough. "I signed up for a free self defense course at a local martial arts center. I figured I'd work on that first then later, when I had more funds, I'd switch from defense to offense and take additional courses."

They paused to look over at the escalator as a family with three young children came up, the children chattering loudly with excitement over the holiday wonderland. Their voices reverberated through the rotunda, loudly enough to be heard over the general murmur of the crowd.

Stephanie heard the mother say, "Inside voices, you guys. Remember, we talked about this when we got out of the car. Use your inside voices."

The father didn't seem to be helping her, and Steph was about to get indignant on her behalf when she realized that he had a baby strapped to his chest, and was feeding it a bottle as they walked.

Once the family quieted down and it was possible to talk without raising his voice, Ranger asked, "What about your gun?"

She felt a pang go through her chest. She paled, then felt herself flush with, what? Embarrassment? Shame? Dread? Of course, he didn't know. That was an ordinary question from him.

"I put that on the back burner as too expensive. Range time costs money, but not as much as blowing through the boxes of ammo needed for practicing. All for something I'd rarely need. I figured that it could wait."

She could see him cataloging her reaction and cursed her lack of blank face, not that she'd needed one for a long time. Of course he asked the natural follow-up question.

"You said the other BEAs ignored you. Did upping your skill set change their attitudes?"

"Um. Well. Upping the skill set takes time so it's not like I turned into a defensive expert after a couple of classes. I was still basically the same but more motivated to improve. The other BEAs still weren't friendly, but at least they stopped freezing me out. I did get a few of them to partner with me for a percentage of the bond. I saw it as an opportunity to show off my moves. Let them see first hand what I could do, especially once I started taking those classes."

She smiled ruefully at that last bit. Oh, she'd shown them all right. Shown them how ill-equipped she still was for the task.

"Were you able to forge partnerships? Maybe make some new friends?"

"Not so much on the partnerships. As for making friends, I also tried to establish a common bond with them."

Stephanie looked down at her shoes for a minute, trying to decide how much to divulge. There was no way she'd tell him about The Incident of course, not now and maybe not ever. But there were other things she could mention, all of them embarrassing. She looked at Ranger when she spoke again.

"There was one time most of them had gone out to the local bar and I tagged along. They started exchanging funny stories of takedowns gone wrong. I thought, Okay, the professional level is pretty rocky but here's my chance to engage on a personal level and maybe later I can convert that to professional as well. So, I shared some of the stories like Punky Balog and his vaseline, and Lula with her purse full of bacon, and the pack of chihuahuas, and some of the other things Lula got up to because I thought the stories would be entertaining."

Stephanie sighed deeply, remembering.

Gary had been the top dog of the office, and Russ was second. They were best buds and two of a kind– chauvinist, arrogant, pricks. No one had been more impressed with them than they were, not even their doting mothers. Together they had set the tone for the office. It was like Mean Girls and high school cliques all over again. They'd made it clear that in their view, Stephanie had no business being a bounty hunter. Stephanie had been lucky that Rita had ignored them and helped her.

Gary and Russ had been there that evening, front and center. As Stephanie told her stories, the others had laughed along at first. But Gary hadn't. Russ hadn't. They leaned back in their chairs, just staring at her. Gary had stretched out one arm and wrapped his hand around the bottle of beer resting on the table. One side of his upper lip had been curled up, like he had smelled something bad. Russ had crossed his arms over his chest, mouth tightened into a flat line, his head barely moving as he shook it side to side in the world's tiniest "no".

The others picked up on their attitude and the laughter died down into an uneasy silence. Some of them looked down at the table. Others bounced their gaze between her and Gary and Russ. The mood became so uncomfortable that her story petered out mid sentence, and all she could do was stare back at everyone. Gary and Russ looked only at her.

When Gary spoke, she had heard the disgust in his tone even over the background noise of the bar.

"Do you even hear yourself?" Gary had asked.

Russ moved his head to speak to Gary, but kept his eyes on Stephanie. "Maybe it's one of those things where you talk about yourself in the third person?"

Stephanie felt like the floor had fallen out from under her. She had no idea what was going on, but she knew it wasn't good, and it was directed at her.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

Gary shifted to sit forward, one elbow on the table. "So this Lula. She's untrained, unprepared, but thinks she's hot shit, never does as she's told, and makes a hash out of everything, frequently putting others in danger. In fact, her partner is in more danger from her than from the skip. Right?"

Steph didn't respond, not sure if she should agree, or disagree, or just leave the bar. In front of her, Gary and Russ shared a sidelong glance then looked back at her.

"What do you think you do?" asked Gary.

Russ turned to Gary, and buddy-punched his shoulder. "Oh, I know – Lula must be her street name." Russ turned back to Steph and, in a loud fake-cheerful tone, he chirped "Hi, Lula. Pleased to meet you, Lula. Hope you don't shoot me by accident, Lula."

Gary snickered. "After you rolled around in the garbage by the Italian joint, Lula, did you wash the food off or have it for lunch?"

As the pair continued taunting her, Stephanie had wanted to disappear. She had been so embarrassed that her cheeks felt hot, and there was a lump in her throat that she wouldn't be able to talk around. Her eyes were starting to water and her nose began to run. Fumbling, she managed to pull some cash from her purse and toss it on the table to cover her tab, then she walked out.

Now, Stephanie started to look away but made herself meet Ranger's gaze as she replied. "It, um, it didn't go as well as I'd hoped. They, um, they started calling me Lula."

Ranger's immediate response was to pull her in for a hug. She'd seen the sympathy in his eyes, and heard it in the soothing Spanish whispers in her ear. She loved the feel of his strong arms around her, his warm body against hers, even if the feel of one of his arms was muffled by the coat he'd draped over it and her coat and purse were squished between them. She breathed in the scent of him, and found comfort in all of it.

How could she ever have left this? Why had she been so hard headed? She'd put them through so much pain. She was grateful he'd been willing to see her, much less talk to her. Gary and Russ were assholes, but they weren't wrong. She had been Rangeman's Lula. She'd overestimated her skills, underestimated threats, and ignored the directions of people with far more experience than her. And she'd been rude about it too.

She let go of Ranger and moved back.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," he murmured.

"They were dicks, but they had a point," Stephanie admitted. "It hurt like hell, though. Not even high school was that mortifying, and that includes 10th grade when Rickie Peters tripped me in the cafeteria and not only did I hit the floor with my face smushed into my full lunch tray, but somehow on the way down, the socks I had rolled up and stuffed into my bra popped out and one of them bounced off a table and plopped right into Mrs. Schmidt's tomato bisque soup and splattered it all over her white blouse. She looked like she'd just committed a murder, and I'm pretty sure she was contemplating mine."

The corner of Ranger's mouth twitched.

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Go ahead. It took me years to live it down, but I can laugh about it now."

Chuckling, he brushed her cheek with his fingertips. "Babe. You never disappoint."

Her breath caught in her throat. He called her Babe, again. That was what – twice? three times? – since they'd run into each other? It had to mean something. Please let it mean something. Putting it aside to ponder later, she went on.

"Anyway, sooner than I had originally planned, I added offensive moves to the training schedule and spent the money to sign up for martial arts." She looked at her watch. "That story will have to wait. It's almost pumpkin time for you, Cinderfella. Your hour and a half is almost up."

No sooner had she finished speaking than the pocket with his phone vibrated. He must have set an alarm, which meant the client meetings were crucial and he couldn't afford to be late.

Stephanie could see the reluctance in his face, hear it in his voice when he apologized and offered to walk her to her car.

"Can you spare the time?" Her question was sincere. She didn't want a chivalrous gesture on his part to cost his company a valuable client.

"I'm parked in the garage too, so it's on my way." Putting his hand on the small of her back, Ranger guided them toward the down escalator. "We still have a few minutes. When you left, you said that you were going to come back. Why didn't you?"

There was a hurt, haunted look in his eyes that she hated, because she was the one who put it there.

"I meant to come back when I'd established a reputation as a badass, but it was harder than I thought. And things didn't go well. There wouldn't be any return in triumph from Pittsburgh so I," pausing, she sighed, chagrined to admit it, "ran again. And the longer I was gone, the harder it was to return, and I thought fewer people would remember me. Out of sight, out of mind, right? And I knew that I'd hurt a lot of people by being gone so long that I didn't think anyone would want to see me. Nobody would be glad to have me back. I just knew that I'd ruined everything, and everyone would be mad at me."

As she explained herself, they crossed the entry hall, with Ranger guiding them around the other visitors then aiming them at the elevator to the underground parking garage. He hit the button and they put their coats on while they waited for the elevator to arrive. Neither spoke while they waited, or when they entered the elevator car with other passengers. Only when they exited the elevator and were traversing the garage did he speak.

"I can see why you might have thought that way," Ranger said, "but if you'd reached out, even if just by letter, you'd have learned you were always wanted back."

Holding back tears, she nodded then choked out, "I get that, now. Do me a favor, please? Don't tell anyone that we're talking, or that you've run into me."

Frowning, he looked at her. "You have my word. But why?"

"Because you're not the only one that I hurt when I left and I can't deal with everyone at once. I need to take this one person at a time, with the most important person first."

He gave her an understanding look and nodded.

"Anyway," Stephanie said as she wiped her eyes, "I don't want to end this on a heavy note. Those gorgeous holiday displays helped make this Not Awful, but I'd also like something light to counteract all the deep discussion."

"Ah. Like a palate cleanser between courses of a banquet," he suggested.

"Or a bit of dessert at the end of the meal." She was pleased that he'd picked up on her meaning. That was a good sign, right? That they could still fall into sync?

"I'll start," Stephanie said. "I'm between hamsters at the moment. The last one I had was a girl named Petunia. She passed away a couple of years ago. Though I had gone through a series of Rex 2, Rex 3, and Rex 4 before that. Of course none of them could hold a candle to Rex the First. He was such a special little guy. I swear he knew what I was talking about. He lived an incredibly long time, too. Almost twice as long as average for a hamster. Sometimes I wonder if it was some kind of record."

Ranger gave her a funny look. On anyone else, she'd say it was guilt, but that couldn't be right. He opened his mouth as if to speak but nothing happened for a good five seconds. His tone was tentative when he finally said, "You should know –" but that was all he got out before he paused again. Something flashed through his eyes and he said decisively, "that it sounds like Rex really was The Wonder Hamster."

"Thank you. How about you? Did you ever get a pet?" Stephanie asked as a formality, never expecting the mischievous grin as he said yes. Shocked, she halted."You. Have a pet."

From the twinkle in his eyes it was clear he'd enjoyed surprising her. Before he could speak she guessed. "Belgian Malinois? German Shepherd? Retired military dog? A boa?" Each time he shook his head 'no'. "Okay, I give up. What kind of pet do you have?"

Ranger gave her his 200 watt smile as he said, "A cat."

It took Stephanie a moment to realize that he'd really said what she'd heard him say. She just couldn't picture it happening.

"How did you end up –"

He shrugged one shoulder and started walking again. "Tank and Julie ganged up on me. They came into my apartment with this scrawny, half-starved, little thing that apparently only I could save. He was about six months old at the time and small for his age. He turned into a big beautiful cat. He is long-haired, tabby and white, with very noticeable pantaloons and ear tufts. He's taller and longer than the average cat. Eighteen pounds but none of it fat."

Hearing Ranger say "pantaloons" in an off-hand way, as if it was a normal part of his everyday, special forces, badass security professional, life, made her brain pause, like a download stuck on buffering. Stephanie managed to keep going as if this wasn't odd. And, to be fair, to him it wasn't. Ranger as a cat dad was just one of the changes that she'd missed while she'd been gone.

"What's his name?" she asked.

Ranger grinned again, clearly waiting for her reaction. "Señor Pantalones Esponjosos."

"Which means?" She pointed across the row and down at her car as she spoke and they changed direction to head toward it.

"Mister Fluffy Pants. Julie wanted to name him Fancy Pants McFluffyboi with a Spanish twist."

Stephanie smiled, picturing Julie ambushing her dad. "That's a mouthful either way. You didn't want a more macho name, like Butch or Rambo?"

Ranger laughed. "Not at all. This made my daughter happy and I'm secure enough that a cat with a silly name won't threaten my masculinity. Besides, he ended up with several nicknames. I usually call him Mister Pants, or Chico Travieso, or Chorizo."

She never had learned any Spanish and what little she'd picked up back then was long gone but she knew her food. "Pants is self-evident and chorizo is some kind of sausage, so what is that other one?"

"Naughty Boy. He's a playful cat and likes getting into all kinds of trouble. Next time, I'll show you pictures."

With that, they reached her car. Ranger checked his watch again and muttered under his breath. It was clear that he wanted to stay but couldn't.

"It's okay," said Stephanie. "Check your calendar, and we also have phone, video calls, and texts."

He leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek and she tried to keep it casual, but it was like throwing gasoline on a burning coal. Heat exploded between them as his mouth fell on hers, and they kissed with abandon with his arms around her shoulders, and hers around his waist. He pressed her up against her car, each of them forgetting their very public setting.

His phone chimed and Ranger pulled away, both of them panting, as he held her face cupped in his hands. He rested his forehead against hers. "Christ, Stephanie. Your touch sets my soul on fire, and all my self-control burns away. I can't think of anything but wanting you, taking you. Dios mio, I've never wanted anyone the way I want you."

Before she had the breath to reply, he'd turned and walked away.

Author's Note:

This will be a slow burn but they WILL get back to HEA, I promise. Along the way, we'll see the journey from both sides. The next chapter will be Ranger's POV and will cover some of the issues that he needs to apologize for.