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

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Chapter 3

LPOV

What the fuck just happened?

Watching Megan's taillights disappear around the corner, I'm struck dumb by how clueless I feel. By the third time I've played the night over in my head, I've got frozen balls and I'm no closer to figuring out what went wrong. Climbing back into my SUV, I cast a wary glance at Steph's house. Ranger's house too, now, I guess. I really want to go knock on the door and pick Steph's brain, but she told me in no uncertain terms that she'd try out a few of her new kitchen tools on me, specifically the vegetable peeler, if I made her friend cry. I don't know if she's crying but running off says she didn't enjoy the date.

I'd chance it, but Ranger was very clear that they had plans for tonight and not to fuck things up. I'd bet $100 he had the same thoughts about the couch I did and they're field testing it. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part. Shaking my head to jar that image loose before it gets me killed, I pull out my phone and type in Whatever I did that made you run, I'm sorry and hit send.

Putting the truck in drive heading back to the new building is anticlimactic. I went from probably the best date I've ever been on to lost and confused in Loserville.

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By the time I parked the SUV back in the Rangeman garage, Megan had texted. It sounds lame, but it really is me, not you. I'm sorry. It did sound lame, and everyone knows that when you say that, it really is you that is the problem.

After a night of tossing and turning, I feel like shit. I'm hitting the bag when Ranger lets himself into the gym. I'm not sure why he's here; he has a basic gym in his new basement. Without a word, he steps up to steady the bag while I continue throwing combinations. It's eerily similar to the night that Mary Alice asked me for help, except this time he doesn't stop me. Probably because I'm actually being smart and wearing gloves this time. By the end of an hour, my arms are heavy, and my breathing is labored. We still haven't said a word between us.

When I collapse on the bench by the locker, he breaks off and grabs us some sports drinks from the fridge that Gene stocked early this morning. We still need to find ourselves a Philly Ella, so we've all been pitching in where it needs it. Zero, Woody, Radar, Gene, and Whistler have come over from the Trenton office to get things running. So far, it's still just some a couple corporate gigs, but once we're fully running, we're going to need more guys.

I grunt out a thanks as I twist the lid off the bottle and drink. "Did you talk to Steph about contracting our background checks out to her?"

"It's on my list of things to do today."

I drain down the last of my drink. "Why are you here today, then?"

"Stephanie got a call at 7am and took off to Megan's house. I'm here to see if I need to get you out of town or hold you down for her."

"Your guess is as good as mine."

He gives me that 'cut the shit' look meant to make grown men want to break down and spill their guts like they've overdosed on syrup of ipecac. It might have worked if I had anything to say.

"Seriously. We had what I thought was an excellent date and then she's suddenly saying this will get too messy and running for her car. Then she followed it up with the classic 'it's not you, it's me' in a text. I thought… I don't know what I thought."

He says nothing, just sips his drink. When I offer nothing else, he asks if I want to spar. Might as well. We circle each other and my agitation grows. That, and a lack of sleep, are the only reasons I can come up with for the words that pop out of my mouth.

"How was breaking in the couch?"

I expected, and deserved, the hit, but even I'm surprised to find myself looking up at the ceiling from my spot on the floor. I rolled to get up but decide to heed his "You should just stay there," warning. Flopping back down on my back, I rub my suddenly aching head. Fuck. I need to remember that he no longer has a sense of humor when it comes to Steph. Not that what I said was funny, but still.

"Maybe you said something stupid like that?"

"Nope. I was on my best behavior. Things were good until I asked if she wanted to go out again."

"You losing your charm, Primo?"

I snort. "Fuck you, cuz. Things were great. I asked for a second date, and she ran like I was seconds away from whipping out a machete."

He has nothing to say to that and we switch to Rangeman business and shoot the shit for another hour. There's a light tap on the door before Steph sticks her head in. "I was told I'd find you two down here."

I haven't moved from the floor yet, unwilling to expend the energy. "You here to kill me with your vegetable peeler?"

"No, smartass. I'm here to grab Ranger to take him to brunch. Do you want me to kill you with my vegetable peeler?"

"I'd prefer not, just wasn't sure which way the wind was blowing today." I drop my head back to the mat, contemplating a nap right here. My eyes pop back open when I don't hear them leave. Since she's still here, I ask "Is Megan ok?"

Steph's lips turn down as she studies me. "She realized she left a little abruptly and feels bad about it."

What do I say to that? "It's fine. Look, tell Megan that she doesn't have to worry about me. I'm not going to turn all stalkery and push her for something she doesn't want."

It's hard to read the expression on Steph's face and it's just further proof that I have no freaking clue how to read a woman outside of a bar. Someone needs to hold a freaking Ted Talk about understanding women and all the seemingly normal things they say that have completely different meanings.

Putting it out of my head, I get up and grab my towel, intending to head upstairs to shower. Steph's hand on my arm stops me. "Sometimes we're telling the truth when we say it's not about you. The one on her hand is just one of her scars, and they come with a story. Just give her some time and space right now. She's working some stuff out in her head."

Time and space. I give her that. We had one date with barely an ending and then nothing. It's been a little over two weeks since Megan gave me the brush off, and I'm trying to convince myself that chatting up the barista at the coffee shop near the office is a good idea. My heart's just not in it, though. I'm still thinking that my player days might be behind me, even if Megan's not interested. That it's been radio silence suggests she's not.

Ranger admitted that the Jenkins Group peeps do some sort of family dinner and meal swap once a month and that's what Steph and Megan were talking about that morning. He also lets it drop that Megan looked as miserable as me when she arrived solo for the dinner the night after our date.

Her arriving without a date makes me feel a little better, and then immediately shitty. I didn't want her to feel bad. Shit like this is why I was content to keep things to casual hook-ups, but seeing Ranger actually look so fucking happy makes me want to see if there's more out there.

Steph asked me to come over tonight, and I admit I'm nervous, not knowing what it's about. If she needs me to apologize again, then I'll do it. I owe her that, but I also want to keep the peace for Ranger's sake. He's always said that he would never marry again, but Steph has a way of changing his mind about things and I don't want things to be awkward, wedding bells or not.

There's a hint of Spring in the air when I park in front of Chez PlumManoso and get out to stretch my legs. It was a long day coordinating security for a small tech conference at the Marriot downtown and I'm thinking a night vegging on the couch is on my agenda for the evening. The bigger apartment I've gained here in Philadelphia might even have enough room for a couch like Steph's.

I'm halfway to the steps of their townhouse when Megan opens the front door and steps out. The prim and proper navy suit does nothing to hide her curves, and I curse myself for even thinking that. She's not interested, dickwad. Stop looking at her like that.

"Hey."

Her voice is soft, and I give her a clipped nod while waiting to the side of the steps, so I'm not in the way. She doesn't move, so I take a step back to give her more room. She descends the steps but doesn't move away and I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing here.

"Can I talk to you?"

I'm definitely confused. Interested, too, but mostly confused. "Steph asked me to come over and—"

"I asked her to. I didn't know if you'd agree to meet me after I took off last time. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

I blow out a breath. "We're going to be in each other's orbit because of Steph, so if you're going to blow me off again, I'd rather just get it over with now." She winces, and I feel like shit. "Sorry. It's just been a long ass day."

"No, I probably deserved that. I really would like to buy a cup of coffee and explain."

I nod, and we walk in silence for a couple of blocks to a café. Once inside, we find a table in the corner, and both order a cup of decaf. After the server backs away, Megan curls her hands around the cup and haltingly admits, "It really was me, you know."

With a sigh, I decide to let her off the hook. I've used the 'it's not you' excuse before and it sucks being on the receiving end. "You don't have to explain. It's—"

"I want to explain. I like you, and it's freaking me the fuck out."

My mouth opens and closes a few times as I try to rein in my asshole nature. What am I supposed to say to that? Thanks? She pushes off her suit jacket, her short-sleeved blouse leaving her forearms on display. My eyes narrow as I take in at least a half dozen healed stab wounds on her arms.

"I had a co-worker ask me out. I tried to be polite about it but turned him down. He didn't seem to have a problem with it at first, but then he kept asking me out. A couple of weeks later, I started getting flowers with no notes. Candy deliveries came next, and then notes on my car and pictures in the mail. There weren't any threats or even anything that pointed to him, so the cops gave me the 'sorry, there's nothing we can do' sad face. I actually wondered if they were two different problems."

"But they weren't."

"No. So I did what I could to make myself less visible. Deleted any social media, moved, got a P.O. box, that sort of thing. My brother Matt was deployed to Afghanistan at the time, so I tried to keep it from him, but my mom told him, anyway."

"You didn't want him to know?"

She stalls by taking a drink of her coffee. "No. I didn't want him to worry or be distracted. He suggested a few other things, like an LLC, to hide my assets and bills. That worked for a little while. I was working in a big law office, and they seemed almost annoyed that I went to someone else for the LLC stuff instead of from them. But-"

"But your co-worker would have been able to access the info if he really wanted."

"Yeah. In the end, it didn't matter. He had some setbacks at work and the gifts and the attention escalated. He'd pop up in stores while I was shopping or in parking lots for the gym and such. I kept filing complaints about the stuff that happened in the office, but nothing came of it. So, I took some self-defense classes and started carrying pepper spray. I hated feeling weak, but I just didn't know what else to do. One night I came home and, even though I have an alarm, he was in my kitchen waiting for me."

Her voice is low, making me tense up. I want to tell her it doesn't matter, that she doesn't need to tell me, but I let her talk. She flexes her right hand, the one with the scar.

"I barely got my hand up in time to block the knife. The bastard stabbed me with a knife from my own kitchen. He got a couple more in before I knocked him upside the head with a vase and run next door. The trial sucked, because he said that I led him on, but since I at least tried to go to the police and HR, there was a paper trail. He's serving 5 years for assault with a deadly weapon, less with time off for good behavior. So, I have maybe a year or so until I have to worry about him."

I could guess the other half of the story. "And your brother didn't come home."

She stares into her coffee, breaking my heart. "And my brother didn't come home. I know he was distracted, worrying about me. It's why I didn't want him to know. Why I was so mad at my mom for telling him. Ryan said it wouldn't have mattered. He told me some of the details, but I just can't help feeling like if I could have found a better way to fix the situation, he would be here."

In some ways, she's very similar to Steph, but in a lot of ways, the big ways, she's the polar opposite. Steph would have ignored the signs and pretended the problem didn't exist until it planted itself in front of her, and even then, she'd deny anything was wrong right up until it was time for Ranger to save her again. Thank God that seems to have changed and Steph is now safety conscious enough to not have Ranger worrying himself into an early grave. On the flip side, Megan did everything right, everything she was supposed to, and she still paid the price of being in a stalkers crosshairs.

"Megan, some things you just don't have any control over. I know it doesn't mean shit, but when it's your time, it's your time. Every soldier knows and accepts that."

She nods. "I know. But maybe it wasn't his time, and I sped up that clock. I don't know that I'll ever not feel guilty about it."

Shit. No wonder she turned me down each time I asked her out. I reach for her right hand, wanting to run a thumb over the scar, before pulling back and keeping my fucking hands to myself. "Maybe you'll find a way when you accept it wasn't your fault. None of it. You have the right to say no to anyone for anything. I shouldn't have pestered you for a date. I'm sorry if me being an ass brought up unpleasant shit for you to deal with again."

"No, that's not what this is about. I just… stalker, dead brother, mommy issues, and oh hey, throw in a broken engagement, and I have some baggage. I'm not brave and ballsy like Steph. I stay in the background, and I like it there. You're a gorgeous front and center guy, and I have problems figuring out why you'd think we'd be a good match. Then we had a great date, and I wondered how you could also be the guy that was Steph's friend but left her standing in the street and not even look back. I like you, but I'm not her. I don't know that I have it in me to jump in and pretend like I'm not wondering if you're going to walk away, and if you're going to walk away, then maybe I should just be alone to begin with because I've tried it, and I'm not cut out for casual."

Neither of us says anything for a bit after that. I signal the server for a refill and wait for her to leave again. "We all have baggage. We all have a past. I have an outgoing personality, but that doesn't mean I'm out hitting the bars every weekend or can't find enjoyment at home. I fucked up with Steph, and it's complicated and we're working on that. It's not a situation that I imagine would come up between us. I know you've probably heard about my dating past from her and that's why you call me Player, but she and Ranger aren't the only ones who've started seeing things differently. I find you interesting and I enjoyed our date, but I'm not going to push you for something that you don't want."

"That's the problem. I want it. The date was just supposed to satisfy my curiosity so I could walk away, not make me want to line up the next three dates!"

I chuckle at that, and even she smiles. "So where does that leave us, and what were your ideas for those dates?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know. I'm really not looking for casual with you."

"That's good. If I were still in the mood for casual, I would have moved on already."

It's only fair that she's the one at a loss for words this time. I give her some time to think about it before pressing my luck. "How about we take it slow, one date at a time? My hours are going to be a mess with getting Rangeman up to speed, but I want to see where this could go."

She's biting her lip, a good sign that she's not automatically discounting the idea. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Let's take things slow and see where this goes."

This time I reach across the table and take her hand. "It's a date, then."