All recognizable characters belong to Janet Evanovich, I'm just playing.

A/N: A nine-chapter story that includes both the April dialogue prompt from the Janet Evanovich Fan Fiction Facebook group, and a requested storyline from Peritales in the same group, asking what lines would Steph cross to keep Ranger safe? The title comes from the song of the same name by Taylor Swift. It really should say Don't blame me/love makes me crazy.

Don't Blame Me

Chapter 1

SPOV

Some days, it just feels like everything can and will go wrong. Today is one of those days. I woke up to tell-tale cramps hitting low on my abdomen. The hot water in my shower lasted just shy of five minutes. I was out of coffee. It's barely 9am, but The Tasty Pastry is already out of Boston Cream and just about any other edible donuts. All little things in and of themselves, but added together? Not a good way to start a Monday, and it doesn't seem like it's going to get any better when I pull up outside of Vinnie's. Ranger's sleek Porsche 911 is parked at the curb. He doesn't come to the bonds office much anymore, but lately he's been retrieving the super high bonds and the super shitty Stark Street ones I'm happy to hand over. Not that I mind, per se; I love getting to see him for even five minutes. It's just that we're in a weird no-man's land (literally in my case!) and I'm not really sure what to do about it.

It all started about two months ago. Joe and I had another one of our stupid fights; he yelled, I yelled and that was that. I declared war, stormed out, and gave him the cold shoulder the next time I saw him at the police station. It was our usual dance, but this time I realized I wasn't eager to go back. I didn't feel jealous at the idea of him with someone else, nor was I holding out hope that he'd come by my apartment with a meatball sub as a peace offering. The fight started when I told him to do his own laundry. His face turned red and then he pointed out that I'd be the one to do the laundry if I ever actually moved in, because taking on more of the household shit would make up for the uneven income I pulled in from working for Vinne and therefore what I could contribute to the household. He'd moved past the stay home and have kids argument but was still stuck in the I make the decisions because I've got the dick mindset. By the time I stormed out, he'd insulted my job, my friends, and even Grandma Mazur. Like he has room to talk when it comes to crazy grandmothers!

So, he was the one who was going to have to extend the olive branch. Not that I actually wanted that anymore. In the two months we've been apart, I've pulled in all my low bonds, several mid-level skips, and even a couple biggies, giving me a nice fat nest egg and no reason to settle for washing the tighty whities of someone who thought nothing of diminishing my contributions just because I didn't have a set yearly salary. Point of fact, one of those biggies netted me $50,000 so if I get a few more mid and higher bonds this year, I might even out earn him. I'd love to see his head explode over that!

And that mess led to the weirdness with Ranger. He's always supported me, even if he did have his caveman moments when it came to my safety. The first week I was single, we didn't hesitate to fall into bed. It's something that tends to happen whenever Joe and I are on the outs, but outside of bed, Ranger was a little more direct in his comments this time. Joe and I do have a bad habit of being off and on to the point that sometimes it was hard to remember if we were together or not. Aside from his observation at Disneyworld that Joe's been stringing me along since we were kids, he generally holds his own counsel. That's why it took me by surprise when he quietly uttered, "You deserve better, Babe. Someone who supports you." It got to me. He's always been my biggest supporter, but also the one to tell me that Joe could give me what I need. It's a push-pull that's confusing as all get out.

After that, he put a little distance between us, even if you can't tell on the surface. He still helps when I ask, which I try not to do too often. He still pulls me into help cover the search desk at Rangeman but makes himself scarce while I'm there. He still seeks me out when he comes to pick up his skip files and kisses the shit out of me in the alley. But other than one fantastic night, there have been no more sleepovers. He says he's too busy, and it's entirely possible that's true; the man is a workaholic and takes pride in the company he's built.

Conceding that sitting in my current POS isn't going to make my day any better, I angle my legs out of the car. It doesn't surprise me that Ranger has moved like smoke and is standing on the sidewalk, waiting for me. No words are spoken as he leads me to our alley, and I don't even offer up a token resistance when he gently pushes me against the wall and anchors me there with his hips. This kiss is hot and brain fogging, made even better because there's no guilt over it. None. Normally, Joe would be in the back of my mind even when we were off, but after a simple gut-check, nope. That realization may have made me a little bolder in my response and based on the groan Ranger releases from the back of his throat and the way his hips do an involuntary thrust against mine, he doesn't mind me being a little more aggressive than normal. When his hands slide down over my ass and squeeze, I'd say he doesn't mind. At all.

Too soon, he's backing off, placing little kisses down the column of my neck. It's no less pleasurable and I'm still floating and on my way to happyland when I realize that he's trying to talk to me. Looking at him, he's got that smirk he gets when he knows he's got me right where he wants me. I'd be pissy about it, but I like being where he wants me, so why quibble over that caveman quirk when it usually ends well for me?

"You back with me yet, Babe?"

With a deep breath and a sigh at knowing that all this touching and kissing is, unfortunately, not going to end with me having a social orgasm right now, I snark out, "Yeah. Thanks for the tease, Batman."

His blank face immediately slams down, and I feel like shit as he lets my legs go and backs away from me after making sure I have my footing. I didn't mean that how it came out. Or maybe I do, and just don't want to admit it.

"Sorry. Just been one of those days."

"Same."

His lips quirk up a bit at my confused look. "Didn't think Batman had bad days."

And the half smile is gone. "Not a superhero, Steph. Just a man."

I snort. Ranger will never be just anything, let alone a mere mortal. Not even Scrog and his six bullets could keep him down. "I'm sorry you're having a crap day. You need any help with searches?"

He tucks a wayward curl behind my ear. "We always need help with searches. You have any skips you need help with?"

"Don't know yet."

He accepts that before asking, "Are you free for dinner?"

For a moment, he looks vulnerable, but I'm sure it's just a trick my eyes are playing on me. It's the first overture that he's made that doesn't seem tied to work and I'm afraid to look at it too closely. Hedging my bets, I put a smile on my face before answering, "I never turn down Ella food!"

Something flashes in his eyes before it's gone again. He backs further away from me, telling me that dinner will be at 6:30. Before I can think too hard on what just happened, he's gone from the alley and I hear the throaty growl of the Porsche engine as he pulls away. I feel like I just missed something important and need a road map to find it and Cliff Notes to understand it.

Connie has a small stack of skips for me, mostly low bonds with a medium one mixed in. The universe is still toying with me, and by the time I've brought two of the low bonds in, I'm covered in spaghetti and have torn out the knee of my jeans. Lula's in a mood, and I need a break. I never thought I'd say it, but my mom calling and asking me to come over for lunch so I could talk my grandmother out of some crazy scheme is a godsend.

Waving off Lula and Connie, I drag my ass to my car and motor over to my childhood home.

The closer I get to my parents' house, the less I'm sure I want to actually go inside. It's been a crazy day already and maternal guilt isn't something I'm up for today. Even though Grandma's zaniness predates my employment with Vinnie, my mother is convinced that my job is to blame. Mom and I have a weird relationship; she means well with her match-up attempts, but they never quite turn out like she hopes. I know she wants me happy; we just have different ideas about how to get there. I want a partner; she wants a warm body to take care of me and end my days as a scandalous divorcee. It's not that I need her help, anyway. For the last few years, I've had two men in my life and sometimes it's felt like two men too many. Definitely one too many when it's felt like I've needed to make a choice. I guess now that Joe's out of the picture again, I don't need to decide anything. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it should bother me, but instead it feels a little like relief. Now, if I only knew what to do about loving a man that doesn't do relationships.

I'm startled from my musing by a knock on the window. Once I'm done screeching and start to calm down, I look over and see my grandmother staring at me. If he were here, Ranger would be doing that little smirk and telling me that I needed to be more aware of my surroundings. He's not here, though, and Grandma asks, "Are you coming inside or are you just going to sit here all day? I got things to do."

Mom has roast beef sandwiches and potato salad ready for us. She pours some tea and asks about my day, deliberately avoiding looking at the spaghetti in my hair. After we've eaten, and I've convinced Grandma that she and her friends going to a male revue in Newark would be a bad idea, Mom reminds me that I still have some clean clothes upstairs from the last time my apartment was firebombed, and I stayed here. Grateful for both the clean clothes and the escape from Grandma's story about getting up on stage to sit on a dancer's lap the last time she and her "crew" hit the strip show, I trudge upstairs. Once there, I figure a shower won't hurt and stand under the hot water, feeling a little bit of the day's stress wash away. Maybe while I have a nest egg, I should find an apartment or condo where the hot water heater is functional for more than five minutes.

When I'm a prune, I climb out and hurry across the hall to what used to be my old room. Grandma Mazur lives in Val's old room, and mine became a combination guest and sewing room. A partially completed quit is lying on the bed, waiting to be finished. Probably just as well, if the bed were clear I'd be tempted to climb in and take a nap.

Back downstairs, Mom and Grandma start talking about the scandal of Mary Legaski leaving her husband for the guy that does mobile appliance repair and how his business is going to dry up if husbands think that he's a wife stealer being invited right into their homes. Whatever. Jimmy Legaski doesn't exactly honor his wedding vows, and everyone knows it. He's not a nice guy, either. Mary probably should have left him before trading up, but still. Can't fault her wanting to get away from Jimmy.

I'm not even paying attention when they move on to who all has the Polish National Assembly Hall booked for weddings and retirement receptions. Thinking back to Ranger at the bonds office earlier, I'm a bit confused. What was that look when I joked about Ella's cooking? Or the one when I joked about Batman never having a bad day? I'm still stewing over Ranger being a solid presence in my work life but a fleeting one in my bed when Grandma snaps her fingers in front of my face. "You with us?"

Shaking my head, I ask, "What did I miss?"

My mother clears her throat. "We were just wondering when you and Joseph were getting back together. You two aren't getting any younger and we should book the church and hall sooner rather than later—"

"I think that Joe and I are done. Permanently."

Mom shakes her head. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course, you're getting back together. You never really break up; you just take a break here and there. You probably both still have stuff at each other's houses."

Is this what people think each time we break up? That it's just a matter of time before we get back together? Is that why Ranger's keeping his distance, waiting for me to go back to Joe? That makes me think about what Ranger said, that I deserved better. I deserved someone who supports me in the way I need. I want someone like him. I'd prefer him, but I'm not sure that's in the cards. I know I don't want Joe, a burg wedding, and the neighbors gossiping about me for the rest of my life, wondering what's going on when a repairman shows up.

My mom's only sort of right. Joe's never kept many things at my house and I'm pretty good at taking back my stuff when we hit an off phase. Honestly, I probably have more things in Ranger's closet and under his sink than I do at Joe's. I'm about to mentally trash anything left at his place when I remember that I left a gold necklace from my Grandmother Plum at his place when I stayed the night over there after the wedding of one of his many cousins. As far as I can remember, that's the only thing that would bother me to leave behind. The rest is just toiletries and maybe some clothes that got tossed into his hamper. I can live without those, but not the necklace.

Standing up, I turn to my mom, who's looking at me expectantly. "I have no plans to get back together with Joe. I have something I need to take care of real quick. I'll be back in a half an hour."

Without giving her a chance to respond, I head out the back door and make my way two blocks over to Slater Street and Joe's house. Bob must have heard the key in the lock, because he greets me exuberantly, with slobbery Bob kisses and doggy breath. After checking to make sure he has food and water, I trudge up the stairs to Joe's room and start looking around. We were in a good place the night of the wedding, and clothes went flying when we got back here. After some investigating, I finally find my necklace on the floor between the nightstand and bed. In my search, I also find and earring that doesn't belong to me and a La Perla lacy thong that I would never be able to afford. Leaving those things where I found them, I scoot back away from the bed, reminding myself that it doesn't matter, because we're not together anymore and probably won't be again. The fact that there's no burning in my belly tells me that it's true this time.

Bob, having given up on me entertaining him, starts barking downstairs. I freeze for a minute when I hear the front door open and close and then Joe greeting the dog we're supposed to share. Shit. I didn't want to see him. It's not really trespassing since I have a key, but I'd be pissed if I came home and found him on my couch two months after we broke up. Leaving the key on the table on my way out the door and letting him know I was here doesn't seem like a good idea now. I'm debating about what to do when the back door opens, and more footsteps move through the house. Bob's bark is more of a growl, and I wonder who the hell came in, especially after Joe says, "What the fuck are you doing here? Get out."

Oh shit. That can't be good.