“I thought maybe this time it would be okay.”

“Why?”

His eyebrows pulled in. He was getting frustrated. “Do you, uh … still think about that night?”

“Not really, no.”

He sighed. “It’s been a month, Ellie.”

“I’m aware.”

“I still think about it.”

I took a breath, hoping I could exhale away how he made me feel. “We’ve talked about this,” I said, continuing my trek to the MountainEar.

“Ellie,” he said, chuckling nervously. “Could you stop and talk to me for just a second?”

I stopped, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. “So are you interested in me because I didn’t just fade away like the rest of your one-night stands, because of my father, or because I may or may not be into guys?”

“None of the above. Why are you being so difficult?”

“It was one night, Tyler. I was a different person then. I don’t want to be attracted to the sweaty fighter willing to take a drunk girl to bed anymore.”

He shoved his fists in his pockets and squinted one eye—that damned dimple in his cheek making another appearance. “You don’t want to be, but you are.”

He was so overconfident my insults didn’t faze him. He was too arrogant to believe me.

I kept walking. “You’re making this difficult. I’m trying to be clear. Just because I may not be at my strongest at the moment doesn’t mean I’m trying to send you mixed signals.”

“I’ve already taken you to bed. I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out.”

I stopped to scan his face, deciding if he was telling the truth or not. There was hope in his eyes, maybe a little bit of fear. Tyler was tall and bulky and wrestled with wildfires for a living, but he was scared of me, and with good reason. Behind all that muscle and badassery, Tyler was good, and that meant I was bad for him—even if I was better than I used to be.

“I can’t hang out with you.”

He continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “I’m off at ten tonight.”

“I’m in bed by ten.”

“What about breakfast? You don’t have to be at work until nine, right?”

“Because I like to sleep in, genius.”

“Are you a bacon and eggs girl? Or pancakes?”

I frowned. They both sounded fantastic. A free breakfast was as good as a free dinner, and Sally had decided she wasn’t going to allow Maricela to add to the pantry until I spoke to my parents on the phone—which I didn’t plan to do … ever. I wasn’t turning my life around for them; I was doing it for Finley, and that meant I would soon be living on Ramen noodles unless Maricela took pity on me and brought over some of her famous tamales.