Finger Lickin' Fifteen (Stephanie Plum 15)

“You think I don’t have emotions?”

“I don’t think you very often get embarrassed.”

“It takes a lot,” Ranger said.

“You brought me in to snoop around. Now that you ‘ve found your bad guys, does this mean I’m being terminated?”

Ranger looked at me. “That’s your decision.”

“I think I’ll keep the job for a while longer, but I’ll move out of your bed.”

“That’s the safe way to go,” Ranger said. “But not the most satisfying. The job will get boring.”

“But not your bed?”

“Not if we’re in it together.”

There was no doubt in my mind.

AN HOUR LATER, I was in my father’s cab with Rex on the seat next to me and a small stash of Rangeman uniforms in a bag on the backseat. I was on my way to my parents’ house, but I took a detour and drove past Morelli’s house just for the heck of it. Lights were on in his downstairs windows, and his SUV was parked curbside. I pulled in behind the SUV, went to Morelli’s door, and knocked.

Morelli grinned when he saw me. “Couldn’t resist my charms?”

“Couldn’t resist your television. My father’s going to be watching baseball, and the Rangers are playing the Devils tonight.”

“I’m all set,” Morelli said. “I’ve got chips and dip and beer.”

I ran back to the cab and got Rex’s cage. Rex wouldn’t want to miss the Rangers playing, and he loved chips.

I put Rex on the coffee table, and I settled in on the couch, next to Bob.

“Have you heard anything about Joyce?”

“She’s going to be okay.”

“And what about the guy who owns the sauce company and hired Marco to whack Chipotle?”

Morelli scooped some dip onto a chip and fed it to me. He had to reach over Bob to do it. “They’re looking for him, but haven’t found him so far. He’s probably in Venezuela.”

“That was pretty scary at the cook-off. It took a lot of guts for Lula to punch that guy.”

“I’m more impressed with the fart.”

“Men.”

“Hey, what can I say, men like farts.”

I told him about finding the break-in guy and his friend, Morelli fed me another chip, and I drank some of his beer.

“Look at us,” I said to Morelli. “We aren’t arguing.”

“That’s because the game hasn’t started,” Morelli said. “Maybe we shouldn’t watch the game. Maybe we should do something else. Are you still off men?”

“I think I’m off and on.”

Morelli grinned at me. “Which night is this? Off or on?”

I smiled back at him. “There are some things a man should find out for himself.”