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

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A/N: thanks to xoc13 for sharing a work story that turned into this.

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Chapter 7: Cal

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"All done! I can't believe I was able to get this stuff while the guys were out of town!"

Steph and her friend Mary Lou Stankovic both smile over at me as I unload the last piece of furniture from the back of my truck. Mrs. Stankovic has been working to turn half of their newly finished basement into a game and movie room for her boys and the other half into a man cave for her husband. She went to pick up some gaming chairs she found in a neighborhood group and ended up scoring a sweet pool table for almost nothing. With her husband (and his truck) out of town, Mrs. Stankovic called Steph for help. I have the day off, so when Steph asked if I had time to help her friend, there was no reason to say no. It didn't go unnoticed that Steph muttered fucking pool tables under her breath when her friend made the deal. We heard the rumor of the cop putting a top of the line, custom pool table in his dining room. I guess now I know how Steph felt about it.

Most of the guys are providing security at a tech conference or sleeping off a shift, otherwise, there would be more of us here to help. With the two ladies taking one side and me muscling the other, we got the pool table home and in the garage. I set the last gaming chair next to it and close the tailgate. Steph's friend turns to me now. "Thank you so much, Cal! I really appreciate you spending your day off helping me shlepp furniture around."

"No problem, ma'am. Are you sure you don't want me to take the chairs downstairs?"

She ponders it for a moment. "No, I think I'll make the boys lug them down. Thanks, though." Her eyes flick up to Flaming Fred, the unfortunate skull tattoo on my forehead. She's done it a couple times this morning but has been polite enough to not say anything. Until now. "Ok, I'm sorry, but I gotta know. How bad did it hurt to get that?"

Her face scrunches up a bit, like she can't believe she really asked that out loud. It's a question I get often, second only to "What the hell were you thinking?"

"It didn't, or at least I don't remember. I was blackout drunk when I got it."

"Oh, no! Steph said you were in the Marines. Did you get it after you got out?"

"Nope. Got me tossed out, though. No visible tattoos on the head, face, or neck allowed. I guess a flaming skull front and center is memorable." I give a what can you do shrug. I've made my peace with my drunken stupidity. Lucky for me, Ranger saw past it to the skills I could offer his then-fledgling company.

Mrs. Stankovic gives it one more glance. "Well, it sucks you got kicked out. Oh! Wait here!"

I blink at the sudden shift and give Steph a look as her friend jogs to the backdoor and lets herself in. Steph gives my tattoo a glance, before simply stating, "I like Fred. And I definitely remember seeing you in Shorty's the first time."

I remember seeing her with Ranger, wondering what the hell he was thinking, bringing her there. I mean, the food's good, but it's a total dive. Definitely not a place you take a woman to impress her. Steph's friend is back in a flash carrying a container that she hands to me. "Chocolate chips cookies to say thank you."

"You don't need to, ma'am—"

"I know. I want to, so just say thank you."

She says it in a way that I don't even think about declining, so I do as instructed and wait while Steph says goodbye. When we're back in the truck and backing out of the Stankovic driveway, Steph directs me out of Chambersburg and to a little sandwich place tucked away on a side street. I park, only getting out after she directs me to. "Come on, I'm buying you lunch."

"You don't need to."

"I know. I want to, so just say thank you."

At my raised eyebrow, she laughs. "What? It worked for Mary Lou!"

Hungry, and knowing that she won't be buying my lunch, or hers, I follow her in. The place isn't that big, and it's pretty busy. There's no available seating, so I agree when Steph suggests getting it to go and eating in a park near the office. My phone rings as we get to the head of the line. It's the Control Room, so I have to take it. Steph looks at me. "You want your usual?"

"Yeah, thanks." I step away to take the call, realizing I forgot to hand her my wallet. Damn. I confirm with dispatch that I can take an early patrol shift tomorrow for a puking Raphael and start to make my way back to Steph. I haven't even made it a step when a little old lady jabs an elbow into my side to defend her place in line. I settle back by the door and out of the way. I watch as a woman that was in line a couple people ahead of us slides up to Steph and starts talking to her. Steph smiles and starts to get animated. In tandem, they turn to look at me. I resist the urge to fidget, or worse yet, turn around to look and see if someone is behind me. My back is to the wall, so… not likely. Steph smiles and the woman bites her lip before giving me a gorgeous smile. She's blond, stacked, and poured into a green dress that shows off her banging curves. She gives me a thorough once over, skipping the flaming skull tattoo on my forehead without pausing, which is rare.

Having placed our order, Steph steps to the side with her, and keeps talking. Moments later, my phone pings with a text from Steph. Sherry would like your phone number.

The guys might be having fun, betting on these dates Steph is setting us up on, but she's proving to be a pretty damn good wingman. What happens after we say yes isn't really on her. It doesn't take me long to decide; I wouldn't mind finding someone to spend time with, and the fact that this woman, Sherry, didn't give my tattoo a second glance makes me want to have a chat with her. I type back Sure.

Both their orders are called and after they retrieve the food, they head my way. Steph's got a smile on her face. "Cal Wilson, this is Sherry." She looks back at me. "Pass me your keys and I'll wait in the truck."

Caught up in Sherry's pretty blue eyes, I hand them over without a word. She bites her lip again before dropping her eyes. I offer my hand. "Nice to meet you, Sherry."

"Likewise." She doesn't let go, and I don't pull away. We chat for a few minutes, hands still clasped. I learn that she's a paralegal, originally from Vermont, and new in town. Not knowing what Steph told her in those few minutes at the counter, I hedge my bets and tell her I do security for clubs. Which is mostly true; because of my size and overall appearance, Ranger usually has me working a lot the club contracts, not to mention patrols and bond enforcement in the rougher neighborhoods. We exchange phone numbers and set up a date for tonight. I offer to pick her up, but she insists on meeting me at the Vietnamese restaurant we agree on.

I watch her walk off, appreciating the view. Steph's still smiling when I climb into the driver's seat. "Well?"

"Meeting her for dinner tonight."

"Sweet! She seems nice. Where are you taking her?"

During the drive to the park, I run through the details with her, mentally making a note to stop for flowers. If nothing else, Zero's disaster has us all overthinking first impressions. It seems to have worked for Binkie, anyway. Well, once they got passed the pinch hitter thing, anyway. I know he's seen her a couple more times. While we eat, we share stories about some of our more entertaining jobs and high school hijinks. Steph's a rare gem; always accepting people and offering her friendship with no strings. It worked against her with the cop, but she finally kicked him to the curb. Finding someone who sees me like she does is the whole reason I agreed to a spur of the moment date tonight.

After dropping Steph off at her apartment, I head back to mine. I don't expect anything to come of tonight, but I do a quick clean-up, just in case we end up back here. It's still too early to get ready, so I hop on the Xbox for a few games. Zip and Zero are already playing and I pop into their game at a break. It helps settle my nerves and kill some time. I keep one eye on the clock, making sure to give myself enough time to shower and stop at the flower shop I Googled. Zip questions why I'm cutting out, and I reluctantly admit I have plans, knowing I'm going to get the third degree tomorrow at work.

With a bouquet of some sort of pink flowers, I'm hoping she shows. A couple minutes after seven, she saunters in the door. "Sorry, I had to take a call."

I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. "No worries."

She gives the flowers a side-eye but accepts them with a soft, and somewhat confused, thanks. She hooks her arm in mine as the hostess leads us to a table in the middle of the restaurant. Sherry taking the seat that allows her to see more of the restaurant gives me pause, but there's no way to ask her to switch without having to explain about not wanting my back to the door. She sets the flowers down on the table, barely sparing them another glance. When the server steps to our table, she orders a glass of Riesling while I stick with a beer.

While we chat about this, that, and nothing, she toys with her necklace. Her fingers glide up and down, making it hard for me to pay attention. We both order pho, and after the server backs away, I jolt when I feel one of her feet glide up the inside of my leg. When I look at her, she has a saucy smirk on her face. "What sort of things do you like, Cal Wilson?"

"Like food? Hobbies?" Isn't that what we've been talking about?

She snorts and her shoeless foot rubs a little higher. "I was aiming for a little more personal than that."

Her foot is in my damn crotch and I put a hand over it to keep it from moving. This is starting to feel less like a date and more like a hook-up. Which I guess is fine, but a bit unexpected. And honestly, I'm not used to women being so forward with me. "I like getting to know someone before I take them to bed."

"Really?"

I hate that she sounds so surprised. She's not the first, or probably the last, woman that figures with a giant flaming skull on my forehead, I take what I can get. And that's been true, but I've reached a point where I want to enjoy myself out of bed, too. "Yeah, really."

She smiles at me but pulls her leg back. "Well, we have all of dinner to get to know each other."

Despite that statement, her questions are surface questions, and her answers are non-committal and evasive. Warning bells are dinging, but I can't say why. More than likely, it's just disappointment at realizing this is probably just another good girl saw the tattoo and thinks she's going to walk on the wild side thing. Dinner is delivered, along with a refill of her wine. I've just taken a bite of my pho when I hear, "What the actual fuck, Sherry?"

Shit, that voice sounds familiar. I choke down my food and glance at my date. Her face has gone pale, and her eyes are darting back and forth. I clock a body clad in black cargos and t-shirt coming up on my right and follow it all the way up to a pissed off Kong, a recent transfer in from Boston. He looks at me and growls, "Wilson!"

I lean back, a hand loose in my lap in case things escalate. "Kong." I look back and forth between my date and co-worker. "I take it you two know each other."

He's shaking his head in disgust. "If dating, exclusive, for over a year counts as knowing each other, then yeah. We know each other."

Holy shit. Did not see this coming. He looks at me. "How long you been poaching?"

My hands come up, indicating I'm no threat. "First date. I didn't know she was with someone."

"Sherry?"

The woman in question blinks a few times, then straightens up and looks at me. "You work for Rangeman?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Yeah, oh. She looks at Kong. "It's not a big deal, baby. I can explain."

"Serious as shit, baby, I uprooted my life and moved to fucking Trenton to be with you. And now I find that you're stepping out and trying to blow smoke up my ass and tell me it's no big deal. Let me take a wild ass guess and presume this is not the first time?"

Sherry says nothing, simply looking at her plate. Awkward as fuck. That's what this night is. Should have trusted my gut that something was off. Now I'm crosswise with a brother that I have to see almost every day.

"I should go." Because yeah, I totally don't want to be in the middle of this.

"Or we could all go home. You know, together." She licks her lips as she says it, and my dick proves it has no sense of self-preservation by popping up to check-in. Dude, fucking chill before Kong goes ape-shit.

Kong and I look at each other; he's only been in Trenton for a month or so, so I don't know much about him, his woman, or how they get their freak on. Scratch that. The way his eyes narrow, I get the feeling that adding a third isn't something they do. We look back at Sherry, who flushes and takes a drink of her wine.

His voice is low, anger leaking in. "Hard pass. You know I don't share. Or at least I thought you knew. Something tells me I don't want to know just how much sharing I've been doing."

She flushes, but this time for a different reason. She remains silent. Probably a good play. We all sit, or stand in Kong's case, in an awkward silence. Finally, Sherry pushes her bowl away. "We'll talk about this at home."

She grabs her purse and walks out in a ballsy mic drop moment, not bothering to see if he follows. The entire restaurant has been wrapped up in our drama, but now a few go back to eating. The rest are avidly watching, waiting to see how this plays out. Kong wipes a hand down his face. His features transform from pissed to exhausted and I feel like shit. I had no control over the situation, but that doesn't make me feel any better.

"I seriously didn't know. Steph met her this morning when we stopped for subs after I helped her friend haul something in my truck. Steph said Sherry asked for my number."

Crap. I probably should have left that part out. I brace to have my ass handed to me but instead Kong drops into the chair Sherry vacated. "It's not on you. Do me a favor, though?"

"Anything."

"Just tell everyone things didn't work out on the date. I'm still the fucking new guy and I don't need any dude's girl is fucking around on him pity on top of it."

"Done. But maybe Steph should take a break—"

"No. This isn't on her, either. None of the duds are. She's not forcing anyone to say yes to a date. I don't want her, or you, to feel bad for something Sherry did. Fucking me over is all her."

I have nothing to say to that, and I still feel guilty. He moves the silverware around, silently stewing. He looks up at me once before looking back down at the table. "I was looking at rings last week when I went to that false alarm at Brookingers."

Holy shit. Now the guy looks wrecked. He knocks on the table before standing up. "Better to know now. I just stopped in for my dinner break, but I've lost my appetite. Guess I better get back to the office. Good thing I have tomorrow off since I'll need to pack my shit and go apartment hunting."

It takes me all of three seconds to decide. "There are no units available at Haywood, but my couch is available if you need it in the meantime."

He nods, but adds, "Sounds like the set-up for a bad sitcom, but I might have to take you up on it. I don't see us peacefully cohabitating after this."

Kong walks out, head down. Only a few people are still paying me any attention; the stink eye I'm getting from a few women sucks. This date was one for the record books, and I'm not sorry the story will go on lockdown. I don't want the shit I'd get for poaching any more than he wants the pity. Looks like I have until tomorrow to perfect my we just didn't click story. For now, there's a beer at home calling my name.