Turbo Twenty-Three (Stephanie Plum 23)

“Morelli.”

Ranger smiled at that.

I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

“Babe, he’s been stringing you along since you were five years old. You’re no closer to marriage with him than you were in kindergarten.”

“We might be engaged to be engaged.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Sort of. “We just don’t talk about it a lot.”

In fact, we didn’t talk about it ever. He avoided dinner with my parents so he didn’t have to talk about it. The subject never came up between us. Not even during intimate moments. Plus, there was the billiard table. Initially I thought he was saving his money to buy me a ring, but he bought the table with the money. Face facts, Stephanie, when a man is thinking about marriage and starting a family he doesn’t replace his dining-room table with a billiard table. Besides, I don’t even like billiards.

“Sonovabitch!” I said.

Ranger gave me a slightly raised eyebrow. “You’ve had an epiphany?”

Ordinarily an unpleasant piece of news would send me to 7-Eleven to load up on Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and pints of Häagen-Dazs. 7-Eleven wasn’t immediately available to me but I had Ranger. And Ranger was the mother of all delicious, self-indulgent treats. A peanut butter cup was chump change compared to the possibility of sinking my teeth into Ranger. Not that I would do any real damage, but the temptation was getting stronger by the minute. I mean, what the hell, I was at Disney. I was one step away from the magic kingdom. This wasn’t the time to hold back on what might turn out to be the happiest experience of the day. In the interest of mental health, I needed to do this.

“Babe,” Ranger said. “Your eyes are dilated. Are you all right?”

I was better than all right. I was Tinkerbell, and I was about to uncork the bottle and release the Ranger genie. Ranger is an alpha male. Leader of the pack. Always. In the bedroom he sets the pace. There’s never an awkward moment because he’s focused on the prize, the pleasure, the human experience. He knows where to touch. He knows when to ask the question. He’s strong and hard where it counts. He’s smart. He’s patient. He’s magic. In short, he assumes the decision burden that I was currently very relieved to give up. Again, in the interest of mental health.

“Bring it on,” I said to him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

• • •

I showered and got dressed in my new Tinker Bell T-shirt and panties. They were fun but anticlimactic after the night with Ranger.

“Are you coming to breakfast with me?” I asked him. “Goofy might be there.”

“Going to pass. I’ll have something sent up.”

“You’ll be sorry. You’re going to miss the Mickey Mouse waffles.”

He stopped scrolling through emails on his phone and looked over at me. “I like the shirt.”

“That’s nothing,” I said. “Look at this.”

I unzipped my jeans and flashed him a look at the panties.

He stood and slipped his phone into his pocket. “The car is picking us up at eight o’clock.”

I looked at him in his black fatigues. “Are you really commando?”

“Only one way to find out, babe. How bad do you want those waffles?”

• • •

It was early afternoon when I rolled into the bonds office.

“Good shirt,” Connie said, looking up from her computer. “I’ve always admired Tinker Bell.”

“I like the way she leaves a trail of fairy dust when she flits around,” Lula said, “but I think she’s self-absorbed. And she needs to control that jealous streak.”

“Vinnie is making noise about Kwan,” Connie said. “He’s a high bond, and Vinnie is worried he’s going to jump.”