She rolled her eyes. “Or because you want to sleep with as many women as you possibly can. Do you think we don’t hear that excuse from the time we’re old enough to come in contact with a player? Hey, baby, you’re gorgeous and beautiful, but I’m all wounded and shit so I can’t touch something as lovely as you. What? You want to heal me through some sex. It probably won’t work. I can’t even think about a relationship that lasts past tomorrow because of all my wounded bullshit, but if you’re sure, then hey, let’s do this thing. Yeah, heard it all before.”

He sighed. “I’m not trying to play anyone. I’m not. I never used any of those lines on you. I acted like an idiot because I had no idea how to handle you.”

She stiffened in the moonlight, her shoulders squared and rigid. “You handled it fine. You were honest.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I wasn’t honest, and even if I had been being honest, I wasn’t kind.”

“I haven’t known many men who cared much about kindness.”

“Well, then you haven’t known me.”

She was silent for a moment, as though trying to decide what to do. She sniffled. “Did you order the daiquiri?”

He felt himself frowning. “Yes.”

A humorless chuckle came from her throat. “Of course you did. You’re the whole reason I left the bar. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have a job right now. I would have a place to be. I would have a home that hadn’t been invaded by an asshole. Why? Why did you order that fucking daiquiri? And think long and hard before you lie to me.”

Shit. His first instinct was to tell her, damn girl, NOLA boy loves himself a daiquiri, but there was something wicked in that girl’s eyes, something desperate that told him she needed to be handled with care this evening and that while he’d thought he was being honest with her before and that hadn’t worked, honesty was definitely required now. “I was curious. My family owned a bar, you see. I grew up in one an hour and a half south of New Orleans. We owned the bar and the wharf attached to it. I consider myself an expert. I was working before I could drink. The sheriff would look the other way. He didn’t care that I would help my pop-pop out as long as I wasn’t sampling the merchandise. I’d watched you all night and you looked like a woman who could handle herself, but there are tests.”