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

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Chapter 2: Zero

"Zero! Wait up!"

Steph's voice stops me in my tracks. My shift is over and I'm looking forward to a night of vegging in front of the tv with the new game I picked up on my lunch break. It's been a crap week already and it's only Wednesday, but the game was a reward for not ending up in jail after having to deal with a dickhead that didn't want to admit that it was his sixteen-year-old setting off the alarms at his house and not Rangeman error. All I want to do is kick back and relax.

My hand is on the stairwell door, so close to escaping. She skids to a stop in front of me. "Do you have plans for this weekend?"

How the hell am I supposed to answer that? We've all started to relax a bit around Ms. Plum, I mean Stephanie, but I wouldn't say we're friends. She's nice and all, but she's the boss's woman and there's a shit ton of landmines around her because of it. Glancing from side to side, I don't see Ranger anywhere and relax a little. "Not much. Just got a new game for my Xbox. Do you need help with something?"

Her smile is genuine and quick. "No, but I was wondering… are you seeing anyone?"

Umm…what? My eyes are shifting around again, looking for the boss or anyone that might have overheard. Shit! There's Santos. "No, ma'am."

"Steph or Stephanie."

"Stephanie. Not dating anyone."

Her smile gets wider. "Cool. Do you want to go on a date this weekend?"

Danger! Danger! Danger! Red lights are blinking everywhere in my brain. Confusion must have shown on my face. Or maybe it was panic. Definitely panic, since I can see Santos with his eyebrows hiked halfway up his forehead behind her as he settles against the doorway to the breakroom. Whatever it was, it doubles when she steps forward and lays a hand on my arm. "Relax, Zero. Not with me."

Oh, thank fuck. I must have relaxed a little too much because Steph withdraws her hand and steps back. She's doing some muttering under her breath, and I swear I hear am I that bad and afraid but I'm not asking for clarification. Nope. No way in hell.

She squares her shoulders and shoots me another smile. "I met this girl at a coffee shop down the road from the gym my friend Mary Lou and I go to over in Hamilton Township and I thought of you. I got her number."

With that little bombshell she pulls a folded napkin out of her pocket and tries to hand it to me. I'm eying it warily, like it might explode. Hey, weird things happen around her! She wiggles her hand. "She's really nice. Studying communications, loves all things coffee, drives a Mustang."

Ok, that all sounds nice. Chocolate covered espresso beans are my go-to, and in high school, my parents offered me a deal; they'd match whatever I earned to buy my first car. I worked my ass off delivering papers, mowing lawns, and working as a bagger at the grocery store to earn enough to get a used Mustang. I drove the shit out of that car until I left for boot camp. It's still in my parents' garage back in Michigan. I've been saving up for a house, so maybe after I get a place of my own, I'll see about shipping it out here so I can tinker on it on my days off.

"Zero?"

Right. Date. With coffee shop girl. I've been kind of bored on my days off, especially since Zip started dating Hannah. She's pretty cool, but I definitely feel like a third wheel when we hang out. Everyone says Ms. Plum, Stephanie, has good instincts and it's kind of nice that she remembered little details that I shared about myself. "Ok, sure."

That gets me another smile as she passes over the napkin. Emily. Pretty name. I nod a thanks toward Stephanie. "I'll give her a call."

I get another smile as I back away and put my hand on the stairwell door handle. As I open it and move to slide through, Santos comes forward and latches an arm around her neck, pulling her in for a side hug.

"Beautiful, asking the men out on dates! Have you grown tired of my cousin already?"

I hear an oof! and "Shut it, Lester!" as the stairwell door closes behind me.

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I'm a little nervous as I slam my truck door and beep the lock. I took it to a full-service car place earlier today and got the full shebang: wash, hand wax, and detailing. It looks so good I could have driven it right off the showroom floor. It only takes a minute to make sure my shirt is tucked in, and my hair isn't standing on end. The entire walk to her apartment, I'm wondering if this is a good idea. We chatted briefly on the phone yesterday; Emily seemed quiet but nice. We agreed to dinner, and she suggested a place that's a bit pricier than I'm used to, but I said sure. Reviews for the food are good, so at least there's that. Fuck it, it's just a first date. Nerves are expected, right?

The door opens almost immediately after my knock. "Jason?"

Hearing my given name throws me for a second. I'm so used to Zero, but she told me on the phone that she can't see herself calling me that. I nod. "Hi. You look great."

She smiles, but it feels forced. After the second time her eyes drop to my hands, I nervously put them in my pockets. There's no invitation to go inside, so I ask, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. Let me get my purse."

I don't take it personally as the door shuts behind her. I tell my sisters all the time to not let guys they don't know in their apartment or leave the door open, so I give Emily points for being safety conscious. When she returns, we walk to the elevator and I'm unsure how close I should stand to her. She's emanating a weird vibe and it's throwing me off. She pauses for a second when we get to my truck, but she doesn't say anything when I hold the door open and offer her a hand. She's wearing heels, but I've seen Ms. Plum, Stephanie, climb into the company SUVs in higher shoes, so I don't think it's a problem.

The drive to Georgio's is made mostly in awkward silence. I throw out a few softball questions, like how was her week and if she was enjoying the nicer weather, but get stilted answers in return. By the time we're seated and perusing the drink list, I'm swearing off blind dates and mentally rearranging my budget for the month after she orders a $150 bottle of wine.

"How long were you in the Army?"

It's the first thing she's asked about me and I latch onto it, thankful for something other than silence. "Eight years. Stephanie said you're studying communications. Where do you go to school?"

"College of New Jersey over in Ewing Township."

I don't know much about the university, other than Rangeman provides some of their remote security services. "Cool. Do you like it?"

That gets me a shoulder shrug and no follow up. We're silent as the server brings the wine and I watch her do the sip and spit routine that wine lovers do. As the sever moves away, I ask, "Are you a wine connoisseur?"

"I like good wine."

That's it. The candlelight has shadows dancing off her golden hair. Emily's really pretty. I noticed it when I picked her up but didn't really get a chance to take in the details when I was driving. She smiles when she catches me looking, causing me to drop my eyes back to my menu. Busted. There are a few comments back and forth on the offerings and what sounds good. I knew coming in that the prices were going to be high but seeing $70 for the lowest price steak hits my gut as I mentally tally up the probable tab. Ranger pays well, but not $500 restaurant meals on the regular well. I've been saving up for a house, and tonight's going to mean I won't put as much aside this month. I mentally shrug. First dates are about making a good first impression, right?

The server, Jenny according to her name tag, returns to take our order and I notice Emily keeping her eyes on me as she orders the crab cake appetizer and the Surf and Turf entrée. I'm not a lobster fan, so I stick with a New York Strip. Jenny asks for my sides, and we do a quick banter back and forth about asparagus being French fries' hoity toity cousin before she backs away, promising our appetizer will be out soon. When I look back at Emily, she doesn't look happy.

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

She's leaned back in her seat, one arm crossed over her lap while she takes a long drink of her wine. The awkward silence grows until she sets her now-empty glass down. "What do you do at Rangeman?"

We slowly get back on track, answering each other's questions as we make our way through the admittedly excellent crab cakes and our entrees. I keep my queries light, like what she does in her free time, places she likes to visit, just trying to get a feel for her. As we move on to dessert, though, her questions start growing pointed, like where I live, how long do I intend to live at my place of work, how big of a house do I want, what kind of benefits does the company offer, and such. It's starting to feel more like a job interview than a date. My answers are getting vaguer, and she finally hits me with the big one. "How much do you make working there?"

I lean back, buying time by refolding the napkin in my lap. I'm all for asking getting to know you questions, but some things are out of bounds, especially on a first date. "Why do you want to know?"

She sighs and sets her own napkin on the table. "Why don't you want to answer?"

I follow suit and drop my napkin next to my plate. "For one, it's none of your business. And two, we just met. What's with the third degree about my job?"

"Again, why don't you want to answer?"

We sit in a silent standoff. When she realizes I'm really not going to answer, she blows out a puff of air. "I know what I want, and there are rules for dating me, ok?"

"Rules," I parrot back. I must have heard wrong. I guess I know the basics of a first date and getting to know someone, but this is the first I've heard of actual rules.

She leans forward, nearly dipping her hair into the remaining cheesecake on her plate. "Yes. Rules. I choose what we do. You pick me up, dressed to impress, in a clean car, not a truck I have to climb up in. You're supposed to bring me flowers. Nice ones, not those plastic wrapped things from the grocery store."

I guess that explains the look she shot me when we got to her parking lot. I'm making no apologies for my ride, but I didn't even have generic flowers to give her. I make a note for the future.

She's ticking items off on her fingers. "Open doors for me. Dinner should be at the restaurant of my choice, with you paying. Definitely not splitting the check. No skimping out, either. Wine, appies, dessert, everything. No comments on what I order. Jokes about my weight are a definite no. Do not sit there and check your phone. Do not maintain eye contact with the server, especially another woman. Your attention should be on me. Do not embarrass me by leaving a crap tip, either."

What the actual fuck? I didn't think the 'rules' were that bad until then. I opened the doors. She picked the restaurant; my credit card is going to take a hit, but the food was good. There wasn't a lot of it, but it was a decent meal, and I always intended to pay. But the rest? I'm a guy and known to stick my foot in my mouth, but even I know not to comment on a woman's weight. Emily's got a banging body, so I'm not sure what there would be to comment on, although I guess I did just comment on it. Damn. But seriously, ignore the waitstaff? Am I supposed to stare at their chin or something? Fuck that. They're human beings and I like talking to people. My older sister worked as a waitress in college, so I always tip well. I'm a bit pissed she'd think I'd stiff the server I'm not supposed to engage with.

"We can do other things like a gallery exhibit, the ballet, a show, or something along those lines, but make sure the seats are good. Otherwise, what's the point? Do you have a suit?"

I shake my head no and look down at myself. I guess slacks and a button down aren't good enough. Thinking back, I don't know if I've worn a suit since prom over a decade ago. In the Army I had uniforms; off duty I wore jeans. I was dressed pretty much like this for my interview with Ranger after I got out of the service. I don't work the private protection details or security jobs that require anything more.

With a sigh, she continues, still ticking off points with her fingers. "No sporting events. Nothing that will get my clothes or shoes dirty. Movies are a poor choice because they won't allow us to converse."

Not to mention I'd be paying attention to something other than her. Snarky, but damn. And why is a ballet or show ok but a movie's not? As she runs through her list, I've been leaning back, disengaging. I don't disagree with some of her rules, but others are a no for me. I think we're just not a good fit.

"I expect to be put first, to be a priority. There better be a good reason for canceling plans and hanging out with your bros doesn't count. I like what I like, and I want what I want. I don't think there's anything wrong with that." She tips her head to the side, waiting for me to say something. When I don't, because I can't really think of anything that won't come off as rude, she lets out a tiny snort. "You don't think I'm worth it."

Oh, hell no. Not touching that landmine. "That's not it at all! I think…" It takes me a moment to figure out exactly what I want to say. "I think there's not much room for someone like me in your rules. You're nice, and smart, and very pretty, but I don't think we're compatible. That's all."

She rolls her eyes. "You don't like nice, smart, pretty girls?"

I narrow my eyes. Way to twist my words. "Yes. But I also like women who I have something in common with. I'm me. I drive a truck, don't own a suit and I'm not likely to get one unless I absolutely have to. I don't have a traditional nine to five job and sometimes when it's all hands on deck I get called in and have to cancel plans. There's no way around that." She's clenching her jaw and since it's clear there's not going to be a second date, at least on my end, I might as well put it all out there. "I think places like this are great for a special occasion, but I'm more likely to hit something with more conservative prices so I can still afford to do other things. I have friends with crazy credit card debt, and I refuse to do that to date someone. I think it's great that you know what you want. But I also know what I want, and like I said, we're just not compatible."

With a disgusted sigh, she tosses her napkin on the table and grabs her purse. I watch her leave, heading toward the front door rather than the bathrooms. Stunned, I run a hand down my face and drop my head, counting to ten. When I look up, Jenny is holding a black leather portfolio in her hands. "Thought you might be ready for this," she says in a quiet voice as she hands me the check.

"Yeah. Thanks." It only takes a moment for me to pull out my wallet and toss my credit card inside. I don't even want to know how much this crash and burn cost me. I should probably go after Emily, but I'm not going to stiff the restaurant or the serving staff. When Jenny returns, I shake my head at the total and add a generous tip. When I wave her over and return the portfolio, she gives me a small smile and warns me to look out for rogue asparagus stalkers. The huff of laughter I let out is probably the first smile I've had all night.

When I get outside, Emily is sitting on a bench, glaring at me. The trip back to her place is even quieter and more awkward than the drive to dinner. I barely have time to put the truck in park before she's got her door open and is on the move. When she notices me intending to walk her to her door, she turns and puts a hand up. "I'm fine from here. It was nice meeting you, Jason, but you're right, we're not a good fit."

With that, she practically runs from me, leaving me feeling like shit as I watch to make sure she makes it inside her building. I probably could have handled that better, but I figure it's better to get it over with than suffer through trying to get out of a second date that I don't really want. What's going to suck even more is explaining it to Stephanie at work on Monday.