“It’s a significant part of who I am.”

    “I don’t understand,” he said. “How’s that likely to affect our friendship?” And then he added in an undertone, “Such as it is.”

    “I go to AA meetings and I don’t drink alcohol. For a long time I didn’t even use mouthwash that had any alcohol content.”

    He sat forward in the hammock a little and Molly instantly put her head on his chest so he could pet her. “Hey, is that why you wouldn’t take the pain meds?”

    “That’s exactly why,” she said. “But it worked out that I was just fine with the anti-inflammatories and ice. But see—I’m not just your average girl. I had a complicated childhood and as it turns out, I have a complicated adulthood.”

    “Okay,” he said. “Is this worrying you?”

    “What?”

    “Telling me this stuff?”

    “Yes. No. I mean, think about it—we don’t have much in common.”

    He scratched Molly behind the ears, and she snuggled closer. Molly moaned almost seductively.

    “And if my dog likes you better than me, you are banned!”

    He couldn’t help but laugh at her. “Is this why you’ve been so cranky? Because you thought we should have this heart-to-heart?”

    “I thought you should know some of the more private and personal stuff about me before you get in too deep. And it’s just not easy to do, okay?”

    “So you were almost born in a bus, you don’t drink or take pain pills, you go to AA meetings and you’re very particular about who your dog loves best. Feel better now?” he asked.

    “Not very,” she said.

    “Are we going to get in too deep?” he asked hopefully.

    “You really don’t get it, do you? I’m not like you!”

    “Why would I want someone like me? Oh—hey—does it bother you if someone has a drink around you? Like should I be careful not to drink a beer because it might—you know—make you drool with longing or something?”

    She rolled her eyes. “It only bothers me to be around people who are getting toasted and obnoxious. Sully has his bedtime drink at night and I have tea and we’re very compatible. In fact, he’s the best friend I’ve had in a long while.”

    “You have good taste,” Connie said. “Sully is good people. So, now can we go on a date?”

    “What for?” she asked.

    “For something to do,” he said, turning Molly a bit so he could scratch her tummy.

    Sierra started to scratch her tummy, too, and Molly stretched her neck and back legs, offering more of herself to be massaged. “I feel like you’re not taking this seriously,” Sierra said. “I’m an alcoholic with a very untidy history who has had troubled relationships and you’re just a guy who wants a date with the wrong girl. Think. Use your head.”

    His hand stopped moving and she looked up. Those blue eyes were boring into her. “Thank you for telling me. It’s brave of you to tell me personal and private things. But here’s what I’d like. I’d like to go do some fun stuff so we’re having a good time while we get to know each other better. I like what I know about you so far and you like what you know about me because you act like it and because it put you in a terrible mood worrying about telling me personal stuff. I figure that’s because it’s important to you that I like you. And I do, so let’s not worry about that anymore. And after we have some time together and you believe that I like you for yourself, your totally unlike-anybody-else self, who was almost born in a bus and can’t get near liquor, then maybe we’ll get closer and make out like teenagers. That would be good.”

    She was quiet for a minute. “Oh, that was smooth, Conrad.”

    “I guess I’m not like the other guys you know because I’m not real smooth with the girls,” he said.

    “Sully said you’ve always got a girl,” she informed him.

    “That’s not true at all. I mean, I go out with girls sometimes. Okay, I go out with girls a lot. But they’re not, you know, relationships.”

    “Do you have sex with them?”

    “I haven’t had sex in so long I forget which armpit it’s under.”

    She burst out laughing in spite of herself. “That could be your problem...”

    “I’d like to have it with you, though,” he said.

    She looked at him in wonder. “Do you always say exactly what’s on your mind?”

    “I told you. You should know that by now—I’m pretty much an open book. No good moves. But here’s what we have in common. We both had some bad experiences with the opposite sex, even though I don’t know what kind yours were. But you told me—you can’t pick ’em. Me either, apparently. I figure that’s a really good place to start.”

    “Is that so?”

    “Yes. We’re two people who really like each other but are a little unsure about things like getting involved. Because we’ve had some bad luck. So here’s how I think it should go. We’ll hang out some more, kiss some, maybe hold on to each other for a while and get all worked up and decide, what’s wrong with taking it a little further? It’ll be soft and sweet and we’ll get wrapped around each other till we can’t breathe. If it was winter and if we were in the truck—that little car of yours is out of the question—we’d steam up the windows big-time. It would be better if we were somewhere private, lying down, though. So then we’ll do it. If we do it, it will be so good we’ll talk about it for years because we were two people who thought we might not ever match up but we did. What do you think of that?”