Chapter 55: We Talk? Part II
Steph’s POV
The next morning, I make it clear I don’t want to talk about his op or our relationship any more this week. Ranger puts his blank face in place and nods. I know he’s confused. I’m confused, but I know two things.
One: Denial Land will see me soon, and Two: Ella’s list is important. I need to know what I want before I talk to Ranger or I might agree to everything he says. Then I’ll be angry and looking to get out of it, except I’ve never made a promise to Ranger that I’ve broken. I’d like to keep that record.
I’m finally starting to see how important Ella’s list is. She and Grandma were right. I’ve never been able to tell Dickie, Joe or Ranger what I want in a relationship, just what I don’t want. Dickie dictated the terms in our marriage. I decorated a house I hated because he felt it was the appropriate house for an up-and-coming lawyer. I agreed to start cooking lessons for the dinner parties he assumed we would have. I bit my tongue at his mother’s rude comments instead of saying something because Dickie’s balls were (and still are) owned by her.
By the time I caught him screwing Joyce on my dining room table (the only piece of furniture in that entire house I picked and loved), I was ready to call it quits. I didn’t want to go to marital counseling to save my marriage. I was almost tempted to send Joyce a thank you note to thank her for giving me the perfect excuse to divorce him without Mom getting on my nerves.
Joe? I’ve always known what Joe expected. It’s why I wouldn’t marry him, why I was afraid to marry him. It would have been Dickie all over again. He would have turned me into his mother or my mother. He never asked me what I wanted and didn’t want me to say anything while he dictated terms to me. He was frustrated because I wouldn’t move in with him, permanently. He was frustrated because I can’t cook. He was frustrated because I wouldn’t give up bounty hunting. I was frustrated he threw away my peanut butter. I wouldn’t have married Joe until I was ready to hang up my handcuffs and start having babies.
Ranger? I’ve never known what Ranger might want in a relationship. I still have no clue, and he’s always told me that he wasn’t relationship material. He’s always said he didn’t want to get married. He said his love came with a condom, not a ring. Now he’s telling me I’m his? That I can be certain of that? No I can’t. I’ve never been certain of that. I’ve wondered. He’s given me cars, guns, and backup, but that’s stuff. That’s not words.
I want words.
I’m realizing that I want Ranger to say more than just ‘Babe’. Babe is not a sentence. It’s a word. I want words, more than one.
I will give Ranger credit for two things. One, I’ve gotten the actions. Now that I’ve had time away from him, Joe, and all the ‘Burg, I realize that I’ve always gotten the actions. When my car blew up, he replaced it. When I was kidnapped, he came for me. When I needed money, I had a job, one I only half did sometimes. Ranger gives me things, but that’s like me giving Javier money in NYC. Great, but Javi needed words. He needed to know I trusted his judgment. After all the shit he’d been through, he needed words. I gave Javi my trust and he proved he could do the job. Ranger apologized and Javier has been a different man. Ranger gave Javi words and they made all the difference. Ranger’s given me things but he hasn’t given me words. I get te amo but it’s not enough.
I also give Ranger credit for never trying to turn me into a ‘Burg housewife. I’ve never known what he might want but I know what he doesn’t need. He doesn’t need me to be domestic like Joe and Dickie did. Ranger has housekeepers who are even better at cooking and cleaning than I am. Ranger never asked me to cook while we were in Miami, and any cooking I did was because I wanted to. Even yesterday, the salad I made was because I was hungry and I wanted something to eat. I noticed in Miami that he picked up after me. I would drop things and he cleaned up. I didn’t think about that until yesterday, when Ranger cleared away all my cooking stuff.
Our week in Miami was the best week we’ve ever spent together. Ranger let me call the shots. We did what I wanted to do as long as we didn’t go out in public. Even there, he risked his cover to take me to the movies and the botanical gardens because I was fed up with being at his house. It was the most romantic time we’ve ever spent together, but that’s it for the entirety of four years.
One week over four years is all I’ve gotten. I want more.
Our week at Point Pleasant is almost a repeat of our week in Miami.
Saturday
We decide to sit around the house and watch movies. We play poker and I learn that my blank face is absolute crap with Ranger. He calls all of my hands, all the time. I find my laptop and schedule mandatory time on my calendar to work on it. We grill steaks and shrimp and make a massive salad, and Ranger teases me about my newfound love of ‘bark and twigs’. I scowl and eat the steak and shrimp for dinner, pointedly ignoring the rabbit food.
He catches me hours later, in the kitchen, eating the leftover salad directly from the container. He takes pictures and we tussle over his phone. He willingly hands it over somewhere between the third and fourth bout of sex on the kitchen countertops.
I delete the incriminating photos while Ranger feeds me ice cream then licks the melted ice cream from my body. We decide against ice cream in bed after we both wake after the sixth bout of sex that day to find we’re stuck together.
Sunday
I review the company figures, including some intriguing results from ‘the Boston campaign’. I decide to take a break at noon, so I go to the library to find Ranger, who spent the morning reviewing intel.
“How’s the case?” I get an eyebrow. “I know you can’t tell me anything. All I want to know is if it’s going well or not. Do you need more time?”
Something I can’t describe crosses Ranger’s face before he gives me a small smile and nods. He beckons me forward and kisses my fingers.
“Thanks, Babe,” he says quietly.
I go to the kitchen and look at our options. It’s not looking good. Everything would require cooking. I decide to call Ella.
“Ella?”
“Stephanie? Is everything OK?”
“Yes, everything is fine, but I need to make a meal and I don’t know what to do with what I have.”
“Well, what do you have?”
I list my ingredients and Ella hums. “Is there a bottle of roasted garlic vinaigrette?”
“Yes.”
“OK, well you have the ingredients for one of Ranger’s favorite salads! Combine the artichokes, chickpeas, cucumbers, tomatoes, green beans and the oil-packed tuna with the vinaigrette. Let that marinate together for 30 minutes and serve it with arugula and some French bread.”
I’m pulling things out of the fridge as she speaks. I’ll have to buy bread, but we have everything else. I put together the salad then poke my head in the library.
“Hey.” Ranger turns. “I’m headed to the grocery store for bread.”
“Babe,” Ranger says, looking worried, “not a good idea.”
“I passed Hal’s pop quiz on trailing and evasion techniques. I know how to do a cleaning sweep and check for a tail.”
“Really?” Ranger looks intrigued, so I tell him about ditching Joyce twice. By the time I get around to the part about Danny driving up, Ranger’s laughing so hard he’s wiping tears.
“Babe.”
I shrug. “I hear she’s a little upset. It took her two days to get out of the Pine Barrens.” Ranger kisses my forehead and hands me his rental car keys. I head to the grocery store and grab the bread and the rest of the stuff on Ranger’s quick grocery list. I’m back in 30 minutes and I find Ranger in the bedroom office.
“Ranger?”
He turns and sets the binoculars on the shelf. “Just checking.”
I would get mad, except he thought he might have been followed. I decide to leave this alone. I head back downstairs and notice that the salad is noticeably smaller. Ranger has his blank face on.
“Come here.”
He narrows his eyes but comes closer. I smile and pull him closer for a kiss.
Garlic.
“How much of lunch did you eat?”
His lips twitch. “My favorite. Dangerous to leave that salad around me.” He takes the French bread and cuts and toasts it while I toss the salad with the arugula and test it. It’s pretty good. We divide the salad up and I notice there’s enough for another serving for dinner.
“I made lunch. What’s dinner?”
“What do you want?”
“Dunno.” I look at the fridge then look at Ranger.
“We can grill tuna steaks to go with the salad for dinner.”
Not bad. Another decision today made together. I look at Ranger and he’s smiling at me. He takes my hand and we smile at each other.
“Breakfast?”
“Doughnuts.”
Ranger laughs. I haven’t changed that much.
Monday
Ranger stuns me by rolling up a rug and putting on salsa music. We salsa around the great room for at least an hour before just swaying in place. I have a great time and I learn that Ranger can really dance. He even teaches me a few more dances. I learn that a bachata requires recovery time (his thigh spends the entire time between my legs. He grins. “If I don’t give you an orgasm, I didn’t do it well.”), my cha cha needs work (I’m sure Hector knows how), and I’d nearly forgotten how to rumba, but the more we dance, the quicker it comes back. Ranger is shocked that I can mambo and merengue. No, he’s thrilled that I know the mambo–well, as much as Ranger is going to show. He smiles the entire time. That’s my clue.
I teach Ranger the basics of a waltz after realizing he doesn’t know how.
“When was I ever gonna waltz in Miami, Babe?” he says, watching his feet.
“I don’t know. Weddings? Funerals? Dance competitions?”
I get an eyebrow for that.
Once Ranger has the waltz down, I teach him the foxtrot and jitterbug. We get started on a Charleston, but Ranger watches me perform my part first and decides that’s just a bit much. Then he grins and shows me a dance I’ve never heard of. It looks like a Charleston but requires more movement.
“What’s that?”
“Cupid Shuffle.”
“What?”
Ranger pulls me forward and walks me through it. “Better learn it now, Babe. Tank and Lula’s wedding will be incredible, believe me, and this dance originated in Lafayette, where Tank is from. I promise you you’ll end up doing this at the wedding.”
Ranger teaches me the Cupid Shuffle, the cha cha slide, corrects my Hustle, and we both practice the Macarena.
“You think we’ll end up doing the Macarena?”
“Well, I’m not humping you on the dance floor.” I stop and stare at Ranger, who shakes his head. “I’ve met Tank’s family. I love his momma, but the rest of the family is,” Ranger thinks, “interesting.” He grins. “There will be a few babies made at that reception.”
My eyes are wide and Ranger nods.
“I’ll double up on the birth control for that wedding.”
“I’ll double strap.”
We look at each other and nod. Another decision made.
Tuesday
Ranger takes over meal prep, not just healthy meals, but stuff closer to what I like. We grill shrimp and steaks to go with the vegetables (I wrinkle my nose. Ranger smiles) and Ranger shows me how to make sorbet, while telling me not to eat the stuff in the grocery store.
“Seriously, Babe. That stuff is pure sugar. Just get some ripe fruit and make your own. It will always be better.”
I shrug, but sneak off to the grocery store and look at the labels while Ranger goes for a jog. I purchase two pints and bring them back to the house.
“These aren’t too bad.” I picked flavors with ingredients I could pronounce, something I learned from Maria.
Ranger looks at the labels and smiles. “OK, you win. Good call, Babe. Reading labels, now?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Was that an attempt to make me read labels?”
Ranger throws his head back and laughs. “Nope. Hadn’t even thought of it. I just want you to eat the best food out there. No junk.” He kisses me and grins. “I’d like to see you reach Edna’s age.”
I shiver. Visions of Grandma in a bikini dance through my head.
Ranger restarts my self-defense training. It’s actually pretty fun with him. The first time I found myself pinned, I was naked in minutes. Same the second, third, fourth . . . tenth time.
“You should consider Krav Maga, Babe.”
I remember Lester saying something about that. “What is it?”
“Israeli tactical self-defense. Dirty street fighting. No holds barred, nothing off limits. Using your body’s natural defense mechanism for protection. You’d be a natural.”
I roll my hips and Ranger slides inside. It’s the last we discuss self-defense for hours.
I thought about refusing sex but I’m not stupid. Ranger is magic in . . . wherever and I like sex. My sugar supply has been decreased, but I’ve been exercising so much that the energy I would normally devote to sex is being depleted. It’s horrible but effective. I’m not horny all the time.
We make love all over his house and it’s a repeat of his last two nights in Trenton. He’s gentle one minute, rough the next. Again, I’m getting the actions and the words, in Spanish. My blank face slips and Ranger smiles.
“How long have you understood what te amo meant?” he asks softly, nuzzling my neck.
“I looked it up after you left.”
He tweaks my nipple. “And?”
A shudder rolls through me. I just orgasmed and he’s putting me on sensory overload. I’ll orgasm again in minutes if he keeps it up. “Why don’t you say it in English?”
I feel him smile at me. “Debido a que mi lenguaje del amor es el español. Cuando yo hablo en mi lengua materna, me dirijo a ustedes desde mi corazón. Me pregunté cuánto tiempo tomaría para que te conviertas en la curiosidad de saber lo que estaba diciendo.” (Because my love language is Spanish. When I speak in my mother tongue, I speak to you from my heart. I wondered how long it would take for you to become curious to know what I was saying.)
Shit. I understood about half of that. Ranger talks much faster than Hector.
I hear a chuckle in my ear. “Hector’s been teaching you?”
“Sí,” I mutter, irritated. I’m stunned when Ranger rolls away, turns on a light and laughs. He smiles the 1000W smile.
“Babe,” he says, smiling.
“Eso es irritante.” (That’s irritating.)
“¿Qué es?” (What is?)
I think about the sentence I want to say and realize I’m missing some words. I sigh.
“Necesito más de ‘Babe’, Carlos.” (I need more than ‘Babe’, Carlos.)
Ranger’s eyes go wide and the next thing I know, I’m chanting his name. The next three hours are the most amazing lovemaking I’ve ever had. He leaves no inch of my body untouched and he whispers te amo the entire time. I cry at the end and Ranger wipes away my tears and settles me close to his body.
“Sé que necesitas más de ‘Babe’, Stephanie, pero necesito que me diga lo que necesitas. Te daré todo lo que desees. Basta con que me lo pides. Sólo quiero que me ames como te amo.” (“I know you need more than ‘Babe’, Stephanie, but I need you to tell me what you need. I’ll give you anything you want. Simply ask me. I just want you to love me as I love you.)
Again, I got about half that sentence. Sigh. We’re going to have to talk about this.
Wednesday
I bring Ranger up to date on the company. He’s quiet.
“Proud of you, Babe.”
I smile. “I’m not sure what to do with these weeks at the beach for the men.”
“What was your original idea?”
I sigh and kiss Ranger’s collarbone. I can feel his cock stirring next to my hip. I’ll have to make another condom run. “When we were in NYC, right after we hired Jorge, Les and I watched him, Diego, and Manny bounce ideas around with Javi. It was brilliant. You would’ve loved it. I thought the strategists should definitely get together to do it and when I rented the house the idea popped in my head. Like a leadership retreat. I thought it would be good for the XOs too. I’m not sure what to do with the liaisons.”
Ranger nods and strokes my back. “RangeWorld. Call Hector to join them and let them build it out. Each group can get together and decide what’s needed for their branch.”
I grin. Perfect! Finally, something to do with them.
“I’m impressed, Babe. I knew you’d blow things up.” I frown but I can see Ranger’s 1000W smile in the dark. “Seriously. I told you that I was certain that I wouldn’t recognize my company when this year was over and, from what little Hector tells me, I’m certain I was right.” He kisses my forehead.
“Hector doesn’t tell you what I’m up to?” I thought he did.
“Nope. He said I’ll get the full report at the end of the year. He doesn’t want to feed me anything more about your success until then. What you’ve told me is the most I’ve learned since NYC. So if you don’t tell me, I don’t know.” He snorts. “Sneaky little shit. He’s even locked me out of all of the reports.” He chuckles. “I can’t wait to take him to the mats and remind him who’s boss.”
“I’m the boss.”
Ranger blinks and looks at me. I’m smiling. I love my partner. “I stand corrected. You are the boss. My apologies, Babe.” He chuckles then laughs. “Can I have access to my company again? Please?”
“Nope. You asked me to run it. You’ll have to get your info from me.”
Ranger laughs. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh like that and it’s infectious. I start laughing too and we’re both in stitches. I have to get Hector something special. “So what does he tell you?”
“Last story I heard was you caught a skip by slamming a car door in his face. I loved it. Laughed for hours because I could imagine it.” He chuckles softly. “He did tell me the guys gave you free rein. Anything you want to do you can do, and I agree, Babe. 5% growth?” He raises an eyebrow. “It’s taking all I have not to show my appreciation all over your body. Have you thought about staying on?”
I sigh and flop back on the bed. Ranger rolls over on top of me and slides his hands between my thighs. I guess he lost the fight. “I like the job but. . . “I’m rapidly losing the ability to think, “I don’t have any freedom. I can’t dictate my day.” The fingers stop. “I’m frustrated.”
“Babe, look at me.” I look into Ranger’s eyes. He’s solemn. “Stick with it until you make standards, OK? You’ll have more freedom then.” I nod. “I would work from this house one out of three weeks, just to escape Trenton.”
Ella is never wrong. “So when you were ‘in the wind’?”
Ranger grins. “One hour away. Just to have time to myself.”
Something else to talk about later. I ponder Ranger’s statement. “Hal and Hector are overprotective,” I grumble.
“They love you and they’re scared of something happening to you before you can hold your own. Sorry Babe, but experience tells them to shadow you until they’re certain you can hold your own.”
I blow out a breath and bite my lip to keep from crying. No freedom. I’m being treated like child.
Ranger sighs audibly. “No one thinks of you as a child, Babe. You . . . “he trails off, thinking. “You’re precious. Precious to the men. Precious to me. My Babe. Their Bombshell. Their CO. They only want what’s best and for you to be safe. You still call the shots on what you want to do and the men don’t argue with you about it. You just have a partner now, someone determined to resolve all threats. I know you love Lula, but Lula is not a partner, Babe.”
I stifle a giggle. “She can shoot. She rides along. She helps me find my skips.”
“You find your own skips, she can’t hit shit and she constantly leaves you stranded in a tight spot, i.e. at the Cop Shop.” I laugh and Ranger looks as if he’s thinking of smiling. “Lula’s got a surprise coming.” I raise an eyebrow and Ranger shakes his head, smiling. “Lula will have to go through the same thing out in San Antonio if she expects to be a bounty hunter out there.”
I look at Ranger, shocked. “Really?”
He nods. “That’s Tank’s home territory now. His patch and Texans are serious about gun rights and gun safety. Lula’s indiscriminate shooting will land her in jail in Texas and it will cost Tank serious political and financial capital to straighten it out.”
“Does she get a choice in the matter?”
“Of course. There’s always a choice, Babe. If she wants to be a bounty hunter, she’ll have to train and work with a RangeMan partner. Tank’s not putting his license and the branch on the line for Lula. Simple as that.”
“That’s not a choice, Ranger.”
Ranger looks at me, clearly bewildered. “How is that not a choice?”
“Lula doesn’t have any other options? What if she wants to be a bounty hunter but not work for RangeMan?” I’m just being difficult now. I don’t like what Ranger is suggesting. It’s pissing me off.
Ranger puts his blank face into place. “Why would she want to work solo?”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to answer to Tank. That can be difficult, working for the man you love. Makes them unequal.”
Ranger is quiet. “Is that your concern for Lula, Babe, or your concern for yourself?”
Both, but I don’t say anything.
Ranger rolls off me and turns on the bedside light. “OK, here’s the deal. Lula can’t just shoot people simply because she’s used to doing it in New Jersey. Texas is not New Jersey. Cops there won’t stand for it. What’re you suggesting, Babe? That she should be able to put all the San Antonio RangeMen at risk simply because she doesn’t want to train? That she should put Tank’s bounty hunter license at risk? Do you want to put my bounty hunter license at risk?”
“I’m not on your license.”
“Yes, you are. The moment we hired you, I had to update the State Police Superintendent of a new employee practicing under my license. You have your own license, but since you work for RangeMan, you also work under my license. State law.” Ranger lifts an eyebrow. “As Vinnie’s employee, you worked under his license. Every time Lula shot at someone just because she could, she put your license and Vinnie’s license at risk. That’s why she will never partner you as long as you work for RangeMan and she’s untrained. I refuse to allow her to put my license at risk. Every RangeMan, across the company, works under my license in each state where we have a presence.”
I’m shocked. I didn’t know that and I don’t like this conversation. I see the parallels. “Is that what you thought of me? That I didn’t do the job right?”
Silence, then, “No, and I’m insulted you’d say that.” He sounds insulted, too. He sounds as if he’s saying that through clenched teeth. I cringe. “You did, you do the job well, Babe. Your apprehension skills needed serious work but even there, you still got the man. All we want is for you to get the man without getting hurt yourself. Nothing more, nothing less.”
I smile. OK. “Lula?”
“More mouth than talent.” I laugh. “Ferocity of a junkyard dog but nothing to back it up. Pair her natural aggressiveness with some actual skill and Lula would be unstoppable.” Ranger grins. “I’m sure Tank’s wondering how he’s going to manage it.”
I look at Ranger and we both laugh. Tank’s doomed.
Ranger’s POV
Is that what Steph thinks? That we want to prevent her from doing what she wants? Shit! Grow the fuck up! We want you to do exactly what you want, but we want you to be able to take down any threat to your safety. We want your independence more than you do, Babe!
It’s been a great week and I’ve really been stunned and thrilled with the changes I see in my Babe, but I’m back to being frustrated and irritated with her. I’ve never understood this childish opposition to basic training that she has. My life is dangerous. Fuck, her life is dangerous! I want her, but I want her to be ready for whatever comes her way. If she can’t accept that, she can go back to being on the sidelines of my life. Nothing more. I’m done.
I’m not opening up to someone who doesn’t care about herself. I choose to do a dangerous job and I care about my life, so I stay in peak physical condition and I train. That’s all I want from Steph. I want her to care about her life enough to safeguard it. After all, if we ever had kids, how would she protect them? Is she prepared to protect our children? Is she prepared to protect Julie, if she had to? Hell, is she prepared to protect Hector?
I think the knowledge that Lula was fucking with her job every time she shot at someone was surprising, and it makes me want to string Vinnie up. How in the hell could he let Steph do the job without making sure she was clear on all the state guidelines? Did Vinnie really teach her nothing about the industry and the state laws? Shit! I thought she knew she was working under my license now. That’s basic. Please tell me I don’t have to go over the basic information about the state laws with her. Steph’s been a bounty hunter for four years. I shouldn’t have to tell her about the laws that govern her profession in this state.
Clearly, I’m taking too much for granted. Every RangeMan in the company knows he works under my license, which is another reason why my men train obsessively. After all the trouble I had to go through to clear up the ‘misunderstanding’ in Vegas, every man in the company knows to ensure that his captures are as clean as possible. Everything needs to be documented. If I question you about it, I should be left in no doubt as to what happened.
Thursday morning, I run along the beach. That conversation really screwed my head. I thought we were past this. I thought she understood. I thought she was ready to make the shift to caring about herself. I pushed myself to talk, and talk a lot, instead of giving one word answers. I pushed past the discomfort to show her my heart. I spoke to her, from my heart, because I know I need to start making the effort. I wanted to leave her this week knowing that she knew that I love her. She knows what I’m saying when I speak from my heart. She understands te amo. I wonder if I should tell her she’s the only woman I’ve ever said that to?
I hope Lester really doesn’t think he’s going to sneak up on me.
“Not gonna happen, primo.”
“Shit!” Les runs alongside me. “Any reason we’re killing ourselves right now?”
“Your psyop is failing and I’m wondering if it’s worth the effort.”
Les stops in his tracks. “What do you mean it’s failing? What happened?”
I repeat last night’s conversation to Les. This is his plan. I want to see him work it because I’m ready to throw in the towel. I’m not having that insane conversation ever again. I love her. I want her to love herself.
Les smiles. “Work it off. She’s testing you. Ella already had the conversation with her.”
I drop to the sand and start some pushups. Gotta keep the heart rate up. Les sighs and drops with me. “Seriously, Les. The attitude to training is really pissing me off. I’m tired of caring for her more than she cares for herself. She fails to see that if she trained and carried her gun, she could do any fucking thing she wanted. The men would back off because they’d know she could handle herself. As it is, yeah, we’re all treating her like a child.” I shake my head just slightly in frustration.
Les looks at me and sighs. “I know. I know how you feel. You talked this week?” I nod. “So you’re making the effort. You’re showing her you love her and you care.” He smirks. “You need to work on your patience with your woman. She already knows she’s close to meeting the physical standards. Some more work on the self-defense and hand-to-hand and she’s cleared. Meanwhile, have you thought about what it’s going to be like to have her in your life?”
I look at Les sharply. Did he and Hector coordinate this? He laughs. “Thought not. You better start giving it some thought. If you want her in your life, the days of being mysterious and keeping her at arms-length are about to end. Find topics you can talk about and work on that. In the meantime, remember that she’s testing boundaries right now. You have four years of shitty statements to make up for.”
I cringe mentally and Les smirks. “Yeah, you can expect more of those ‘testing’ conversations. She’s not sure if she trusts this ‘Road to Damascus’ conversion from you. You’re just going to have to be patient and give her time to accept that you really do want a relationship with her and remember: your opinion still means the world to her. Don’t cut communication with her. She needs you now more than ever. Motivation, not reason.”
Les slaps my back and jogs back to the house, leaving me on the beach to think about it.
I haul my tired ass off the sand and start jogging again. I’m shocked to see Babe behind me. I stop. “Babe.”
“Ranger.” She’s puffing but she’s steady. She doesn’t even stop for me, so I catch up and jog next to her. After 20 minutes, we turn back to the house, where Steph immediately drops and does her pushups. She rests, then flips and does her sit ups.
No coercion on my part. No whining, no sulking. She went jogging, then did her pushups and sit ups. I’m stunned.
OK, maybe I called it wrong last night. She really is making the effort to get stronger, to take herself seriously. So was last night’s conversation about her or Lula? I can’t tell and it’s driving me crazy. Any other woman, I’d call this as an attempt to piss me off, but this is Steph. Trying to predict her behavior is as useful as trying to predict the weather. Yeah, there are patterns to follow, but you could always end up wrong and in need of an umbrella.
Both Hector and Les have said the same thing. I need to start thinking about what it will be like having her in my life. I stop, considering it. Shit! I need to put some thought into it. I have no idea how that’s going to work. Babe’s clearly making the effort. I need to match her. I need to figure out what I’m going to do.
I slide back into the house and start packing. I could actually stay here another week, but I decide to slide back to North Carolina. I think The Cop is close to pulling in another one (The bastard is good at his job, I give him that) and I need to prep the takedown.
I turn and Steph’s watching from the doorway. I smile and raise an eyebrow. She walks in and flops on the bed.
“Les?”
“Gone to the rental.”
I slide my fingers across her belly and pull her close. The kiss is bittersweet.
“Dunno when you’ll see me next. Stay safe. I’m proud of you, Babe.”
Steph smiles. “Back at you, Ranger. Please,” she looks at me, “stay safe,” she whispers.
I kiss her and grab my bags. I head downstairs, toss them in the car, and turn back to the house. Les has returned and Steph appears with her bags. Les and I take them and put them in his rental car. I lock the house, set the security, and turn. Les and Steph are backing out the driveway. Steph locks eyes with me and I watch the car until she disappears from view.
Te amo también Babe.
