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

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Chapter 2

Megan POV

Holy crap, what did I just do?

Seriously. All I had to do was say "no," but freaking "okay" came out instead. Idiot.

My phone pings a message and I use the hands free to have the car read it to me.

Did you agree to go out on a date with Lester?

God Bless Steph for double checking. It's only ten more minutes to guys' office and an answer can wait until then. I might actually have a decent one by then. Traffic is light in deference to it being Saturday morning, and I'm sure the cold front doesn't help. If I were smart, I would have stayed hunkered down at home, but I wanted to check in on Steph and see with my own eyes that she was ok. I know she was stressing about fully melding Ranger into her life, but she seems fine this morning. Better than fine. And I'm more than a little jealous that she has the guts to put herself back out there, especially with the guy that hurt her so deeply. I'm not sure I could do it.

Parking at the curb in front of Eagle Investigations, my heart does the little squeeze that it always does. Eagle was my brother's call sign, and naming their company after him was Ryan's way of keeping his memory alive. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I wasn't the only one to lose a brother. Greenwood and Griffin, bunk mates and partners throughout their time in the service. Ryan, and later Jake, were constants in our life from the time Matt had his first R and R visit home. The Three Musketeers, we called them. And then there were only two until they made space for me. Now we're four, with the Jenkins Group. Hard to say if things will change with Ranger in the picture and Ryan getting serious about his girlfriend.

Grabbing my phone, I text Steph back. Yes. Temporary insanity. Talk me out of it.

Those three annoying dots pulse, and I wait for her answer, hoping it comes before the cold chases me into the building. She knows that Lester Santos, with his quick smile, smart ass ways, and dimple, ticks most of my happy boxes, but between the "he was only looking for casual" and the turning on Steph thing, it wasn't something I was going to pursue. So why the hell am I sitting here trying to figure out what to wear tonight?

Not talking you out of it because I'm too busy listening to him beg for date ideas. Any direction you want me to steer him?

I think about that for a minute. It's supposed to be slightly warmer by tonight after the wind dies down, but 'warmer' doesn't mean much in late February. I bite my lip before typing back. Somewhere jeans are ok. It's too cold for a dress and strappy shoes.

I get a thumbs up, and trust that Steph will help him come up with something.

Pulling my coat tight around myself, I toss my phone in my purse and make a run for the door. I can hear the tv going down the hall and walk to Ryan's office. He looks up from whatever he's jotting down on a legal pad and watches me drop into the chair in front of his desk.

"I did something stupid."

His eyes narrow. "Well, you're sitting here, so you don't need bail money."

He laughs when I flip him the middle finger and slouch down in the seat. Sadly, the ceiling doesn't reveal the answers of the universe.

"Spill it, KitKat."

That tugs a smile out of me. I have a bag of Peach Parfait flavored ones I found at an Asian grocery store, some Pumpkin Pie flavored ones from Target, and a Fruity Cereal one from the gas station check-out waiting for me at home. With those, I'll be up to 23 flavors acquired and tried.

"I have a date tonight."

"Not normal for you, but I'm not seeing the stupid part."

"With Lester Santos from Rangeman."

Ryan, the ass, struggles not to smile before giving up and laughing. "He finally wore you down?"

"Shut up. I don't know what I was thinking when I said yes."

He leans back and gives me that 'big brother look', the one that makes you feel loved and a little stupid all at the same time. It's one that he's perfected since we lost Matt; he took the promise he made my brother to look after me and my mom seriously.

"Maybe you thought that it was time to get out there again. You haven't really dated anyone since the x-ray guy last year. What was his name? Alfred? Alastair? Alphonso?"

I grit out Alden between clenched teeth. He knows good and well what his name was, since he and Jake invited themselves to lunch with us one day. They did their silent and menacing routine before starting in on questions that lasted until Alden had to head back to work. Didn't hear a peep from the guy after that.

"If you two show up to dinner tonight, I will shoot you and then show Jennifer the pictures Matt sent me from Jamaica."

His face goes carefully blank before he says, "Fine. I don't think we would intimidate Santos, anyway. If Matt were here, he'd meet his pansy Army ass with his service rifle just for the fun of it and threaten his balls if he makes you cry. I can go that route, if you want."

"Please don't. Besides, I'm meeting him somewhere."

Ryan assesses me for an uncomfortably long time. "You like this one but don't want to."

I blow out a long breath. "He used to have a player rep, according to Steph, but she admits she doesn't really know him anymore. Look how much she's changed in a year."

He nods at that. "And?"

"And he walked away from her. Just cleanly cut her out of his life like she didn't exist just because Ranger told him to. How do I trust someone that can do that?"

Ryan taps his pen on the desk. "Following orders is a tricky thing. It becomes second nature, and you don't even think about it. Do you think he's likely to do it again?"

All I can do is shrug. I don't know him really at all, just the bits I learned here and there while we worked the case. I liked what I saw, but all that means is that I saw what he wanted me to see. Steph has said he's apologized a couple times, and I know she's working on getting past the hurt and mistrust.

We sit looking at each other. Until Steph came into my life, Ryan was my sounding board. I know I can trust him to not sugarcoat things or steer me one way or another. Right now, I wish he'd tell me what to do.

"What do you like about him?"

I can't help myself. "Well, he's hot and his ass—"

"Jesus, KitKat. I don't need to know that!"

Laughing makes me feel a little better. "He's funny and sarcastic, but you can tell there's real intelligence there. He's not afraid to admit that he made a mistake and he's trying to fix it. I think he learns from those mistakes."

"So go on the date, and if you're not feeling it, then you'll know."

My phone beeps with a message from an unknown number. Winterfest, 7pm. Meet at Steph's house at 6:30 and then drive over? Was able to get a warming cabin reservation for 8pm.

The date has Steph's fingerprints all over it; props to Lester for asking her for help to know what I'd like. Ice skating, food trucks, and hanging out in front of the fire are three of my favorite things. By the time I'm done messaging back a thumbs up and entering Lester's number, Ryan is smirking at me. "I take it you're going on the date, after all?"

"He was able to get a warming cabin at Winterfest."

"Nice. Two points to Santos for enlisting Jersey for the planning."

With an eye roll, I push myself up out of the chair. "It's just a date. No need to get excited over it."

"Says the woman heading home to obsess over what to wear."

I don't dignify that with an answer, just a middle finger over my shoulder as I head out. The sound of his laughter follows me to the door as I make another run for my car and head home.

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"This is going to be a disaster. I can feel it."

Steph meets my eyes in the mirror as I get ready in her second-floor bathroom. The soothing aqua tones are doing nothing for me as I swipe on a bit of eyeliner and mascara. The wind has died down, making me a little more comfortable that my eyes won't turn into raccoon tributes by the end of the night. In deference to wearing an ear warmer, Steph helped me pull my hair into loose braids on the sides and twisted everything into a bun at my neck. It looks artfully messy, rather than just my normal messy, and will keep my hair contained should any wind gusts blow through.

"Stop stressing. What did you tell me when I went to dinner with Ranger in Atlantic City?"

"Take things as they come and to call if you needed an exit strategy."

I blow out a breath. Why did I agree to this? Because you like him, dumbass.

The doorbell rings and Steph leaves to answer it while I change into flannel-lined jeans, a navy cable sweater, and brown knee-high boots. With the navy wool pea coat I brought, I'll be warm enough outside, but comfortable in the warming cabin. The boots have a 3-inch heel, but it should be ok for walking around; I hate being so short. I fold up the sweats I arrived in and toss them into the duffel bag I keep in the closet here for emergencies.

Coming down the stairs, I see Steph standing in the kitchen, quietly talking with Lester. She looks serious, and he looks a little freaked out, making me wonder what she's saying. I make enough noise on the last step to draw their attention and Les swallows thickly before giving me a lady-killer smile.

"Ready?"

He extends a hand to me, but I'm still busy giving Steph the side-eye. Her smile is innocent, and that's all I need to know. "You talked to Ryan, didn't you?"

She shrugs but doesn't deny it. Great. Instead of getting mad, I let myself be amused by the idea of her threatening Lester. Ignoring his outstretched hand and the butterflies in my stomach, I put on my coat. Lester does the same, and I do my best to not threaten Steph as she hides a smile at the blush that appears on my face when he puts his hand at the small of my back for the walk to the door. That zing I felt means nothing. Really.

We make small talk on the way to the Penn's Landing area south of Fishtown, and I direct him to the parking area. Lester's fun to talk to, easily making jokes or answering honestly if it's a serious question. His hand is steady on my back as we walk to the rink, taking in the food trucks, enormous tree, and overhead lights. I try to come down here at least once in both summer and winter, but we've had a busy winter so far.

As we get close, I ask, "Do you skate?"

His face is strangely devoid of expression. "Sure."

I'm not sure how to take that. I steer us over to the skate rental counter, wishing I would have thought to bring my own.

"Size six, please."

The attendant looks at Lester, he finally answers, "Twelve."

Lester pays for the skates, and we find an empty bench to swap out our boots for the skates. He's moving a lot slower, so I grab our boots and head back to the counter. After watching the attendant place them in a numbered bin and accepting the claim ticket, I head back and find Lester eyeing the rink warily.

I glide out onto the ice and turn and wait for him. He confidently steps out on the ice… and promptly falters, grabbing the wall for support to stay upright. He recovers and gives me a charming smile before smoothly skating to me. We skate in starts and stops near the wall. Halfway around the rink, I turn and skate backwards in front of him. "You really don't know how to skate, do you?"

"Not really."

"Do you want me to grab you a skate trainer?"

We both watch a little boy skate by, using one of the bright blue plastic apparatuses in front of him for balance.

He grimaces. "I'll take my chances."

"Not a badass look?"

He laughs. "Not even close."

I have to smile at that, and we slowly make our way around the rink twice. Lester's finally getting the hang of it and is confident enough to venture a few feet away from the wall. We're skating side by side, laughing at everything and nothing when a tiny little girl wearing the cutest sparkly pink tutu over leggings cuts in front of us, causing Lester to try an immediate stop. He wobbles and I reflexively try to grab his arm. It's a comedy of errors and flailing arms before he hits the ice hard on his back with me splayed out on top of him, our bodies aligned and mouths entirely too close together.

A long minute goes by as people skate around us. We're lost in the moment until someone whistles and skates by with a "boom chicka wow wow!" before breaking into laughter. My cheeks are red, and not from the wind. If I'm not mistaken, Lester is sporting a similar blush. Interesting. Gently disentangling myself from him while being careful not to knee him in the balls probably takes more time than it should, but neither of us is complaining.

Once separated, we share a laugh before I help him up. It's almost our time for a warming cabin, so we skate back to the entrance of the rink and exchange the skates for our boots. Walking through the food vendors, we joke about turkey legs but settle for cheesesteaks. Once we have them, and large covered cups of hot chocolate, we make our way over to the warming cabins. Les shows them a barcode on his phone. Once scanned, we're directed to cabin #2. Cabin is a bit of misleading; they're basically large stalls, open on the front side. Inside each one is a couch, chairs, a lit tree, and an electric fireplace turned up high. They're cozy and warm… and also intimate and romantic. Being without the fourth wall, and visible to the skaters and people eating at the fire pits, keeps things from feeling too intimate.

We lay our dinner out on the small coffee table and tuck in. Not as good as Geno's or Pat's, but then again, nothing is. Conversation is light, sticking mostly to work stories. After the food is gone, we sink back into the couch, facing one another as we continue talking. I'm more comfortable with him than I want to admit, and it's messing with my head. Steph told me to form my own opinion of him, but the way he abandoned her is never far from my thoughts. Truth be told, him being so charming and easy to like is pissing me off. He was supposed to be an asshole that I could easily walk away from.

I occasionally see him looking at the scar on my hand, but he doesn't ask about it. Most people don't. It makes me wonder if he has his own scars with their own stories. Probably. He's like Ryan and Jake, and even Matt, in many ways. Soldiers, especially those that served in Spec Ops, are a rare breed. You'll only know what they want you to know, what you're allowed to know. I'm not sure that's something Steph really gets about Ranger, but that's for them to figure out.

"Did you grow up skating?"

"Yeah. Like a lot of girls, I had dreams of skating in the Olympics. Not a winter sport fan?"

He lets out a chuckle. "The only winter sport in my neighborhood was running from the gangs and not breaking your neck on the ice packed sidewalks."

"What about summer sports, then?"

He shrugs. "Basketball at the rec center. A lot of swimming at the beach in the summer. What did you do in the Olympic dream offseason?"

"Softball, community swim team, a lot of reading."

He smiles, and we're off and running, discussing books and authors. By the end of our time in the warming cabin, I have more than a little crush on Lester Santos and it's disappointing that I can't let it go anywhere. It would put Steph in too awkward of a position if things took a nosedive. I'm not too sure about dating someone that we might work with, either.

After our time in the warming cabin is up, we move to a fire pit and buy some s'mores kits. I don't want to admit that this is one of the best dates that I've been on in a long time. He's funny, self-deprecating and doesn't try to take over everything. He's making it hard to dislike him. When we've gorged ourselves on chocolate and marshmallows, we vacate our spot and start heading back to the car. Conversation hasn't lagged, but that end of date awkwardness is settling in.

In his SUV with the heater running to warm up our cold toes, he asks if I want to go anywhere else. Part of me, the impulsive part that used to exist and occasionally pokes its head out like when I stopped to talk to Steph on the beach and invited her for pizza, wants to throw caution to the wind and say yes. The responsible and reserved part of me that remembers the nights of curling up next to Steph while she sobbed for everything she lost until she passed out from sheer exhaustion says, "Don't get too close."

The scar tissue on my hand throbs a little from the cold, another reminder to be wary. I considered Cory a nuisance, but never an actual threat. The fallout of that wasn't just the scars, it was the fear of ever getting close enough to someone that I worked with, or could work with, that turning them down could put me in danger. It's an irrational fear, since Steph's life proved that stalkers come from everywhere, but it's a rule that I've clung to until now.

It's almost a relief when he pulls in behind my car in front of Steph's house. We'll say goodbye here, because there is no way in hell that I'm interrupting Steph and Ranger's night; I'll see them tomorrow night, anyway.

"I had fun tonight."

"Me, too. Thanks for taking me skating even though it's not your thing." I try and keep my voice light. I really did have a good time, despite myself.

"It could become my thing! I didn't do too bad." He's laughing by the end but becomes serious. "I'd like to take you out again."

I was afraid of that. It's on the tip of my tongue to say yes, but I say, "That's not a good idea."

His face mirrors the confusion my head is feeling. "Why?"

"I just don't want things to get messy or put Steph in the middle. I think it's best we just do the friend thing, and I try not to date people I might work with. It's just a thing." It's just a thing? I sound like a freaking idiot.

"Why do you assume things will get messy?"

"Life. Thanks for tonight."

With that, I hop out of his SUV and hightail it like a chicken over to my car, unlocking the doors on the move. Once I'm locked inside, I make the mistake of sneaking a peek in the rearview mirror. He's gotten out of his SUV and is standing by the open door, eyebrows hiked high while he watches me drive away like the hounds of hell are after me. Great job, Megan. You just treated him like a stalker freak you had to get away from. Have I mentioned I'm an idiot?