As always, no profit is being made by me.

It was sometime around midnight and I couldn't get to sleep. I was just thinking about getting up and popping in my Ghostbuster's DVD when I heard the locks tumble on my front door.

There is only one person who entered my apartment that way - in the middle of the night - without invitation – and without knocking – so I was pretty confident I knew who it was.

I rolled over and there he was, leaning in the doorway of my bedroom. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, his hair was pulled back from his face in a pony tail, and as always, he was dressed in head to toe black.

And, as always - just the sight of him took my breath away.

He'd been actively avoiding me for months so this visit was a bit of a surprise. Not that I was complaining- because Ranger in your bedroom was never cause for complaint – but I could count on one hand the number of times I'd seen him in the past eight months. We'd crossed paths a couple of times at the bonds office when he was dropping off body receipts and I'd seen his Turbo do a cursory drive by the last time one of my cars blew up, but other than that, nothing.

Ever since the one night we'd spent together he'd been putting more and more distance between us. First – he'd be busy or headed to a meeting every time I called – or it would take hours or even days before he'd respond to a text – then he started sending Tank or Hal to rescue me when I was in over my head with a skip instead of coming himself.

The worst part, at least I thought it was the worst part, was when we did happen to be in the same space at the same time I would get only a slight nod or a raised eyebrow in acknowledgement. The smoldering looks that made me literally weak in the knees stopped - the stolen kisses in the alley next to the office stopped, and all those opportunities to touch me that he used to take - they stopped too. I missed that.

I missed him.

But here he was, in my room, in the middle of the night as if nothing had changed between us.

I was at once utterly confused and unbelievably happy at his sudden appearance.

"Hey," I said as he stood there watching me.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

"Had kind of a tough day," I told him. "My brain doesn't seem to want to shut off."

"I heard about Kubler," he said.

Klaus Kubler had been arrested for assault with a bird after he let one of his pet pigeons loose on his ex-wife when she tried to have her monthly alimony payment increased. The bird pecked the shit out of her leg and it had taken twenty eight stitches to sew her up. He'd gone FTA after Vinnie bonded him out and I was the lucky one who got to round him up and haul his ass back to jail.

Of course, as was typical with me, things didn't exactly go according to plan.

Lula went with me for the apprehension and when he readily agreed to go to the station to be re-bonded and even got into my car without having to be restrained, we thought we were about to experience the easiest capture ever.

Turns out you should really be suspicious when your skip is wearing a floor length, bulging trench coat in the middle of July. Or anytime, really.

As soon as I pulled away from the curb in front of his house, he took off the coat and about a dozen pigeons flew into the confined interior of my car. Lula freaked out when one of them latched onto her braids and she leapt from the car, screaming bloody murder, when I slammed on the brakes.

I was trapped is a mass of flapping wings and flying bird shit and when I finally got free from the seatbelt and threw my body outside all I saw was Klaus Kubler running into his house cackling like a lunatic and Lula booking down the street in her four inch heels, screeching and waiving her arms in the air with a pigeon attached to her head.

Another banner apprehension failure for Stephanie Plum, the worst bounty hunter in history.

"I showered twice but I think I still smell like pigeon," I said and I could see the corners of his lips tilt up in the dim light from my bathroom night light.

"You gonna try again?"

I sighed. Of course I was. I'm glutton for punishment. "Yeah, although I'm thinking about making him strip first, just to be safe."

"Well, it's not like you haven't hauled in a naked skip before," Ranger said. This was unfortunately true.

"I have some time tomorrow, if you want help," he offered.

What? He hadn't spoken to me for months and now he's offering assistance? And why did I so desperately want to say yes?

"Oh…that's okay. Thanks for the offer, but I'll work it out."

"Let me know if you change your mind." He reached up and pulled out the tie from his pony tail and his shoulder length hair spilled down and settled around his face. He shook it out and then ran a hand through it. When he let out a long breath, I realized that he looked like he hadn't slept for at least a few nights.

"You okay?" I asked. "You're looking pretty beat."

He gave me a small smile. "Just came off a forty eight hour surveillance job. A Couple of my guys are out with the flu so Tank and I worked doubles." He rubbed his face and I could hear the scraping of his two day beard over the skin.

"Bummer," I said. Was I a great conversationalist or what?

He laughed a little and then moved into my room. He unhooked his utility belt, dropped it on the floor, folded himself into the chair next to my bed and began unlacing his boots.

It really seemed like he was getting ready to get into bed and I was starting to sweat.

"Um….Ranger?

He looked up from his task with his eyebrows raised in question.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm really tired and don't feel like driving home so I'm just going to crash here."

Sure, of course. Don't talk to me for months but then show up and crawl into my bed. That's normal behavior. Of course this is Ranger we're talking about. Nothing about him is normal.

"In my bed?"

That got a full smile out of him and I almost forgot why I was protesting. "I've slept in your bed before, babe."

That was true. He'd slept in my bed several times and he'd also done a lot of other things in my bed – but that was before. Everything was different now – he was different now and I couldn't figure out why he was acting like nothing had changed.

"I can keep my hands to myself, if that's what you're worried about," he said after I didn't respond.

"You've made that very clear," I couldn't stop myself from saying, "but…"

His hands froze in the middle of untying his other boot and he tilted his head to the side as if he was just realizing I might not be happy about the situation. "Do you want me to go?"

Yes. No. Maybe. Jeez! I really just wanted him to tell me what the hell was going on inside his head but that was something Ranger didn't do. Ever.

"No," I said slowly even though I thought it was probably a better idea for him to leave – or at least sleep on the couch.

"Good," he said and pulled off his boots and socks. He stood up and the knife that is usually strapped to his leg was in his hand. He set it on my night stand along with his phone and then pulled the gun from the small of his back and added that to the pile.

He sat down on the bed and then stretched out on his back beside me. True to his word, he kept his hands to himself. He linked them together behind his head and closed his eyes.

Great. Apparently the talking part of the evening was over. I sighed and flipped over on to my back. I listened to his breathing for a long time and just when I thought he had fallen asleep, he spoke again quietly.

"Were you going to tell me about Vince?"

Shit. So that's what this was about.

"I didn't know I was required to tell you anything," I said, my defenses up.

"You're not," he agreed. "I just thought you would."

Yeah right. Ranger is the last person I would want to tell.

"I can't believe he told you," I said.

Ranger let out a short laugh and I turned my head to look at him. He was in the same position, eyes still closed, but there was a small smile playing on his lips.

"He didn't," he said. "He asked my permission first, but he didn't tell me that he actually went through with it."

"What?" I sat up and glared down at him. "Your permission?" He opened his eyes but didn't say anything.

"I'm not your property, Ranger. No one should need to get permission from you for me about anything!"

He smiled that little half smile that was really starting to piss me off. I didn't want him to be amused by me at the moment. "Stop smiling!"

"It's the bro-code. You don't date another's guys ex without asking first. That's just how it works."

"I'm not your ex, Ranger….I'm not your anything."

"Semantics, babe. They all asked, by the way. Vince was just the only one who had the balls to actually do it, apparently."

"What do you mean by 'all'?"

Ranger laughed again. "All my guys, with the exception of Tank, wanted permission to ask you out on a date."

Jesus. I'm such an idiot. They probably had some sort of pool going to see who could get in my pants first.

"That's not true," Ranger said. "There was no bet. I wouldn't have allowed it if there was."

How does he do that? "Stop reading my mind. It's really creepy."

"Sorry," he said. "But you telegraph everything you're thinking. You'd be a horrible poker player."

I sighed and flopped back down beside him.

"They all genuinely like you, Steph. And they enjoy your company. It's not surprising they want to see if there might be more there."

"So your guys asked you for permission to date me and you told them all yes?"

"Except for Lester."

"Damn. Lester is the cutest one."

"Lester is a man-whore, babe."

"Well, maybe I like man-whores." Maybe I really did. Joe was a man-whore. Well, he used to be anyway.

"No you don't," he said.

"This is a disturbing conversation."

We stopped talking for several long moments. I was contemplating all of the merry men wanting to date me and who knows what Ranger was contemplating. Ranger does not telegraph anything.

"Did you have a good time?" he wanted to know.

I didn't even have to think about it. I'd had a great time. Vince is charming and funny and he looks a lot like Bradley Cooper, so that's a bonus. His blue eyes sparkle when he laughs and I found out when he brought me home that he's a pretty terrific kisser.

I'd been as surprised as anyone when he'd asked me. It happened after a distraction job I did at the request of Tank. (Ranger had been mysteriously absent) Vince had taken Ranger's role of snatching the guy as soon as I got him out of the club and I'd tripped and fallen (of course) during the grab and Vince was there to pick me up and dust me off.

He helped me to my car, as I'd broken my heel when I fell, made sure I was all buckled in and then asked me to have dinner with him. I laughed at first and told him he was only asking because he was enthralled with my outfit that stopped just short of being slutty. He seemed a little hurt that I'd think that of him so I'd agreed to the date.

"Yes, I did," I told him.

"You gonna see him again?

I shrugged. "Maybe. Probably."

"Does Morelli know?"

"I don't know. Wait…why would Joe care? We haven't been together for almost a year."

"Doesn't mean he wouldn't care."

I thought about that. "Maybe he would, but really I think he'd just be happy it wasn't you." I glanced at Ranger and his eyes were closed again. But he was smiling.

"Do you care?" I wondered.

He didn't answer for so long that I thought he had dozed off.

"I want you to do what makes you happy," he finally replied.

I decided not to point out that he hadn't answered the question.

"Get some sleep, babe." And then he rolled over on his side, facing away from me, and took his own advice.

It was nearly dawn before I drifted to sleep and when I awoke several hours later, he was gone.