“You heard me. But wait, shush”—she holds out a hand at me—“I need to make my wish first.” And then she proceeds to close her eyes for a beat, a slow smile crawling on her lips, before she takes a huge breath and blows the seeds of the dandelion all over the place. “Okay, now you can spill all the details.”

“On one condition,” I say, still positive I’ll be spilling the details.

“Conditions, huh?” She lifts her eyebrows.

I nod. “What did you wish for?”

She angles her head and stares at me for a beat, her voice soft when she answers. “For more nights like this.”

And even if that’s not what she wished for, she has me one hundred percent sold and wanting that same exact wish too.

“Do you often self-sabotage good things? I think you asking me to tell you about my love life might be you doing just that,” I warn, but my smile says otherwise.

“That bad, huh?” She shrugs. “I’m just curious. You’re one of those guys that someone gets ahold of and doesn’t let go so . . .”

“I’m thinking that’s a compliment?” I ask.

“A huge one.”

“Then thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” She stops walking and looks at me. “I’m more than certain you’ve broken many hearts over the years—”

“Says the woman I swear is the queen of breaking hearts.”

“Don’t you dare deflect back on me.” She wags her finger at me.

“Haven’t we had enough Q&A for one date?”

She throws her head back and laughs before stepping into me and kissing me absolutely senseless. Hands threaded through my hair, tongue teasing with mine, moan falling from her mouth. The best type of kiss.

I’m staggered how this woman is a mess of contradictions. She said she likes the sex, but not the person, and yet she’s open and free and affectionate like this with me. She claims she’s rigid and planned, and then she kisses me like that without any provocation or apparent care in the world.

How is it so easy, so effortless, watching her do this? Having her do this?

Making me fall for her?

That’s the crazy talking and yet . . . I can’t get her out of my head even when she’s standing before me with those discerning, beautiful eyes and disarming smile.

Is it just because there’s no pressure for more? She’s leaving, and we’re living by my motto: live every day like it’s your last.

“Come on, Gunner, don’t I deserve to know if I’m going to start getting hate mail delivered to my hotel room because I’ve stolen the local heartthrob?”

I snort. “Hardly.”

“I’ll start. I date but don’t get serious. I’m not keen on getting touchy-feely, talking about myself, or about feelings at all really.”