“Me?” I scoffed. “No way in hell. But if she can handle it, let her go for it.”

That had Trip busting out with a big laugh. “That’s some kind of hypocrite shit!”

“No it’s not!” I laughed. “I’m possessive, and I get jealous. I know that. I accept it. I own up to it. I would be picturing this imaginary person I love having s-e-x,” I whispered the word just in case, “with whoever he’s been in a relationship with, and I’d want to stab each one of those girls. But not everyone is like that. That’s part of the reason why I don’t have a boyfriend. I know I’m crazy. I already feel sorry for whatever poor bastard ends up with me some day, but he’ll know what he’s getting into. I don’t hide it.”

Trip shook his head, grinning wide. “You said it. You’re fuckin’ nuts.”

What was I going to do? Deny it?

“Diana, I hate to tell you, I don’t know anybody like that.”

I frowned. “That’s okay. I’m sure there’s some nice, divorced Catholic boy out there somewhere in the world, who waited to lose it until he got married and now he’s waiting again for the right girl.”

“Doubt it.”

I gave Trip a face before checking on the steaks again. “Quit killing my dreams.”

“I’m just keepin’ it real for you, honey.”

“Okay, maybe if he’s really nice to me and good to me, and I’m the love of his life, and he writes me sweet notes on a regular basis telling me that I’m the light of his life and he can’t live without me, I’ll give him ten women tops. Tops.” I let out a breath. “I’m getting mad just thinking about it.”

Both of them groaned before Trip began cracking up. “Ten women and you’re already getting mad at the poor bastard.”

“Life is too short to not get what you want,” I argued with him, smiling so wide my face hurt even though I was facing the skillet. With my back to them, it took me a moment to remember that Dallas was still in the kitchen with us. He hadn’t said a word during our back and forth, so I glanced at him over my shoulder. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, looking tired.

We could do this. We could be friendly.

“What do you think?” I asked him.

He kind of closed one hazel eye as he asked, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

His face went a little funny, a little smirk-ish before he squinted one eye. “You’re young, but not that young.”

I choked out a laugh that I swore had a tiny smile curling Dallas’s mouth.

He finally ended with, “Unless you’re hoping to find some kid still in high school, I think you’re shit out of luck.”

I hoped he understood that the look I shot him wasn’t a nice one, but I was going to let the age thing go. “What? Eleven women then?”

Trip closed his eyes, shaking his head just slightly. “I don’t know why Ginny didn’t bring you into my life before, honey.”

“Because she didn’t want you crushing my dreams and making me plan to spend the rest of my life alone?”

“I think you might just be able to make a family man outta me if you tried,” Trip joked.

I raised my eyebrows at Dallas, reminding myself that this wasn’t going to be weird between us, damn it, and shook my head quickly, pursing my lips together. “No thanks.”

The blond man sagged as he laughed, but it was Dallas I was looking at, and I didn’t miss his quick smile.

That was something.

“Buttercup!” Louie’s voice shouted from another room.

I didn’t move as my five-year-old stomped into the living room, his face pink and a mix of pouty and hurt. In blue swim trunks and an orange German national team soccer jersey my uncle had given him for his birthday a few months ago, he already looked like a mess without even taking in the watery blue eyes of his that went from Dallas to Trip and finally to me.

“What is it, Goo?” I asked.

Louie stalked toward me, his chest puffing. “They won’t let me play with them.”

I crouched down to get eye level with Lou, who was hesitating closer to the stove. “Video games?”

He nodded, closing the distance between us quickly, his forehead going straight to my collarbone. I hugged him. “He never lets me play when he’s with his friends,” he whispered.

I sighed and held him for a minute. “He likes playing with you. It’s just his birthday coming up, and he wants to hang out with his buddies, Goo. He still loves you.”

“But I wanna play with them,” he whined.

“I’ll go tell them to let him play,” Trip offered.

Louie just shook his head against my cheek, embarrassed.

“They’ll let you play,” Trip kept going. “Promise.”

“I don’t wanna,” the little boy whispered, changing his mind all of a sudden. His arms slipped around my neck. His body went soft in resignation.

“I got an Xbox at my house. I can bring it over and we can play.” Dallas’s suggestion had Lou and me both glancing over at the man still leaning against the counter.

“You do?”

“Sure do, buddy.”

I remembered seeing a couple of game consoles at his house and his massive TV, but I couldn’t really picture Dallas—this muscled mountain of a man who had been so serious every other time we’d spoken—sitting on his messy couch playing video games, at all.