The second she'd turned and strode away from him, weaving between the cars of the parking lot, Carlos dragged a hand over his mouth both in frustration that the thirty-six hours since their last meeting - confrontation really - had apparently done nothing to melt her icy demeanour toward him, and to stifle the grin that threatened to burst forth and ruin not just his reputation, but his chances of reconnecting with this gorgeous, rambunctious woman. God, she'd always been adorable when she was haughty, but now? Despite his best efforts and the warning bells in the back of his mind, he was falling for her all over again. Falling hard.
Tearing his gaze away from the swing of her ponytail, and the curve of her ass, he jogged to catch up, and fell into step beside her. It was clear from the pace she'd set that she was determined to make it a quick three blocks, but Carlos had a couple tricks up his sleeve to draw this out as long as he needed it to be.
"My name is Captain Ricardo Carlos Manoso," he started as they reached the sidewalk.
The unnecessary introduction earned him a nonplussed look from his companion. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
Carlos spared her a glance with a single raised eyebrow. "Talking," he stated simply, then turned his head forward. If he kept looking at her he was liable to try to kiss her, and it was clear they were not yet at that stage in their renewed friendship. Hell, Carlos was pretty sure what they had going on between them at that moment couldn't even be classed as friendship. Frenemies, perhaps? Steph seemed determined to hate him, and probably would have been happy if she never saw his face again, but if his whirling thoughts were any indication, not seeing her ever again wasn't going to satisfy him.
He hadn't been this distracted by thoughts of Stephanie Plum since he started Advanced Individual Training after basic and realised he had to focus on the here and now if he wanted to succeed on his chosen path. She'd always lingered in the back of his mind, like a ghost, haunting the deep recesses of his memory, but up until two days ago he'd managed to ignore it. Now, knowing she was right there, just out of reach, knowing that life was giving him a second chance, the ghost had become something of a poltergeist, thrashing through his brain without warning so that he could barely concentrate on his work.
This morning he'd slept later than he'd allowed himself in years, after pushing past the point of utter exhaustion yesterday to catch up on everything he'd missed while away on his mission. Then, when he'd returned to his apartment, he'd been unable to sleep despite his tiredness, until he'd put together a plan for his Stephanie Plum dilemma. A plan he hadn't realised he'd be enacting quite so soon.
Seeing her car in the parking lot when he jogged through on his way to the gym had been a pleasant surprise that only increased when a moment later he felt that telltale tingle on the back of his neck and turned to find Steph exiting the very gym he was about to enter. What were the chances?
Keeping his eyes forward, Carlos continued. "I served with the 75th Ranger Regiment."
"Hence the nickname?" Steph asked, her tone sounded bored, and borderline annoyed, but Carlos could tell her interest was piqued. She was curious. She'd always had a curious nature. He'd been right to assume she craved learning about the life he'd led as much as he did hers.
"It's where I earned it, yes," he conceded, with a subtle nod of his head. "I led numerous missions all around the world, and caught the eye of some very important people, and when I decided to retire from the military, those people offered me a contract with a government agency that I cannot name. I cannot disclose the nature of the contract, but suffice to say, my skills are uniquely suited to their needs, and the pay reflects that. This allowed me to fund the start up of my security company, Rangeman. I chose Miami as the first location, as it allowed me to be close to my Abuela, and also spend time with my daughter."
Steph's footstep halted abruptly, and Carlos turned to see the shocked expression on her face, her eyebrows rising above the shaded lenses of her sunglasses, mouth hanging open. "You have a daughter?" Her question was practically a croak as Carlos watched thoughts fly across her face. He wished her eyes weren't hidden right at that moment so he could see exactly what she was thinking. Would this particular piece of information help or hinder his efforts, he wondered.
Inclining his head again, he explained, "I met her mother, Rachel, at a party while I was on leave, and a one night stand and nine-months later I was a husband and a father. A terrible one at that. We weren't compatible. Divorced not long after."
"What's her name?" Steph asked. The vulnerable undertone cut Carlos to the core. She was hurt, but she didn't want him to know it. What was worse? He'd seen this look before. That first year of college when he'd attempted to date, to get over his crush on his best friend. She'd had that closed off look and that tone more often than not when they were with or talking about one of the girls he was with.
But he hadn't realised what it was back then. He'd just figured she didn't like the girls. But now? She was hurt to find out that Carlos had had a relationship with a woman that had resulted in a marriage, a baby and a divorce. Hurt for him? Or was it hurt that it wasn't her?
Flashes of their life during college zoomed through Carlos's brain and a dangerous seed of hope took hold in his gut. Dios. How had he ever managed to willingly walk away from this woman? How had he been so oblivious to what was right in front of his eyes? The very thing he'd wanted more than anything in the world. The person he wanted. And he'd managed to convince himself she didn't feel the same way. But could he have been wrong?
Hildebrand's words from as he was leaving the apartment two nights ago ran through his head, If you care for her even a fraction of what she cares for you, you'll find a way to fix this.
"Julie." The realisation, combined with thoughts of the daughter he barely knew caused his tone to soften and his instincts told him to lock down the emotions. Push them away, bury them under the hardened soldier persona he'd built his reputation around. But he was pretty sure doing so would only irritate Steph more. And besides, where she was concerned, he wasn't sure he wanted to hide parts of himself away. Turning on his heel, he started walking down the sidewalk again, not bothering to make sure Steph was following as he continued, "Her name is Julie. She'll be eight in June, and my relationship with her and her mother is so strained that they both call me Ranger."
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.
Carlos chanced another glance at her, gauging her reaction, and cursing the sunglasses anew when he realised he couldn't see her eyes. She was still beside him, which he thought was probably a good sign. But at the same time, maybe it was just that she'd agreed to let him have three blocks to talk to her, and she was going to honour the agreement. Either way, he was taking this as his chance to turn things around. Let her know what sport she was playing. Maybe not in so many words, but he'd start sketching out the field for her.
Determined, against the instincts he'd honed to perfection, to not hide behind his blank mask, he let a smile tick the corner of his lips up. "Stranger danger, B-" He cut himself off before he could call her Babe, knowing that it would only sour the mood, and between her demeanour and his information it was plenty sour already. "Back when we were sixteen, you wouldn't hang out with me until you knew more about me, and well, you already know my middle name and things like that, so I thought I'd share about my life in the last ten years."
He sensed more than saw her eye roll, but the accompanying sigh was loud and clear, as was the irritation in her tone when she asked, "You wanna hang out with me?"
Carlos shook his head. "I want to make up for all the wrongs I dealt against you by leaving and cutting you out of my life, and the only way I can think of to achieve that is to do everything in my power to ensure your success," he explained.
"And that involves laying out a blow by blow of your life since college like a series recap at the beginning of a new season?" she questioned. "Like, previously on Carlos Fucks Up Again…"
He should have taken offense to her comment, probably, but he couldn't. First of all, because her obvious attempt to imitate his pitch and accent was worse than he recalled, perhaps due to lack of practice, and that, for some reason, made him want to laugh. And second, because this was the woman he'd fallen in love with; the wit and sarcasm he'd missed over the intervening years.
"Well, at least I have the courtesy of updating you on the plot," he pointed out, tucking his hands into his pocket and wrapping his fingers over the object he'd attached to his keys late last night so he would have it with him on the off chance he'd run into her. "Unlike the time that new season of … what was that terrible show with the vampires that you loved so much?"
"True Blood?"
"That's the one. When the new season came out over winter break, and you insisted that if I wanted to hang out with you, we would be binge-watching it in it's entirety. But at no point did you offer me a summary of what had happened."
"With the way you let me babble on about every previous season and all the fan theories I'd seen online, I figured you knew what was going on!" she defended exactly the same way she had every other time he'd brought it up in the past. "Besides, you didn't exactly ask any questions."
"Because you shushed me every time I tried."
"Because you were talking over the show!" She threw up her hands in frustration, stopping again to face him, her head tipped up toward him and a look of indignation on her face. "God, Carlos, how are we supposed to know what's going on if we're not paying attention?"
How indeed, Carlos thought to himself, letting the joy he felt from their verbal sparring match show on his face as he smiled down at her. She'd just summed up the crux of their problem right there. Neither of them had been paying well enough attention to the other when they had the chance. If Steph was anything like Carlos, she had probably been terrified that saying anything about how she felt would lead to the world's most awkward conversation that would then hang over their heads for the rest of their lives. How were they supposed to continue being friends with a love confession watching them from the corner like a pervert at a strip club?
They'd both been so absorbed by their own feelings and worries about fucking everything up, that they hadn't paid attention to the signals the other was sending. Already, he was reflecting on events in those last months they were together under a new light and noticing things he hoped weren't just this new realisation altering his memories. Hope was building in his chest in a way he hadn't felt in years.
A longer-than-strictly-necessary moment passed between them, during which Carlos once again found himself biting back words like love and always, because despite his revelations, it was obvious that Steph wasn't currently in a place to accept such things from him, let alone return them. Whatever trauma he'd caused her when he cut ties needed to be resolved first, and in order to do that, he had to somehow convince her to let him back into her life. And if that meant he had to settle for being her friend first and foremost, then so be it. He had to earn back her trust first or they'd never make it as a couple.
Just as Carlos was searching for a way to get his plan for this conversation back on track, a car horn blasted at the next intersection, followed by shouting as people called insults to their fellow drivers, and the moment was shattered.
Steph spun away from him only to stop abruptly and lift her chin in triumph. "Time's up," she announced. "That's the third block done."
"Good thing, we have the three block walk back, then," Carlos replied, thumbing the object in his pocket as he tilted his head back in the direction they'd come from. The direction that held her car, and his original destination. Theoretically, he could have continued his walking and swapped out his gym session for an extended run instead, but it was Steph that was eager to part ways, not him, and he had more he wanted to say to her.
Once again, he sensed the narrowing of her eyes behind her shades, but the heat behind her gaze was like a warm summer breeze rather than the scorching decimation she probably intended it to be, because he knew he was right. "That's a rotten trick," she informed him as she crossed her arms over her chest and started back towards the gym, not even sparing him a glance over her shoulder as she attempted to leave him behind.
"I'm a tactician," Carlos shrugged, effortlessly lengthening his stride to catch up to her. "A strategist and an opportunist. I knew what I was asking."
He heard her grumble something under her breath, but didn't quite catch the words. Only the feeling that whatever she'd said wasn't exactly kind towards him.
It wasn't exactly a smooth transition into the reason he'd been lingering by her car when she emerged from the gym, but it was the only opportunity he was likely to get given Steph's current disdain for him. "I wanted to talk to you about the training Connie asked me to-"
"No," she cut him off. "I already told you, I don't want you or your men training me."
"I know."
She rolled her eyes so hard it was a physical head movement."Then why bring it up?"
"Connie asked me to train you as a favour, and I have to believe it's because she wants to make sure you're safe out there on the streets. Fugitive Apprehension is a dangerous game, and if you're not properly prepared -"
"Thanks for the lecture, Mom, but you don't have to worry about me," Steph once again cut in, her pace increasing even more so that she was on the cusp of a jog. "That's why I'm at the gym. Bear recommended a trainer I could work with instead."
Carlos removed his hand from his pocket, bringing his keys in front of him as he quickly detached the small item he'd brought for her. "All the same, I'd like you to keep this panic button on you any time you're out on the job; in case anything happens." He held the small medallion-sized device out towards her, noting that her curiosity caused her pace to slow back to an easy walk as she looked from him to it and back several times.
"Why would I do that?" Steph asked, brows furrowing.
"Because you value your personal safety?" Carlos suggested. "Anything happens and you need back up, hit that button and the Rangeman control room will be notified of your distress signal along with your location. If you're within Trenton, a patrol can be there in as little as five minutes."
"Why?" She pressed, and once again, Carlos found himself stopped in the middle of the sidewalk facing off against the woman who had been his best friend, whose friendship he hoped he could win back, one act of love at a time.
"Because I've witnessed first hand the evils of the world and it would kill me to learn that something bad had happened to you unnecessarily." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, stealing himself for the admission he was about to make. "The reason I said you can't be a bounty hunter the other night was because I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt. Everything I've done since the day I joined the army has been to keep those I care about safe, and letting you go off on your own without a safety net goes against every instinct I have. So, I know I haven't done anything to earn me any favours, but could you please wear the panic button to give me peace of mind?"
More staring ensued, and Carlos felt sure she was going to reject his request, flip her hair, and walk away, but after an agonising moment, she slowly reached out and took the button from him. She stared down at it for a moment, then sighed and tucked it into the pocket of her gym leggings. "Fine."
That one word was like a release valve inserted between his ribs, relieving an oddly familiar pressure he hadn't realised was building in his chest the longer she refused his assistance. "Thanks, Babe," he murmured.
And just like that the semi truce he thought they'd come to was shattered.
"Still not your Babe, Ranger," Steph snapped, the softly confused expression morphing instantly into an anger that he felt like a physical blow as she walked away from him once more.
It didn't kill the hope he'd gathered on their short walk, though. She'd loved him back in college. And if the hurt she was wielding like a battle axe was any indication, she still loved him. That meant there was still a chance for them to claw back the time they'd lost. He'd wait for her to come around. As long as it took. And in the meantime, he would do everything in his power to prove he was worthy of her love.
A revving engine drew his attention to the little red Miata as Steph tore out of the parking lot. The car was next on his list of safety upgrades she needed to make, but he had a feeling he'd have to work a little harder to convince her to accept the use of one of his fleet vehicles. Ultimately, if she needed a job, he wanted to offer her a position at Rangeman, but given her refusal to enter into a trainer/trainee dynamic with him, he doubted she'd be willing to be his employee, even if it would guarantee a steady paycheck and health insurance, unlike the bare bones agreement Vinnie probably offered her.
He was still working through potential strategies both for ensuring her safety in the field and healing their damaged friendship when he stepped inside the gym foyer.
"Fucking finally," his cousin called, crossing the space toward him. "You said to meet you here twenty minutes ago. What happened?"
"Took a detour," he explained shortly.
"Mmhmm," Les hummed, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking like the fucker he was. "A detour that happens to drive a red Mazda and goes by the name of Stephanie Plum?"
Carlos ground his teeth and kept his gaze forward, his steps never faltering on their path to the boxing ring in the far back room. "I changed my mind. I don't need to spar today."
"You sure?" Les asked, keeping pace beside him with the kind of bouncing energy one might expect from a puppy who was excited to go on a walk. "Because you're still heading for the ring, and it looks like you might be gearing up to fund your dentist's next holiday with how tight your jaw is. Steph didn't seem too happy when she drove away, did you find a way to make things even worse for yourself?"
Carlos didn't deign to answer, instead, climbing through the ropes and beckoning Lester to join him. Because he was right. Carlos did still want to spar. But only to wipe the knowing grin off his cousin's smug face.